Filmed_ An Alpha Bad Boy Romance(10)

As I got closer, he looked up. Initially his expression was bored contempt, as if the world were constantly a disappointment, but as he looked at me, it changed. His features brightened, and that cocky, self-assured grin appeared.

“Well hey, polka dots,” he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

“Stop calling me that,” I said.

“Give me a reason to, and maybe I will.”

I sighed. I couldn’t remember why I thought it would be easy to have a normal conversation with him.

“Look, I have a weird question for you.”

“Yes, I will go down on you in the bathroom.”

I blushed, and the image of his lips pressed between my legs jumped unbidden into my mind. My eyes ran over his muscled chest.

What a dick.

“Can you be serious for one second?”

He struggled to make his face into a mask of blank seriousness. “Okay then. How may I help you, Linda?”

I sighed. I guessed that was the best I’d get. “Okay so, my mom is this film critic named Marilyn Lewis. I was talking to her on the phone, and I mentioned getting a job here. When your dad came up, she got all weird about it. Any clue why?”

He looked thoughtful for a second. “Honestly, polka dots? I have no clue.”

“Have you ever heard her name before?”

He shook his head. “No, I haven’t. But I’m not exactly close with daddy dearest.”

Great. Back to square one, then. I briefly wondered what he meant by “not close,” but I put it out of my mind. I didn’t need his spoiled asshole drama on top of my own.

“Thanks anyway,” I said.

His serious expression was replaced by a small smirk. “So, you were telling your mom about me? A little soon, don’t you think?”

I let out a sigh of exasperation and rolled my eyes. “Are you always this self-involved?”

His grin intensified as he stood up and took a few steps closer. His body filled the space between us, and my breath caught in my chest. He moved with a surprising grace for someone so large. I had the insane impulse to reach out and trace the contours of his ripped chest, but resisted.

“Only when girls like you can’t keep away from me.”

I snorted. “You don’t even know me.” I considered adding, “and you’re a total asshole,” but decided not to.

“Want to get out of here and remedy that, then?”

Based on the tone he was using, I had a feeling he didn’t mean a nice, chaste conversation over coffee. I briefly considered agreeing, and had another imagine of him taking me back to his apartment and slowly pulling my panties down my goose bump covered skin. That was crazy, though. Before I could answer, maybe tell him he could go learn about himself, an incredibly high-pitched voice cut across the lobby.

“Noah!” We both looked over, and I instantly recognized Stripper Barbie from our film history class standing by the staircase and looking impatient.

“Looks like your stripper girlfriend is calling,” I said. I thought he was done with her, and a pang of jealousy ran through me, which was crazy. From everything I’d learned about Noah Carterson, it was clear that he was a player and a manwhore. Why did one more blonde chick matter to me?

I didn’t even like him.

He looked at me, and I didn’t recognize the expression that flashed across his face for a brief moment. It was quickly replaced by his confident smile, but I was left wondering what it had meant.

“See you later, polka dots,” he said, then started to walk off toward the stairs. “Hey, Chuck, cover my shift?” Noah called out as he passed by the stand. Chuck gave him a nod and a wave. I couldn’t believe he was skipping out on work and asking someone to cover for him, but I guessed being the benefactor’s son had its perks. Chuck seemed agreeable enough, at least.

I watched as he approached blondie, and they had a short, whispered conversation, and then started up the stairs together. They didn’t hold hands or hook arms or anything, but I knew that was a childish gauge of their relationship. You didn’t need to show public affection for someone to bang their brains out, which I guessed wasn’t hard with Stripper Barbie, since there wasn’t much there to bang out to begin with.

Once they were out of sight, I started back toward the stairs. I felt oddly frustrated; Noah hadn’t been any help with trying to decode my mom’s strange behavior on the phone, but worse than that, he had me imagining running my fingers along the tattoo on his chest I had glimpsed the other day. There was nothing I wanted less than to get hung up on Noah Carterson, total asshole and manslut, but there I was, running through a million scenarios in my head, and wondering why he was leaving with Stripper Barbie instead of me.