The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag 1)

“Same.” She walks into the bathroom to plunk her toiletries on the counter. “I’m exhausted from the drive. Let’s watch a movie and go to bed.”

“Good idea. We should take advantage of tonight before my family gets here in the morning, because once they do, you’ll be rooming with Kayla and I’ll be camping out on my parent’s floor.”

“You’re always trying to take advantage.” The laugh comes from around her toothbrush.

I join her in the bathroom, stepping close so my hands can roam up her sides, burying my nose in the crook of her neck as she brushes her teeth. “I don’t have to try very hard, do I?”

“Oh please, I can totally resist you. Remember that day you decided not to wear pants in a desperate attempt to get me to seduce you?” She removes the toothbrush and taps her chin as she recollects. “It was a useless attempt to reverse psychology me, but I lasted the entire day without jumping your bones. I practically had super powers.”

“Whatever. That didn’t count because you took off your pants as a counter attack, which didn’t work. Ended up screwing anyway.”

She sighs, toothpaste dripping form the corner of her mouth. “At least we gave it the old college try.”

“We sure did.”

My heart is pounding a million miles a minute, pounding like it’s never pounded before. Not even when I was introduced to the scout for the Olympic wrestling team last semester. Not when I told him no, I wasn’t going to be advancing my wrestling career and joining the team.

I was done. Mind was made up.

I plan to intern for a law firm in my hometown next summer with the hopes of getting a job in their human resources department. Then I’m going to buy a house with Jameson and we’re going to live together, get married, and make cardigan-wearing babies.

I crack open the black velvet ring box, drop to one knee, and present it to her, lid open. Jameson’s blue eyes widen, hands flying to her mouth in astonished surprise. “Sebastian.” She breathes. “It’s beautiful.”

It doesn’t escape my notice that she hasn’t reached for the ring.

“Jameson Victoria Clark. Will you marry me?”

“I don’t know what to say…”

“Say yes.” I laugh, as if there isn’t anything to discuss and this is a done deal. “Have I shocked the shit out of you? Why aren’t you saying yes?”

“I can’t,” she whispers, her breath leaving her body in short puffs. The air turns frigid cold and steam rises from our mouths. “I can’t marry you.”

Can’t marry me? What the ever-loving fuck.

“Can’t?” I snap the ring box closed. “Or won’t.”

Her head gives a tiny, almost imperceptible shake. “Can’t. Won’t.”

“Why?” I demand. “Why won’t you marry me?”

“You don’t even know me Sebastian.”

I fumble to my feet, reaching for her. “Baby, please. What do you mean I don’t know you? You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine…”

“Then why aren’t you saying yes?” I repeat, voice cracking. “I tell you everything; you know things even my parents and sister don’t know. Things I’ve never told the guys, or my coaches.” I suck in a breath. “James, I…I…”

The three little words I’ve never said to her get lodged in my throat, choking me, making me hesitate.

Jameson pulls away, her eyebrows going up. She glowers. “See? Right there. That’s the reason I can’t marry you.”

“Big deal. It’s only been seven months. Lots of people don’t say the L word after only a few months.”

“Stop talking, Sebastian, you’re making it worse. The fact that you can’t even tell me you lo—” Her sob cuts off whatever she’s about to say.

“Baby, I’m an idiot…what do you expect?”

“I expect more than a man that makes excuses about why he can’t tell me how he feels.” Her anger turns to a cry, a steady stream of tears pooling down her flushed cheeks.

“Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

“This dream is turning into a fucking nightmare,” I moan.

“That’s because you’re dreaming.”

“No,” I argue. “This is a goddamn nightmare, Jameson—”

“Sebastian. Sebastian wake up, you’re having a dream.”

With a start, I gasp, jolting myself awake.

“Shhhh, you were crying.” Jameson’s delicate palm runs down the course of my spine in a gentle stroke, landing at my waist and wrapping around my middle. I feel the pillows of her pouty lips plant a kiss to the planes of my shoulder blades, her hot breath caressing my bare skin as she spoons me from behind.

“I was?”

“You were,” she whispers with another kiss on my shoulder.

“Fuck, sorry. Did I wake you up?”

She nods. “You did, but it’s okay.”

Shit. “What was I saying?”

“You don’t remember?”

I lay in the dark, staring at the wall before rolling to my back. Moonlight floods the hotel room, casting a warm glow on Jameson’s beautiful, worried face.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her voice is a gentle caress from the shadows.