Something About a Hot Guy

One

Kenna

My fingers flew across the laptop keys. My bottom lip was tucked between my teeth in astute concentration, my attention laser-focused as I pounded out the best answer I could find to the question that had been left sometime last night.

I had to get it right.

I never wanted to mislead people or act like I had the perfect solution.

I just wanted to be honest.

Open and honest.

And sometimes that was really hard.

But that’s what this was all about—cutting myself wide open and laying it out.

Giving people encouragement. Hoping they’d realize they weren’t alone. See that we could all have a little fun with it along the way.

My heart raced a little harder than normal as I typed. Adrenaline always got the best of me when I got lost in the little fantasy world I’d created.

As if I were caught somewhere between a dream and reality.

That was hope, though, wasn’t it? It didn’t always hinge on fact. It all lived in the realm of possibility.

My phone buzzed where it sat on the floor next to me, and I grinned when I saw it was my best friend and roommate.

Vanessa: Why aren’t you here? Vegas is lonely without you!

With a small smile, I shook my head. She was crazy.

Me: I promise Vegas does not miss me. Vegas and I are not friends.

Vanessa: That’s because you haven’t given her a chance. She’s really sweet once you get to know her.

I could almost see her feigned pout from across the country.

A full grin took to my mouth as I quickly replied.

Me: You also said that about the five-inch heels you tried to get me to wear out last weekend. We all know how that turned out.

It had ended with a faceplant and a bloody nose and a promise to myself to never leave the house again.

So yeah. I was a clutz. As awkward as they came, and even nerdier than that. Luckily, Vanessa still loved me for it.

Vanessa: You sell yourself short. And we miss you. A lot. It’s no fun without you here.

She and our other two best friends had gone on a girls’ trip. Vanessa had tried to convince me to go. She should have known me well enough to know I would have tried to sneak away to the hotel room while they were slinking off to clubs, anyway. That I felt much more comfortable in the shadows rather than traipsing around all night under the neon lights.

Me: I’m as happy as pie. Don’t worry about me.

Vanessa: What flavor of pie? And just how happy is pie?

Laughter popped out. She really was crazy.

Vanessa: Seriously, I love and miss you. I wish you didn’t feel the need to hide. You’re way too amazing for that.

A wave of loneliness crested through my being. Sometimes I wished for that, too. That it was easier for me to step out. I was trying, but some steps were just too big, like spending a weekend out on the strip.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

At the sudden pounding at the door, my head snapped up from my phone and a high-pitched squeak escaped.

My attention flew to the open screen of my computer before it went darting around the living room as if I had gotten caught red-handed in the most salacious of acts.

I slammed down the lid in a bid to hide the evidence, set it aside, and pushed to my feet.

I tugged down my oversized sweater a little farther and fumbled across the living room, doing my best to still my rattled nerves.

For real—it was ridiculous that I reacted this way. That one single thing out of order, out of the expected, and anxiousness was making a play to ruin my day.

I was working on that. Embracing who I was and improving upon her, at the same time.

Chances were, it was someone making a delivery or trying to sell something, anyway. I didn’t need to get spun up over a little knocking.

With all the confidence I had, I popped up to peek through the peephole.

Oh, and there my confidence went. Bursting like a balloon cuddling up with a barbed-wire fence.

At the fuzzy sight, my heart sputtered, my knees went weak, and a whole sea of sweat gathered on the nape of my neck.

Oh my God.

Oh no.

Pulse racing, I tried to control my breaths that had started to come short and choppy.

I was gonna have a panic attack.

I sank back down onto my heels, attention darting from side-to-side, searching for an escape, only to jump about ten feet in the air when another round of battering took to the door. Only this time it was accompanied by a rough, “Open up.”

Silky and hard.

Was that even possible?

Okay, I had more important things to do than ponder the sexy tenor of his voice. Like figuring out how in the world I was going to get out of this.