Read Online Complicated Girl by Mimi Strong - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mimi Strong
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making my whole body melt like a cheap birthday candle on the cake of someone too old for birthday candles.
The whole world tilts, suddenly.
I’m falling.
Not falling in love.
Falling off my chair.
Our lips pull apart as we hit the ancient carpet of the pub’s floor. We must be having an earthquake. I look around in shock as we both scramble to right ourselves.
The guys over by the pool table are staring, and one calls over to us, “Need a hand there, Drew?”
“We should get into a doorway, or outside,” I tell Drew breathlessly as I jump up from the floor.
He pushes my shoulders and does the sheepdog thing again, where he herds me down into my chair. His chair is overturned, so he rights it, and takes a seat next to me.
Wincing because I already know the answer, I say, “I guess we’re not having an earthquake?”
He holds up his hand between us. “Listen, Meenie. I’m not against kissing you, but you’ve got to give a guy some warning.”
“Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me, Mr. Mouth Rugby.”
He shakes his head. “You’re crazy.”
I reach for my water glass, which has been untouched until now. I take a big drink, fuming over the nerve of Drew, lying and saying I’m the one who kissed him.
He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re drinking that water, because for a minute, I thought you were going to toss it in my face.”
I stop drinking and throw the remaining second half in his face.
Sopping wet, he holds one hand to his eye. “Ow! You got me with the lemon wedge.”
“Boohoo. Let me see it.” I pull his hand down. His eye does look a little red, but there’s nothing stuck in it.
He reaches down and grabs the hem of his shirt. He pulls it all the way up, revealing a very appealing torso, and a belly button that’s downright adorable. He mops his face with the hem of his shirt, raising it higher and higher. I hold my breath as his nipples are revealed. They’re perfect. I’m not saying I wouldn’t date a guy with big pepperoni nipples, but, all things being equal, I do prefer the smaller, non-pepperoni ones.
He pulls the shirt down again and licks his lips. “Good job. You got most of the wine rinsed off.”
“I didn’t do it.” I clutch my hands tightly together on my lap. “My hand did that, not me. I think my hand might have Tourette’s.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Shut up. You are not. You’re just being contrary.”
“I have a certificate.”
“Where?”
“At my dental practice.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re a dentist, not a doctor.”
“Yes, I am. I’m Dr. Morgan.”
I shake my head. “No way. That can’t be your last name. If I married you, I’d be Megan Morgan.”
He gives me a funny look. “Tonight is certainly a fascinating journey into how your brain works. Is that your real name? Megan? Why does everyone call you Meenie?” He shakes his head. “Never mind. I shouldn’t ask. That’s something people who are dating would do, and you and I are just friends. Feather’s orders.”
“Tonight doesn’t count, because we’re both drunk.”
“Do you want to come back to my place?”
“No. I’m not interested in one night of mediocre sex.”
He smiles, which is not the reaction I expected. “Who says it’ll be mediocre? I predict it will be terrible. I am terrible in bed. Plus I’ve had a few beers, and up until recently, my balls have been in someone else’s purse.” He keeps grinning, really working the whole self-deprecating thing in a way that makes me want to cradle him in my arms and tell him everything’s going to be magical.
He continues, “In case you’re not reading between the lines, what I’m saying is that I haven’t been with anyone since my breakup, two years ago.”
“Do you mean you haven’t been with the same hookup twice in a row since then?”
His dark brown eyes lock on mine. “I’m being honest with you. I don’t know what came over me the first
The whole world tilts, suddenly.
I’m falling.
Not falling in love.
Falling off my chair.
Our lips pull apart as we hit the ancient carpet of the pub’s floor. We must be having an earthquake. I look around in shock as we both scramble to right ourselves.
The guys over by the pool table are staring, and one calls over to us, “Need a hand there, Drew?”
“We should get into a doorway, or outside,” I tell Drew breathlessly as I jump up from the floor.
He pushes my shoulders and does the sheepdog thing again, where he herds me down into my chair. His chair is overturned, so he rights it, and takes a seat next to me.
Wincing because I already know the answer, I say, “I guess we’re not having an earthquake?”
He holds up his hand between us. “Listen, Meenie. I’m not against kissing you, but you’ve got to give a guy some warning.”
“Excuse me? You’re the one who kissed me, Mr. Mouth Rugby.”
He shakes his head. “You’re crazy.”
I reach for my water glass, which has been untouched until now. I take a big drink, fuming over the nerve of Drew, lying and saying I’m the one who kissed him.
He chuckles again. “I’m glad you’re drinking that water, because for a minute, I thought you were going to toss it in my face.”
I stop drinking and throw the remaining second half in his face.
Sopping wet, he holds one hand to his eye. “Ow! You got me with the lemon wedge.”
“Boohoo. Let me see it.” I pull his hand down. His eye does look a little red, but there’s nothing stuck in it.
He reaches down and grabs the hem of his shirt. He pulls it all the way up, revealing a very appealing torso, and a belly button that’s downright adorable. He mops his face with the hem of his shirt, raising it higher and higher. I hold my breath as his nipples are revealed. They’re perfect. I’m not saying I wouldn’t date a guy with big pepperoni nipples, but, all things being equal, I do prefer the smaller, non-pepperoni ones.
He pulls the shirt down again and licks his lips. “Good job. You got most of the wine rinsed off.”
“I didn’t do it.” I clutch my hands tightly together on my lap. “My hand did that, not me. I think my hand might have Tourette’s.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Shut up. You are not. You’re just being contrary.”
“I have a certificate.”
“Where?”
“At my dental practice.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re a dentist, not a doctor.”
“Yes, I am. I’m Dr. Morgan.”
I shake my head. “No way. That can’t be your last name. If I married you, I’d be Megan Morgan.”
He gives me a funny look. “Tonight is certainly a fascinating journey into how your brain works. Is that your real name? Megan? Why does everyone call you Meenie?” He shakes his head. “Never mind. I shouldn’t ask. That’s something people who are dating would do, and you and I are just friends. Feather’s orders.”
“Tonight doesn’t count, because we’re both drunk.”
“Do you want to come back to my place?”
“No. I’m not interested in one night of mediocre sex.”
He smiles, which is not the reaction I expected. “Who says it’ll be mediocre? I predict it will be terrible. I am terrible in bed. Plus I’ve had a few beers, and up until recently, my balls have been in someone else’s purse.” He keeps grinning, really working the whole self-deprecating thing in a way that makes me want to cradle him in my arms and tell him everything’s going to be magical.
He continues, “In case you’re not reading between the lines, what I’m saying is that I haven’t been with anyone since my breakup, two years ago.”
“Do you mean you haven’t been with the same hookup twice in a row since then?”
His dark brown eyes lock on mine. “I’m being honest with you. I don’t know what came over me the first
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