Perfect 10

When he came back with their wine, she was wondering why the hell she was in the noisy bar, getting pressed from all sides by purses and bodies angling for more space. Feeling exhausted and suddenly angry, she asked, “So, what did you want to talk about?”

“I don’t want to get into it here. I’m done in half an hour. Can you hang out? We can go to my place.”

Was that a trick question? She searched his face for clues as to what that meant, but he just looked serious. There was no telling if it was a good serious or a bad serious. Taking a sip of her wine to stall, she swallowed and licked her lips. “I’m with Samantha.”

For a second she thought he looked disappointed, but maybe that was a delusion.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m going to grab a cab home soon. I have to work tomorrow.” Samantha gave her a smile. “Have fun.”

“Cool. Okay, let me get back to work.”

Katrina made a face at his retreating back. “What the hell does he want?” she asked Samantha. “I feel super stressed out. I’m sweating.”

But Samantha was looking at her cell screen. “OMG, look at this. I just got sent a suggestion to like a page called Drew’s Magnificent Penis Fan Page.” She showed Katrina the request.

“Oh, shit.” She groaned. “He’s going to kill me.”

“Maybe he started it.”

Now that would be ridiculous. They both burst out laughing.

“I’m sending you this,” Samantha said. “Look at the profile pic. It’s a cartoon penis. This is awesome.”

Katrina studied it, not nearly as amused as Samantha was. But even she had to admit that someone was creative. “The ‘About Me’ section says, ‘Looking for a lady locker to store my valuables. Have a license to kill memories of bad sex.’ Favorite song ‘Up All Night.’ Inspirational quote is ‘To handle yourself, use your head...,’ Eleanor Roosevelt.” Katrina looked up at Samantha. “Oh my God. Who do you think did this?”

“It had to be Jason. That has him written all over it.”

Katrina jumped when a hand slid across her lower back. Turning, prepared to tell off a douchebag, she closed her mouth when she realized it was Drew. “Oh, you scared me.”

“What are you two giggling about? Funny animal pics?”

“No.” Samantha held her phone up for him to see.

Drew’s lips moved and Katrina’s heart sank.

He didn’t look furious. He looked irritated, but not bust-up-furniture angry. “Who the hell did this?”

“I have no idea. It was a suggested page for me.”

Drew pulled out his own phone and he snorted. “Jason is a dick.”

“Ironic choice of slurs,” Samantha said.

Drew shot her a look. “He sent me a text taking credit.” He shook his head. “Let’s head out. And thanks, Trina, for making my Thursday a little more interesting.”

“You’re welcome. I think mine would be classified more as suck than interesting, but glad to be of service.”

Drew waited for them to go in front of him, his hand once again resting on Katrina’s back and staying there the whole way to the front door. She wondered what that was all about, and tried to remember if he had touched her like that BS. Before Sex. She couldn’t think of any time he had, but she felt like a neurotic 420 smoker yelling “What does it mean?” at a double rainbow. She was overthinking the hell out of everything.

Samantha gave her a wink as she hopped in a cab out on the street. Katrina waved, breathing in the warm night air. “God, it’s gorgeous out. It was so hot today.”

“I see the advantage of wearing a skirt,” Drew said as they started down the sidewalk. “I thought I would hate this kilt, but I dig the circulation.”

“It’s a good look for you.”

He smiled at her and something about the look on his face made her suck in a breath.

“Trina, I never meant for us to stop being friends. You know that, right?”

She nodded, a lump lodging in her throat. “Yeah, I know. I didn’t mean for that to happen either. Or I never would have...” But she stopped talking, because she wondered if she had the option of giving back that one night, would she. Because even though she missed Drew’s friendship, the truth was, it had been becoming painful to be around him, knowing her feelings went way beyond friendship. Not knowing how to tell him. At least the sex had kept her from endlessly hoping they could be a couple. That dream had been shattered instantly in the aftermath of sex.

“You never would have had sex with me?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as they walked.

Awkward. “It obviously wasn’t planned, and I know I didn’t handle things well.”

“Sex happens. But it doesn’t mean we should let it ruin our friendship. I miss you.”

Oh, God, oh, God, he missed her and she was going to melt. Just puddle right at his feet. “I’ve missed you, too. I know we can’t go backward, but I want what we had before we got naked.”

“You mean, before my magnificent penis?”

Katrina made a sound of disgust. “You don’t have to sound so smug about it. You should be just a little embarrassed that everyone we know now knows we had sex.”

“Why would I be embarrassed? It’s not like you’re a troll.”

Huh. This conversation was not going the way she’d hoped. “Don’t flatter me so.”

