“Close enough.” I ignored the blatant stares in our direction. Girls. Sometimes there were just too many of them. Damn, if I closed my eyes I could still feel Blake’s fingers grazing the front of my jeans. Her nimble hands just needed to reach a bit farther.
I was nearly arching off the bench when my text alert went off. Shit.
Blake: FREAKING OUT!
Ian: Inside voice. Lex can hear you, and he hates mornings.
Blake: Dinner date this week--his dad bailed. It’s just us. I’ve never been on a date.
My stomach recoiled. “Well, shit.”
“Something wrong?” Lex glanced up from his phone, thankfully missing the giant erection I was sporting by just thinking about Blake. I’d never hear the end of it if he thought her texts were enough to get me going.
“Yeah.” I sighed and sent a text back to Blake. “I’ve gotta fake a date with Blake so she doesn’t puke all over David.”
“So what?”
So I’ll wish it was real. That’s what, jackass.
For once, my brain and my body were in complete agreement.
“Nothing. Just . . . a lot on my mind.”
Good timing that a girl with a huge rack just happened to mosey on past us, gaining Lex’s attention, and adoration. He barked out, “I know exactly what you mean.”
Two weeks ago I would have waved the girl over and then proceeded to bend her over as fast as possible, preferably against the closest and most sturdy object I could find. But now? The idea of sex did nothing for me. Her fake tits were just that: fake. Her smile was the same. And, damn, did every stupid girl really have to wave with all five fingers? It was like she was wiggling worms in my direction and I was a bird just waiting to take a bite.
The girl stopped midstride, turned, and eyed both me and Lex in a come-hither stare that had Lex sucking in a deep breath and standing. “I’d ask if you wanna join, but something tells me you won’t be able to get it up.”
I guess that made Lex the peacock in this scenario.
“Funny.” I snorted. “Try to let her down easy afterward, Lex.”
“Please.” He started walking away, and his ridiculous swagger had its desired effect. The girl checked him out, then started breathing way heavier than necessary for doing nothing but standing with her mouth hanging open. “I always do. And when that doesn’t work, I just give them a fake phone number.”
“You’re such a good guy. Seriously,” I called after him. “A saint!”
“Hear that?” he said, approaching the girl. “I’m a saint. Care to confess your sins?”
I choked on my laugh as I pulled out my phone and sent a text back to Blake.
Ian: I’ll be at your house tonight at 6. Have Gabs help you get ready. What she says goes. No arguing.
Blake: But her idea of a date includes very tight dresses.
Ian: I’m sorry, were you trying to tease me? Make my mouth water while simultaneously seeing if you’re good at flirting via text? What’s the problem?
Blake: They’re tight!
Ian: And?
Blake: I can’t eat in tight dresses.
Ian: Try.
Blake: But . . .
Ian: You want my help or not? I’m your love coach. Stop being so argumentative. Oh, and wear your hair up.
Blake: Fine, but if I end up passing out because I can’t eat anything out of the bread basket, I’m blaming you.
I sighed, and with a smile texted her back.
Ian: Might be worth it, to see your tight ass in a tight dress with your tight tits and tight . . . Oh, I’m sorry, lost track of where I was going with that.#p#分页标题#e#
Blake: You really are a pig.
Ian: Teacup. Don’t forget.
She didn’t text back after that, and I had work to do if I was going to pull off the perfect date. My heart raced in my chest as I quickly searched through my catalog of restaurants. Oh shit. It wasn’t a real date. It was a fake date. I’d done it a million times. I liked to call this one the “Let’s get it all out of your system” play. You do a practice run with the chick before her first date with the guy she really likes; that way, she doesn’t have any surprises. Most girls build up the date so much in their minds that they can’t relax enough to eat a leaf of lettuce, let alone hold a conversation. Lex and I figured that if we made the practice date feel as real as possible and added in possible scenarios—basically doing a test run before the big game—it would help ease their nerves and make them less likely to choke on a peanut or accidently snort while laughing.
Even though it wasn’t a real date, the smile wouldn’t leave my cocky-ass face.
Well, that was new.
I scrolled through the restaurants, but nothing sounded good or even remotely interesting. Blake wasn’t the type of girl you wanted to impress with expensive prices and pretentious company. She genuinely liked food, and I imagined she’d probably yell at me if I took her someplace where the idea of food was one carrot with balsamic drizzled over it.