The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 1)

“Want the truth? Yes and no.”

“Why do I not like the sound of that?”

“Because the truth is that yeah, he doesn’t want me dating you. I don’t necessarily think he’s jealous, I think he thinks…shit, I don’t know. It’s like he thinks I’m ditching him for good, almost like I’m abandoning him—it’s the weirdest thing.”

“Do I have cause to worry? He’s not going to be hiding in the bushes when I get home to knock me off, is he?” She gives a nervous little laugh, and now I feel like the biggest horse’s ass for mentioning it in the first place.

“He wouldn’t hurt you. He’s angry at himself, not at you. He just doesn’t realize it yet.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “But now it’s starting to affect you, and that’s what worries me.”

“Why should it worry you?”

“Because, I…” She clears her throat. “Because I care about you Sebastian.”

My girl adds an eye roll.

A huge grin spreads on my face and I lean toward her to change the subject. “You care about me, huh? That’s it?”

Eye roll. “Don’t be an ass. Of course I care.”

Care. I wonder if that’s a code word for a stronger feeling she’s not ready to admit yet…the same way I haven’t admitted it to her, or said it out loud.

It’s too soon to know for sure.

Isn’t it?

Once again, a palpable silence settles over the room, the weight of words lingering above us.

“Jameson, let me…” My voice trails off, the next words out of my mouth breaking the tension. “Sex you on the table.”

“Oh my god!” She laughs, tossing a pen at me. It hits my chest and ricochets to the carpeted floor. “We are not having sex in a public place!”

I gesture around the room. “Come on, this is hardly public. There are four walls and a solid door, if you don’t count the window. Besides, don’t say you haven’t thought about doing it with me every time we’ve been in here.”

“Um, I can honestly say I have not thought about it, but clearly you have.”

I stare at her like she’s crazy. “Um, clearly. Hate to break it to ya, but screwing is pretty much the only thing I think about when I’m with you.”

“Well put it out of your mind; we’re not having sex in the library.”

“What’s it gonna take to convince you?”

“Nothing. Nothing is going to convince me to let you sex me on the table. It’s not going to happen.”

“Want to make a bet?”

Another eye roll makes three. “No Sebastian, because you still owe me for the last bet we made.”

“How ’bout I pay you in orgasms? Two hundred and fifty of them.”

“Hmmm.” She taps her chin with a pink fingernail, considering my offer. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”

My smirk is smug. “The last time you said I’ll think about it, you ended up sticking your tongue down my throat in the middle of the library.”

“Shut up!” She pitches another pen. “Can we please get to work?”

“Oh god…right there…can’t you do it any harder?”

“Baby, I’m trying…if I do it any harder, I’m going to break this shitty table. It’s plywood.”

“My ass…m-my ass in on the laptop keys and it’s digging into my hip…oh god…don’t stop doing that…feels so good…”

“Shit…shit…did you hear that cracking noise? I told you we were going to…break this…fuck…ing table…”

“It’s worth it, s-so ssss…so worth it…”

“Don’t stop don’t stop I’m coming, I’m coming…”

“So much for not having sex in public, Little Miss Priss.”

“Come on, baby.” Jameson affects a staged, decidedly male voice. “This is hardly public. There are four walls and a solid door, if you don’t count the window.”

“Very funny, smartass.”

“We don’t have time to bask in the afterglow. You should probably pull your pants up.”

“Bask in the afterglow—I like the sound of that.”

“Awww, you really are a closet romantic after all.”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

Sebastian

“What the hell do you think you and your crap are doing on my stoop?”

The wind blows, kicking up snow and sending frigid cold air whipping past me and into the hotel room. The gust has Jameson’s long loose hair swirling around her shoulders.

I’m standing in front of the same hotel room door, letting my red duffle drop to the frozen, snowy ground. A bright lime green snowboard leans against the doorjamb, along with a black boot bag and my clothes. “My old pal Chad said your roommate bailed on you,” I tease with a casual shrug of my shoulders.

“Chad you say? Hmmm…I heard he graduated and got a job at a tech company. You’ll have to come up with a better line that that; I can’t let just anyone pass through this door—my boyfriend would kill me, and he’ll be here any minute.”

“Your boyfriend sounds awesome—and really good looking.”

Jameson crosses her arms and shrugs, noncommittal. “Meh, he’s all right. I wouldn’t push him out of bed.”