“Love,” he blurted. “It’s not like, it’s love.” And then he winced. “Ah, fuck.”
I gaped at him.
“Um, let’s forget I said that,” he rushed out, looking extraordinarily panicked. “Let’s go back to the part where you like me and—”
“Holy fucking flaming balls of fire,” I breathed. “You love me.”
“That’s not what I meant to say. I wasn’t even talking about that. I was talking about—”
“Like full-on, star-crossed love me,” I continued on as if he wasn’t speaking at all. Because, in reality, I could barely even hear him. It was one thing to hear it from his brother, but it was something else entirely to hear it from the Homo Jock King. “How is it possible that I get even more amazing than I already am?”
“Oh Jesus Christ,” he muttered, rolling onto his back and covering his face with his hands.
“Who’s the smug one now, bitches!” I crowed.
“I chose this,” he said to no one in particular. “All of my choices have led to this. Why didn’t anyone warn me?”
“When I’m famous and getting interviewed by Ryan Seacrest or Hilary Clinton, they’re going to ask me my thoughts on Syria and the Kardashians, and I’ll tell them you said it first.”
“Why would you be getting interviewed by Hil—you know what? No. I am not even going to ask.”
“When I get my first Academy Award for my portrayal of Meryl Streep in the biographic film Streep Smar
ts, I’m going to thank God, Meryl Streep, and then my bae who told me he loved me first.”
Darren groaned. But I saw through it now. While one thought that it might have been a sound of disdain and derision, I knew it for what it truly was.
“You don’t need to do your mating call anymore,” I told him. “I already accept.”
“Mating call,” he muttered, and I debated getting my mouth on his nipples again.
“You mounted me in a show of dominance,” I said with a shrug, “after completing your mating dance. If we were yaks, it’d be clear.”
“Yaks,” he said. “Is this a regular occurrence after sex with you? Just so I know for the future.”
“Nah,” I said easily. “This happens after my boyfriend says he loves me.”
“Right,” he said dryly. “And we all know that—wait.”
I waited, but because I wanted to. Not because he told me to.
He turned back over until we were face to face. “You just called me your boyfriend.” He sounded nervous and shy all at the same time. It was a deadly combination that legit made me want to stare into his eyes lovingly or maybe lick his balls.
I tried to play it cool because apparently we were fourteen-year-old girls. “I did.” So cool. Like ice.
“I’m your boyfriend,” he said, and I didn’t think I’d ever heard anyone sound that much in awe of me before. It was a heady feeling.
But, given that I thought it only fair he be warned what he was getting into, I said, “I’m demanding. In that I demand everything go exactly how I want it to.”
“We’re dating,” he said, like he hadn’t heard me at all.
“I have very expensive tastes. And by that, I mean you’ll be buying me whatever I ask for, even if you have to take out a second mortgage to afford it.”
“Hi, everyone. Nice to see you. This is my boyfriend, Sandy. Why yes, we are an attractive couple, thank you for noticing.”
“I tell people I do yoga too so they think I’m cool, but I really don’t do yoga and instead eat sour cream and onion potato chips while watching renovation porn with Corey.”
“Why yes, Sandy and I will be there because we’re boyfriends and we do things together all the time.”