But then he surprised her by taking her hand and pulling her to a stop. He pulled her in close to him. “Hey, come here.”

“What?” She could feel the blush starting in her cheeks again and she wondered when she was finally going to be old enough to stop blushing. It was like acne—it just shouldn’t happen past middle school.

“It was a great night, you have to admit.”

“I think I did. Quite publicly.” It was distracting to be so close to him, his kilt brushing against her, his fingers entwined with hers. But it was good to hear him say he’d enjoyed it, too.

“And you’re beautiful.” He tucked her hair behind her ear.

The love she felt for him, that she’d been attempting to suppress with mixed success, came rushing back to the surface. “Thanks,” she whispered.

“Now can you please tell me why I only got a five out of ten for the good dresser category? That was brutal. I may need therapy.”

Way to ruin the moment. She rolled her eyes. “You have exactly two pairs of jeans and enough plaid to represent every clan in Scotland. I had to ding you somewhere or the app would have recommended I see you again.”

She wasn’t trying to be suggestive. She really wasn’t. But the words just sort of hung in the air between them for a long, painful pause and she refused to be the one to speak first, because she would apologize or embarrass herself by sounding needy.

Finally, Drew said, “But an eight out of ten for kissing? I don’t know. I thought we had a ten going on.”

Interesting. And arousing. Katrina tried to play it cool, which was hard to do when her entire sexual history had been posted online and when he was wearing a kilt. But she gave it her best shot. “You misread. It was definitely listed as a ten.”

“Let’s find out for sure,” he said.

Then he closed the gap between them and kissed her.

Chapter Three

Drew knew full well Trina had listed their kiss as a ten. He’d taken a screenshot of his entry in her little BootyBook post before she’d taken it down. It was a good thing he got alerts on his phone or he might not have seen it before she yanked it, but it had so clearly been a mistake that he’d known it would disappear as soon as she realized it. He’d wanted the opportunity to read what she’d written about him a little more closely.

Which he had. Repeatedly. The kiss had been listed as a ten, but claiming it was only an eight was as good of an excuse as any to get his mouth on hers again. That night, the one and only time he’d been that close to her, he’d been drunk on vodka, and he wanted to repeat the experience sober. See if it was really as amazing as he remembered.

Trina was short, with lush lips, bangin’ curves and soulful dark eyes that widened when she realized what he was about to do. Her mouth drifted open and she went up on her tiptoes. Clearly she wasn’t going to stop him. In fact, her body leaned toward him, and when he dropped his head and covered her lips with his, she gave a little sigh of pleasure that kicked him in the gut and groin.

Damn.

She tasted like wine and willingness and it took him about two seconds to decide he wasn’t going to leave it at a teasing kiss. Not the way she was responding, not the way she felt. He teased his tongue inside to slide across hers, and was forced to grip the back of her head to hold them steady when she rocked against him. A simple kiss became full-on making out, mouths moving eagerly, tongues tangling, breath anxious as they tasted each other. Her fingers squeezed his waist and he realized that, without a shadow of a doubt, the kissing was definitely as hot as he remembered it being.

Vodka hadn’t conned him.

Maybe it was because he knew her so well as a person or maybe it was just the unexplainable randomness of chemistry, but they could write a make-out manual, they were so in tune with each other.

Finally she broke off the kiss, gasping for air, staring up at him as though she wasn’t sure what to say.

“Ten?” he asked, curious what she would say. Hell, maybe she had been still drunk when she’d updated her BootyBook post-sex. Maybe she wasn’t feeling it this time around, and he was projecting his own desire onto her or some such crap like that. Though he would bet his favorite guitar she had. He just wanted to hear her say it.

“I’m not sure your ego needs any more stroking today.”

He could think of something better than his ego he could stroke, but he wasn’t about to push his luck. He’d fucked up last time. He’d rushed off out of her apartment before she’d been awake because he hadn’t known what to say. It had been a dick move. A complete and total dick move that he still couldn’t think back on without mentally wincing.

But he hadn’t expected it to go down the way it had. Hadn’t expected her to be willing to get naked with him. They’d been friends, just friends, for so long, he’d never seen it coming. He’d always known he wasn’t good enough for her, the struggling sometimes-musician, mostly bartender, and it had felt wrong to take advantage of her drunkenness. But he’d done it anyway.

It had ruined their friendship. She’d been weird, he’d been embarrassed and plagued with guilt. Unable to see her without picturing her naked and fantasizing about his cock buried inside her. So there it went. A four-year friendship straight down the crapper because he couldn’t keep it in his jeans when slinging back vodka. So lame. Utterly asshole lame.

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