Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“Do you usually practice ‘complete honesty’ with guys before you’ll even kiss them?” I ask.
“No. I can’t remember ever practicing ‘complete honesty’ with a guy, period,” she replies. “Have you ever practiced complete honesty with a woman?”
“Complete?”
“Yeah.”
“No. I came very close once. It didn’t work out very well.”
She twists her mouth.
“But enough about that.” I drain my drink. “I don’t negotiate with terrorists, like I said. So make your unreasonable demands all night long if you want—you’re not getting what you want.”
She exhales. “I tell you what. Just tell me what your stupid application says—and we’ll call it a day. Tell me and then kiss me and then... who knows what might happen next?” She looks at me suggestively.
“Nope.”
Her pucker turns to a pout.
“I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”
“So you keep saying.”
“You don’t even care about my stupid application. You’re just trying to win.”
“I could say the same thing about you. At least I’m being reasonable.”
“You’re being reasonable?”
“Yes. I backed down from my original demand and said you could just tell me what’s in it. And I’ve offered to answer any questions honestly tonight. But you? You’re just sticking to your guns, not budging an inch.”
“All right. Show me how it’s done.” I lean forward, my eyes blazing. “Play the honesty-game.”
“Fine. Ask me anything.”
“Admit Cameron Fucking Schulz bored you to fucking tears.”
She twists her mouth—and then she nods.
I laugh. “I knew it.”
“I went back into the restaurant after we talked and after two minutes with the guy I wanted to gouge my eyes out.”
“Hey, maybe I like this honesty-game, after all.” I chuckle. “So how’d he take it when you turned him down?” I ask, picking up my drink gleefully.
I’m expecting her to laugh with me or at least break into a wide smile. But she doesn’t. Instead, she furrows her brow, takes a long sip of her drink, and levels me with an unflinching gaze. “I didn’t turn him down.”
Fourteen
Josh
She continues staring at me, her blue eyes sparkling with defiance.
“You fucked Cameron Schulz?” I blurt.
Her cheeks flush. “Back at his place.” She maintains my gaze, her eyes blazing. “He has a very nice house, bee tee dubs. Just what you’d expect of a professional baseball player.”
I don’t know whether to cry or scream. Or charter an airplane to Seattle and kick Cameron Fucking Schulz’s ass. Oh my fucking God. I glance around the bar, my heart racing, clenching and unclenching my fists.
She fishes a crunchie thing out of the bowl in front of us and pops it into her mouth. “And I’m not sorry or ashamed about it. He was sweet and I got to check off one of my fantasies. (I’m big on fantasies, bee tee dubs. It’s kinda my thing.) So, yeah, I count the entire experience as a win-win.”
I open and shut my mouth like a fish on a line.
“News flash, Playboy. Not all sex has to be deep and meaningful. Even for the members of the species with vaginas.”
I’m still speechless.
She drains her drink.
“What fantasy did you get to check off?” I finally say. Oh my God, I feel physically ill just saying the words.
“Well, gosh, that’s kind of a personal question.” She laughs. “But since we’re being completely honest and all, I’ll tell you. One of my all-time fantasies has always been to have sex with a professional athlete—though admittedly, in a manner much more exciting than it went down with Cameron.” She pops another crunchie into her mouth. “I slept with a guy on the football team in college who was drafted by the Lions his senior year, but he went pro after I slept with him so I don’t think that counts as having sex with a pro athlete. Do you think it does?” She pops another crunchie thing into her mouth and washes it down with her martini.
I press my lips together, incapable of saying a goddamned thing. I’m feeling a strange mixture of arousal and rage and complete repulsion.
“Oh, please,” she finally says. “You think sex always has to be something deep and meaningful and profound? Pffft.”
I make a face.
“Well, then. Why should it be any different for me? Just because I have a vagina?”
I lean back in my chair. “So you say. I’m not sure I believe it.”
She laughs.
“Just tell me right now, Kat. Do you really have a vagina? Because I swear to fucking God, if you’re hiding a dick and balls under there, I’m gonna lose my fucking shit.”
She laughs. “I’m not a dude. I promise.”
“Because you’re acting like a dude right now.”
“Nope. Rest assured, I do indeed have a vagina and ovaries and fallopian tubes. Oh, and boobs, too, which I’ve been told multiple times are ‘absolutely perfect,’ bee tee dubs. But I can certainly understand your confusion about my genitalia, because I’m actually an honorary dude, probably from growing up with four brothers and all.”