“You asked why I’m so nice to you. It’s mutually beneficial.”
Shortcake came to a complete stop behind me. “You’re nice to me because you think I’m pretty?”
“And because you have brown eyes. I’m a sucker for big old brown eyes.” I laughed. “I’m a shallow, shallow boy. Hey, it helps that you’re pretty. It brings out the nice guy in me. Makes me want to share my cookies with you.”
“So if I was ugly, you wouldn’t be nice to me?”
Spinning around, I faced her. “I’d still be nice to you if you were ugly.”
“Okay.”
I grinned as I tipped my chin down, bringing our mouths close. “I just wouldn’t offer you any cookies.”
She folded her arms. “I’m beginning to think ‘cookie’ is a code word for something else.”
“Maybe it is.” I tugged on her bag again as I went down a step. “And just think about it. If ‘cookie’ is a code word, whatever it symbolizes, it’s been in your mouth, sweetheart.”
For a moment, she stared at me and then she laughed. The sound was untried and hoarse, as if she didn’t laugh often, and that caused that weird knot in my chest to throb. “You are really . . .”
“Amazing? Awesome?” I wanted to hear her laugh again. “Astonishing?”
“I was going to go with bizarre.”
“Well, hell, if I had feelings that might actually hurt.”
She grinned, and that meant we were close to a smile again. “I guess it’s a good thing that you don’t have feelings then, huh?”
“Guess so.” I hopped onto the landing. “You better hurry or you’re going to be late to your next class.”
Her eyes widened, and I laughed, stepping out the way so Shortcake didn’t run me over as she darted down the steps. “Damn, if only you moved that fast for my cookies, I’d be a happy guy.”
“Shut up!”
“Hey!” I came around to the top of the next flight of stairs. “Don’t you want to know what ‘cookies’ is a code word for?”
“No! Good God, no!”
I tipped back my head and laughed as the last strands of coppery hair disappeared from sight. I didn’t know what it was about Avery Morgansten, but she was better than the quiet girl in middle school who turned out to like girls.
A lot better.
Four
There were moments in my life where I had no idea how I got where I was. Like what exactly had occurred to create the situation I was in?
Steph, wearing another skirt that barely covered her ass, slid a hand down my arm. She said something, whispered in my ear, but I really wasn’t paying attention.
My gaze drifted from the TV to the hair band lying on my coffee table.
Oh, that’s how this all got started.
A text from Steph claiming that she’d left something “super important” at my apartment from the night of the party. A rubber band. If I only had known that was what she was looking for, I would’ve walked my ass to the Rite Aid and bought her a whole package of them.
“Want me to get you a beer from the fridge?” she asked.
She really was the perfect woman. “No. I’m good.”