The Junior (College Years 3) - Page 30

“I never said I don’t like kissing,” I say with an eye roll. “I just—avoid it.”

“Oh. So now you’re telling me you like kissing,” she says, her voice flat.

“Yes, I totally do.” And I’d really like to kiss Gracie—all over her body, if she’ll let me.

“Having sex with you complicates everything,” she not so kindly reminds me. “We live together, Caleb. You know whatever we start won’t last.”

“Are you really looking for something to last, Gracie? Or are you just looking for someone to scratch your itch?” I raise a brow, hoping my approach works.

I’m ready for some fireworks, and not just the ones in the sky, either.

Hey it’s the 4th of July. It’s a given I’m going to make some cheesy fireworks pun.

“Maybe I don’t want you scratching my itch,” she says with a tiny frown.

“Oh come on, G. Of course you do. It would be great between us and you know it,” I tell her, letting all of my arrogance pour right out of me.

“That kiss we shared wasn’t that great, you know,” she says, wounding me with her words. “You weren’t putting your heart into it.”

“What does my heart have to do with any of this?” I ask incredulously.

She rises to her feet, bracing her hands on top of the desk as she glares at me. “Right. Sorry I mentioned the word heart, since you’re such an unfeeling asshole.”

I jump to my feet too, towering over her. And she’s no shrimp either. “What the fuck? Now you’re calling me an asshole? Give me a break. At least I’m not an uptight ice queen.”

“I’m not uptight, you dick!” She flounces away from her desk, headed straight for the door, but I’m quicker than her. I’m on that door before she is, blocking her way. “Move it.”

“No.”

“Caleb…” Her voice is a warning, and I can see the furious glint in her eyes.

Girl means business.

“Hear me out, G,” I plead with her and she takes a step back, crossing her arms. “I went up to the restaurant on my break, trying to find some random girl for a potential hookup, and none of them interested me. All I could think about was…you.”

“Oh gee, that’s so romantic, Caleb. I love that you went in search of a random hookup and came up empty so you thought you’d check with me to see if I’m interested instead.” She clutches her hands together in front of her chest as added emphasis.

“Whoever said it had to be romantic between us? I’m trying to be real with you right now. I’m not about romance. I’m not about any of that stuff.” I take a step forward, the scent of sunscreen and flowers hitting me. I inhale subtly, savoring her fragrance. “But I know I can make you feel good.”

She keeps glaring at me, people yelling and cheering just outside on the dock. The only thing separating us from the crowd growing is the door I’m currently standing in front of. She’s still in pure defensive mode with her arms crossed and that glare on her face, but I can see the rapid throb of her pulse at the base of her neck, and I’m thinking she likes what I’m telling her.

“We aren’t looking for a relationship,” I tell her. “You aren’t. Neither am I. So why not mess around? You know you want it. You’ve been wanting it since the first night we met.”

“I want what?” she asks warily.

“Me. Us. Together. Tangled up in the sheets,” I answer.

Her eyes widen the slightest bit but otherwise, I see no other reaction.

I bet she’d be hard to read during a poker game.

“What do you say?” I ask after she still hasn’t said anything.

“I think it’s a terrible idea,” she says, always my blunt, truthful Gracie. “You’ll catch feelings for me.”

“I won’t catch shit,” I say with confidence. “I never do.”

“Not with any girl?”

Tags: Monica Murphy College Years Romance
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