“Oakley.”
“Fine, I’ll stick to R-rated.”
I bite my lip to stop from laughing. This guy is incorrigible.
“All right, what now…” Claudia muses. “Well. Obviously you’re going to have to go out tomorrow night.”
“Two nights in a row?” I balk.
She nods firmly. “Yes, because young love means you can’t wait to see each other. You want to spend every minute together.”
Um, no thanks. I might be entertained by Oakley’s antics right now, but that doesn’t mean I want to see him again so soon.
Claudia notices my unhappy expression and flicks up one eyebrow. “If you wanted space, you shouldn’t have had your first date in public.”
I’m quick to protest. “I was out with my family. He’s the one who decided to crash our dinner.”
Every pair of eyes in the room shifts toward Oakley, who’s flipping through a Cosmo magazine he grabbed off the coffee table.
He looks up and shrugs. “I was hungry.”
12
HIM
BeeBee_OF @OakleyFord_stanNo1 Please take screenshot of her account. It’s private.
OakleyFord_stanNo1 @BeeBee_OF Here u go.
BeeBee_OF @OakleyFord_stanNo1 She’s not even that cute.
OakleyFord_stanNo1 @BeeBee_OF I kno but we gotta respect Oakley’s choices. At least it’s not April Umbrella
BeeBee_OF @OakleyFord_stanNo1 true, but I hate her. Why can’t it be me?
BeeBee_OF @OakleyFord Pls follow me bae!
Vaughn shows up at my beachfront home around seven. She’s wearing jeans with a hole in the knee, a striped tank top and a big scowl.
“I cannot believe you sent a car for me!” she fumes as she enters the huge foyer.
“Hello to you, too,” I crack.
“It took us two hours to get here! I could’ve just taken the bus. It would’ve been way faster, and then your poor driver wouldn’t have had to sit in LA traffic there and back.”
She’s worried about the driver? That’s a first. The last time I sent a Towncar to pick up a date, the chick complained that it wasn’t a limo.
“It’s Marco’s job,” I tell Vaughn. “Trust me, he gets paid a fortune to sit in traffic.”
She doesn’t look appeased, and she barely even glances at her surroundings. Most people oooh and ahhh over the white marble floor, the high ceiling and the sparkling crystal chandelier, but Vaughn couldn’t care less.
Tyrese closes the front doors behind her and shoots me a wry grin over her head. Good luck with this one, he seems to be saying.
Awesome. We’re already off to a great start. “C’mon, let’s go to the living room,” I say with a sigh.
Vaughn follows me down the wide marble hallway, clutching her oversize canvas purse at her side like she’s afraid I’ll try to snatch it from her. I lead her into the enormous media room and gesture to the sectional.
“Sit down. You want something to drink?” I drift over to the bar area and open the stainless-steel fridge. “I’ve got beer, Coke, OJ, water—”
“Water, please.”
I grab a bottle of water and a beer for me then join her on the couch.
“You hungry?”
“I ate before I came.” She’s huddled over her phone, engrossed by whatever’s on the screen, but when she hears Ty’s footsteps edging toward the door, her head snaps up. “Where are you going?” she asks him, sounding nervous.
“Leaving you two alone.” His lips twitch. “Seeing as how you’re on a date and all.”
“Oh, no, please, stay,” she blurts out. “You can hang with us. Let’s play Monopoly or something. Please.”
My jaw hardens. Seriously? She’s literally begging Ty not to go. And she wants to play a board game? On a frickin’ date?
I’ve never been more insulted in my life.
“Uh…sounds fun, but…nah.” Looking like he’s choking down laughter, Ty ducks out of the room and shuts the door.
I twist off the bottle cap and glare at my date. “Monopoly? Really?”
Her brown eyes flicker with resignation. “It’s fine. We don’t have to play. I brought a book.”
To punctuate that, she sticks her hand in her monster purse and legit pulls out a paperback. I can’t see the title. I don’t care what the title is. Because this is fucking unacceptable.
“You realize there are millions of girls out there who would kill to be sitting beside me right now?” I say tightly.
She flips the book open, not even looking at me. “Yeah? Then why are you paying me to do it?”
I bristle at the reminder, but choose to ignore it. “Put the damn book away,” I order.
“Why? It’s not like this is a real date.”
“You just said so yourself—I’m paying you to be here. And I’m not spending my hard-earned money on sitting here and watching you read.” I scowl at her. “I decide what we’re gonna do.”
Her eyes flash for a moment, but she manages to rein in the comeback she clearly wants to hurl my way. Very methodically, she closes the book and puts it back in her bag. Then she primly clasps her hands in her lap. “Fine. What would you like to do, Oakley?”
“Call me Oak,” I say automatically.
“Pass.” She smirks. “I repeat—what would you like to do?”
I smirk back. “Make out.”
Vaughn squeaks in horror. “Ew. No.”
Ew?
I grit my teeth. “Don’t act like you don’t think I’m hot. I see the way you check me out.”
A blush blooms on her cheeks. “I have never checked you out.”
“Yeah, right. Yesterday at the fondue place, you couldn’t quit staring at my arms.” A cocky grin stretches my lips as I lift one arm and flex for her. “You like the gun show, huh?”
Her face turns even redder. “Stop being a jerk.”
“Stop pretending I’m not hot.”
Vaughn stares at me for a minute, her expression going from embarrassed to outraged to disbelieving. “You’re the most conceited person I’ve ever met.”
I shrug.
“And PS? Even if I did think you were hot, I still wouldn’t make out with you. I have a boyfriend, remember?”
“Right. Z.”
“W,” she growls.
I knew that, but I kinda like making her eyes blaze with anger like that. If she’s angry at me, then that means she’s not ignoring me. I don’t like being ignored.
“You’re gonna have to make out with me eventually. It’s part of the deal,” I remind her.
“I have to kiss you. Not make out with you. There’s a difference.”
I laugh. Is that what she tells herself? “Really? Because our lips will be pressed together. My hands will be somewhere on your body. Maybe your ass. In your hair. My tongue’s gonna be in your mouth.”
Her eyes flash again and this time the heat in them isn’t entirely because she’s pissed off. Then again, I could be imagining things.
“I’m good with my tongue, Vaughn.” I smile at her. “You’re gonna find that out soon enough.”
“There will be no tongue,” she sputters. “No one said there would be tongue!”
I can’t help myself. “You never swap spit with ol’ Xylophone? You sure this kid isn’t using you as a beard?”
“Oh, my God. It’s W, which you know, and what I do with W is none of your damned business.” She folds her arms across her chest and stares straight at the blank television screen.
My retort stalls in my throat because her action pushes her tits together in a pretty fantastic way. I wonder if I should tell her that I can now see the white lace of her bra cups peeking over the top of her tank. Nah, what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.
Besides, if she’s going to be a complete asshole, I should get the pleasure of looking at her rack. I leisurely inspect her as I tip the bottle back. Vaughn is about as far from my type as possible. I like them leggy, with big boobs and a lot of hair. She’s got the hair, but she’s kind of on the short side—I’d peg her around five and a half feet—and she doesn’t have a ton going on upstairs, but what she does have is nice to look at.