“Because I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“Not Rio either,” he says.
“Because she’s not stupid either.”
“I don’t think a girl has to be stupid in order to have a good time,” he muses, tapping the top of the bottle against his lips. “Rio does seem like a lot of fun. It’s a wonder the two of you are even friends, she’s like sunshine and you’re just this angry red windstorm that knocks down trees sucks the juice out of everything.”
I can’t help but grumble at him. “Rio is way too good for you.” I don’t need to point out if he pursued her enough, she’d probably give in. She does like a good time and she’d probably be the only one in class to not pen an anti-Blake poem. Still, I add, “You stay away from her.”
“Forbidden,” he says with a sharp nod. “I like those ones the best.”
“I’m serious. She’s not your type.”
“You don’t know my type,” he says. “I bet you don’t even know your own.”
What is with this question lately?
I straighten my shoulders, raising my chin an inch. “I know exactly what my type is, what kind of person I need and want.”
“Need,” he repeats, lightly mocking. “Will you listen to that, the All Powerful Oz has just admitted that she needs things from time to time. I thought you’d be entirely self-sufficient.”
“Oh I am,” I shoot back. “You should see my vibrator collection.”
His eyes widen and I refrain from clamping my hand over my mouth. I’ve said too much. Way, way too much.
I clear my throat, looking down at my beer. “Any smart young woman should always have a range of suitable man substitutes.”
“Or you could just get a boyfriend.”
“Not interested.”
“Or a fuckbuddy.”
“Not interested,” I repeat.
“Eating carpet?” He snaps his fingers together. “Rio!”
I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Why does every fucking guy have to assume a girl is a lesbian because she’s single and not sleeping around? I don’t have to explain myself to you; you’re nothing but an alcoholic with a tarantula. Go ahead and think I’m a lesbian if it appeases your ego, I don’t care.”
“Touchy,” he surmises. “It’s okay. I get it. We all have our issues. I think yours is the fact that your eyelids are nearly glued shut.”
I ignore him. “Can we get back to work, because if not, I’m getting a cab back home.”
“All right, we’ll call a truce,” he says, holding out his hand, a sly gleam in his eyes. I don’t trust him at all but I’ll pretend in order to get this done. I shake his hand quickly.
We both sit down on the couch, me beside him this time and try to work through the changes to the chapters. We bounce ideas off of each other and even though I have Susan’s POV, which is as interesting as I want to make it, I can’t help but feel a bit envious over Blake. Not only does he have a phenomenal appreciation for Forrest’s character, but he’s got so much material to work with. His character is heavy, layered and complex and I can see the fever burning in Blake’s eyes as he discusses him, like he’s coming alive in ways I’ve never seen before. If I didn’t hate the guy so much, I think I might be getting a glimpse of the real him—and liking it.
But he still drives me mad and when we’re done for the night, he goes right back to pissing me off.
“Ali,” he says as we head for his door.
“What about her?”
He shrugs. “Not much, but she got to meet Fluffy.”
“Willingly?”
“He escaped. At a…bad…time.”
My skin prickles. I can only imagine. “Well I’m glad you’re telling me this now.” I grab the front door and rip it open, happily stepping into the hall where big hairy spiders aren’t potentially running amok. “No wonder she was so pissed at you in class the other day,” I say under my breath as we get in the elevator.
“Oh, she wasn’t pissed about that,” he says, folding his hands in front of him and staring up at the elevator lights as they go down. “It’s because I didn’t call her when I said I would.”
“Did you ever call her?” I ask.
He gives me a lazy grin in response.
“Once again, pig,” I tell him.
And just like before, the insult doesn’t seem to bother him. “They all know how they stand with me. I tell them from the beginning I’m just looking for a quick shag and nothing else. I can’t help it if they all start planning our futures together the minute I get them to come. Though perhaps I shouldn’t deliver so many orgasms in one session.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble to myself, shaking my head in disbelief as we head to his car.
“I joke about a lot of things, but not about sex.”
Then it’s too bad you don’t take the rest of your life as serious as your sex life, I think as we speed away through the dark streets.
But soon, he won’t be my problem anymore.
There’s some solace in that.
CHAPTER SIX
Blake
“Something on your mind, bro?” Heath asks me, snapping me out of my haze.
Actually it’s not so much as haze as a violent storm cloud that’s kidnapped my brain, prodding it with lightning bolts. The Heart Thief —maybe not the most original title, but it’s stuck —has taken over my life, and I’m pretty sure Amanda’s as well. In fact, I’ve spent the better part of the last two weeks working either with her or by myself on the project, constantly writing and brainstorming, as well as reading as many good books as I can to help my prose along.