Mr. Fiancé(108)

“Maybe,” Duncan says, his hand warm as it takes mine. "But remember, I could be just doing that as an act, trying to get into your pants."

I laugh and lean in until we're close. "Duncan, in case you haven't noticed . . . I'm not wearing any pants."

We're so close that I can feel his breath on my lips, and I want to kiss him so badly that I'm willing to let go of my nervousness, but before we can close that last little gap between us, a voice interrupts us.

"Well, Duncan, so nice to see you!"

We part, and I look up to see a lean redhead coming up with some other girl, both of them practically wearing a designer catalog on their fashion-model bodies, all tight jeans, pearled tops that hug their size-four bodies, and perfectly coiffed hair. They both are screaming sorority with their body language, and the disdain in their eyes when they see me is evident.

Duncan, however, seems happy to see them, and smiles widely. "Tiffany! Mandy! How nice to see you. What's got you here on a Wednesday night?"

“We were invited to a new club that's opening this weekend, but the owner's having a special sneak peek event," Tiffany titters, pointing down the block. "Since Mandy and I don't have morning class, we were going to check it out. What about you? You can even bring your . . . friend."

The way she says friend lets me know that she’s jealous, but I keep my mouth shut. Girls like Tiffany have always intimidated me. They were the ones, back in high school, who were driving new cars while I had to ride the bus or hitch a ride with some of my teammates on the softball team if my parents couldn't pick me up from practice. They had the nicest clothes, the hottest guys, and all the perks, while I had a softball bat and calluses on my palms.

Now I'm confronted by not just one, but two girls like this, and I realize that I'm out on a date with a guy who is one of them. Duncan is a hot shot, one of those guys that every guy wants to be and every girl wants to be with. I'm looking at Tiffany, and she's practically got 'Fuck Me, Duncan' written on her forehead, but he’s sitting back and taking it in stride. He doesn't understand.

“We'll see. What's the name of the place?"

"Blowouts," Tiffany says, emphasizing the blow part. I wonder, if I wait long enough, would she get under the table and suck him off right here? "It's two blocks that direction."

“All right. For now, though, I need to fuel up from practice," Duncan says. "Check you girls later."

"Sounds good. Duncan, and . . . well, anyway, see you," Tiffany says, walking off before I can even tell her my name. Duncan watches them for a second, then turns his eyes back to me, where he sees that I'm not happy.

"What?"

"You didn't even introduce me, Duncan. That's pretty rude, you know?"

He shrugs and spreads his hands. "I figured you were going to speak up any second. You know, the way you stood up to me, I didn't think those sorority sluts would get you like that. Chill."

"Chill? You treated me exactly how they think of me—that I’m beneath them. And I saw Tiffany's face. You've given her the full effect, haven't you?" I shouldn’t be getting jealous, but I can’t help it.

"She's never had the pleasure of having a Hart Attack," Duncan says, and I gawk at him. He has a fucking nickname for his sex skills? What the fuck?

“You think that makes it all right?” I ask, standing up and folding my napkin. "No offense, but I'm not in the mood to play invisible good-time girl for your Hart Attack any time soon. I won’t be a side piece.”

"Carrie, come on!" Duncan says, getting up and stepping in front of me. "We were having a good meal, and I thought a good date. Let's go back to that, okay? Listen, I'm sorry that I didn't introduce you to those girls, but what's the point? They're not the kind to take a liking to you anyway."

“So you’d rather keep your playmates separated by social class?" I ask, now fully pissed off. "No thanks, Touchdown." I make sure to emphasize Touchdown to let him know how mad I am.

He recoils, his face darkening as he finally feels the anger I've been feeling for the past few minutes. "Carrie, I'm not like that, and I think you know it. Sure, I’m no saint, but a lot of my reputation is built on rumor."

"Whatever. I’m not sure I believe that, but maybe we should just keep it semi-professional between us. I'll tape you up and help you in science, but other than that, I don't intend to let myself be given the Hart Attack any time soon. Good night, Duncan."



"Do you want to talk about it, honey?"

I'm back in my dorm room, a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios in my left hand while I have a huge spoon in my right. "What do you mean, Mom?"