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Authors: Jamie McGuire
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.” she trailed off, weighing her options.
“Don’t you trust me by now? I’ll be on my best behavior, I swear.” I held up my index, middle, and pinky finger, affectionately known by my frat brothers as the
“shocker.” She didn’t get it.
As much as being good would suck, I wasn’t going to run her off the first night by doing something stupid.
Abby was a delicate balance of tough and tender. Pushing her too far seemed to garner the same reaction as a cornered animal. It was fun to walk the tightrope she required, in a terrifying,
driving-at-a-thousand-miles-per-hour, backward-on-a-motorcycle kind of way.
She turned away from me, karate chopping the blanket around every curve of her body. Another smile crept across my face, and I leaned into her ear.
“Good night, Pigeon.”
CHAPTER SIX
Shots
T HE SUN HAD JUST BEGUN TO CAST SHADOWS ON THE walls of my bedroom when I opened my eyes. Abby’s hair was tangled and
messy, and covering my face. I took a deep breath through my nose.
Dude. What are you doing . . . besides being creepy?
I thought. I turned onto my back, but before I could stop myself, took in another breath. She still smelled like shampoo and
lotion.
A few seconds later, the alarm bleated, and Abby began to rouse. Her hand ran across my chest, and then lurched back.
“Travis?” she said, groggily. “Your alarm.” She waited for a minute, and then sighed, reaching across me, straining until she finally reached the clock, and then pounded
against the plastic until the noise stopped.
She fell against her pillow and puffed. A chuckle escaped my lips, and she gasped.
“You were awake?”
“I promised I’d behave. I didn’t say anything about letting you lay on me.”
“I didn’t lay on you. I couldn’t reach the clock. That has to be the most annoying alarm I’ve ever heard. It sounds like a dying animal.”
“You want breakfast?” I tucked my hands behind my head.
“I’m not hungry.”
She seemed pissed about something, but I ignored it. She probably just wasn’t a morning person. Although with that logic, she wasn’t really an afternoon or night person, either. Come
to think of it, she was kind of a cranky bitch . . . and I
liked
it.
“Well, I am. Why don’t you ride with me down the street to the café?”
“I don’t think I can handle your lack of driving skills this early in the morning.” She wiggled her bony little feet into her slippers, and then shuffled to the door.
“Where are you going?”
She was instantly annoyed. “To get dressed and go to class. Do you need an itinerary while I’m here?”
She wanted to play hardball? Okay. I’d play. I walked over to her and cupped her shoulders in my hands. Damn, her skin felt good against mine. “Are you always so temperamental, or
will that taper off once you believe I’m not just creating some elaborate scheme to get in your pants?”
“I’m
not
temperamental.”
I leaned in, whispering in her ear. “I don’t want to sleep with you, Pidge. I like you too much.”
Her body grew tense, and then I left without another word. Jumping up and down to celebrate the thrill of victory would have been a bit obvious, so I restrained myself until I was sufficiently
hidden behind the door, and then made a few celebratory air punches. Keeping her on her toes was never easy, but when it worked, I felt like I was one step closer to . . .
To what? I wasn’t exactly sure. It just felt right.
It had been a while since I’d done any grocery shopping, so breakfast wasn’t quite gourmet, but it was good enough. I scrambled eggs in a bowl, throwing in a concoction of onion,
green and red pepper, and then poured it into a skillet.
Abby walked in and sat on a stool.
“You sure you don’t want some?”
“I’m sure. Thanks, though.”
She had just rolled out of bed and was still gorgeous. It was ridiculous. I was sure that couldn’t be typical, but I wouldn’t know, either. The only girls I’d seen in
“Don’t you trust me by now? I’ll be on my best behavior, I swear.” I held up my index, middle, and pinky finger, affectionately known by my frat brothers as the
“shocker.” She didn’t get it.
As much as being good would suck, I wasn’t going to run her off the first night by doing something stupid.
Abby was a delicate balance of tough and tender. Pushing her too far seemed to garner the same reaction as a cornered animal. It was fun to walk the tightrope she required, in a terrifying,
driving-at-a-thousand-miles-per-hour, backward-on-a-motorcycle kind of way.
She turned away from me, karate chopping the blanket around every curve of her body. Another smile crept across my face, and I leaned into her ear.
“Good night, Pigeon.”
CHAPTER SIX
Shots
T HE SUN HAD JUST BEGUN TO CAST SHADOWS ON THE walls of my bedroom when I opened my eyes. Abby’s hair was tangled and
messy, and covering my face. I took a deep breath through my nose.
Dude. What are you doing . . . besides being creepy?
I thought. I turned onto my back, but before I could stop myself, took in another breath. She still smelled like shampoo and
lotion.
A few seconds later, the alarm bleated, and Abby began to rouse. Her hand ran across my chest, and then lurched back.
“Travis?” she said, groggily. “Your alarm.” She waited for a minute, and then sighed, reaching across me, straining until she finally reached the clock, and then pounded
against the plastic until the noise stopped.
She fell against her pillow and puffed. A chuckle escaped my lips, and she gasped.
“You were awake?”
“I promised I’d behave. I didn’t say anything about letting you lay on me.”
“I didn’t lay on you. I couldn’t reach the clock. That has to be the most annoying alarm I’ve ever heard. It sounds like a dying animal.”
“You want breakfast?” I tucked my hands behind my head.
“I’m not hungry.”
She seemed pissed about something, but I ignored it. She probably just wasn’t a morning person. Although with that logic, she wasn’t really an afternoon or night person, either. Come
to think of it, she was kind of a cranky bitch . . . and I
liked
it.
“Well, I am. Why don’t you ride with me down the street to the café?”
“I don’t think I can handle your lack of driving skills this early in the morning.” She wiggled her bony little feet into her slippers, and then shuffled to the door.
“Where are you going?”
She was instantly annoyed. “To get dressed and go to class. Do you need an itinerary while I’m here?”
She wanted to play hardball? Okay. I’d play. I walked over to her and cupped her shoulders in my hands. Damn, her skin felt good against mine. “Are you always so temperamental, or
will that taper off once you believe I’m not just creating some elaborate scheme to get in your pants?”
“I’m
not
temperamental.”
I leaned in, whispering in her ear. “I don’t want to sleep with you, Pidge. I like you too much.”
Her body grew tense, and then I left without another word. Jumping up and down to celebrate the thrill of victory would have been a bit obvious, so I restrained myself until I was sufficiently
hidden behind the door, and then made a few celebratory air punches. Keeping her on her toes was never easy, but when it worked, I felt like I was one step closer to . . .
To what? I wasn’t exactly sure. It just felt right.
It had been a while since I’d done any grocery shopping, so breakfast wasn’t quite gourmet, but it was good enough. I scrambled eggs in a bowl, throwing in a concoction of onion,
green and red pepper, and then poured it into a skillet.
Abby walked in and sat on a stool.
“You sure you don’t want some?”
“I’m sure. Thanks, though.”
She had just rolled out of bed and was still gorgeous. It was ridiculous. I was sure that couldn’t be typical, but I wouldn’t know, either. The only girls I’d seen in
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