Dangerous Crush (Dangerous Noise 2)

"B-list? You flatter yourself." Her blue eyes light up as she smiles. "You really don't know me, Kit. You have no idea what kind of girl I am."

There's something in my chest, this warmth. I want to know Piper. Not just her body—though there is a part of me that wants that—but her.

I can't remember the last time I felt like that about anybody.

Most people aren't worth knowing. Most people will take what they can get from you and throw you away. Most people won't give a fuck about you.

I don't need a pity party. I have three people I can count on. That's a lot better than most people do. Dangerous Noise, that's my family. Mal, Ethan, and Joel are the only people in the world I trust.

Shouldn't be having this conversation with Piper.

But the way she's blushing is too adorable to resist.

I look into her eyes, daring her to stare back. "You can't even look me in the eyes while you say that."

"Because I saw you... it was awkward."

"Not for me." Or it wouldn't have been if it was any other woman walking in.

"Why not?"

"Haven't always felt the need for privacy."

"Oh."

"Are you a virgin?"

Her cheeks turn red.

I'm tempted to ask again, to see just how red she can get.

She cuts off my train of thought. "Yes. I've never done anything with a guy... anything more than making out. I like guys. I date. It just hasn't happened." She grabs the remote back and flips through channels. "You're right. Let's talk about something else."

The TV hits a rerun of Sex and the City. "Stop."

"You watch Sex and the City?"

"Yeah. I make fun of it with Joel."

"You do realize this show is too racy for nice girls."

"Not the TBS version," I say.

"Want to bet?"

"Yeah, loser buys dinner."

She shakes my hand. "You're on."

&n

bsp; Turns out, the edited version of Sex and the City is racy as hell. Still, I enjoy poking fun at the show with Piper. She's on the same wavelength about the perpetually single women being both endearing and frustratingly superficial.

When the delivery arrives, I'm glad to pay.

I would have insisted on paying either way. I'm glad to have an excuse—means we can skip the argument.

Piper takes the paper bags and sets them on the kitchen island. She pulls out all the containers—must be a dozen containers—and does away with their lids. She looks up at me. "Thanks for dinner."