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“Nothing.”
I’m so doing a search of that fucking closet first chance I get. Need to know what got Jet so flustered. He does have his dark moods, which I have learned not to disturb, and has so many skeletons in his closet it’s like Halloween in there, but still. He rarely loses his cool.
“J?”
And why am I staring at his mouth? The fuck’s wrong with me today? “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. One hundred percent.”
But I don’t think he is. Something’s going on. “Rough week?”
He waves a hand back and forth, but not before I catch a tiny flinch. “So… about that nerdy chick. Tell me about her.”
“She’s pretty, I guess.” Her eyes were bright, her mouth lush, her body small and tight and hot in her crazy short dress and fuchsia leggings that matched her nail polish.
And she had glasses on. Did I mention the glasses?
“You guess.”
“Yeah. If you like the nerdy, pigtailed type.”
“You do like that kind, mate.”
That’s right, I do. No one knows me like Jethro.
And… he said “mate.”
Yeah, something’s off. I squint at him. He grew up in Australia as a child, and although he moved to the States with his family when he was ten, his accent sometimes comes through, especially when he’s tired or nervous. Okay, seriously, what the hell’s going on today with him?
“So what’s your plan?”
“Huh?”
“To win over this girl.”
“I need a plan?”
“Well, flashing your baby blues didn’t do the trick this time, did it? Not all chicks will drop their panties and lie on their backs when you enter the room, you know, no matter how good you look. Some girls like guys who give a fuck. Who bring them coffee, and ask them how their day has been.”
“I know that,” I say, irritated.
Because I sort of know all this, but I also did sort of expect her to drop her panties and, well. Bend over, maybe. Or wrap her legs around me.
Why the hell not? We’d both have had a good time. And this time it would work. I know it in my gut. I would let go, and I’d co—
“Unless you don’t care,” Jethro says, “any more than you did for any other chick.”
I probably don’t. Why should I? I don’t really know her.
So I get up, run my hands through my hair, refusing to think about it any longer. “How about we order pizza and play Call of Duty?”
A grin breaks out on Jet’s face. “You need to ask, fucktwat?”
Right. “I’m gonna kick your ass, buddy. Gonna make you my bitch.”
He flinches, and a strangled noise escapes him. “You wish.”
Okay, what the fuck? He sure is acting weird today. “It’s a fact, man.”
