Tell Me It's Real (At First Sight, #1)

by T.J. Klune

I decided that I could easily get pecs and abs, so I went to a gym not far from my house, intending to sign up with a personal trainer who would let my outer beauty shine through. On the way there, I got distracted by the fact that a Dunkin’ Donuts had opened up right down the road from my house and they were giving away free donuts. It was as if God himself saw that my intention was to make my outer self match my inner fabulosity and didn’t think the world could handle such an explosion of amazingness. So instead of letting me get to the gym where I would have transformed myself into a walking sex god, he created a Dunkin’ Donuts out of nothing and then gave them away for free. I didn’t make it to the gym. I had a bear claw instead. And a maple bar. And some donut holes. And then some more donut holes.

Helena gave a very unladylike snort. “Yeah, I remember when you thought the Dom/sub route was going to be your next big thing. That leather daddy bent you over his knee to give you your first spanking, and you tried to lecture him with statistics on domestic abuse in Arizona.” I scowled. “It’s not my fault he misinterpreted my intentions. I just wanted to get tied up for a bit. How was I to know he was going to go all hard core the first time around?”

He looked at me knowingly, but didn’t call me out on it. “Well, you know what they say. When life hands you lemons—” “You’ll slice them to make lemonade, only to find you have miniscule little cuts on your hands and it causes it to sting really bad,” I finished for him. “Oh, and lemon juice squirts in your eye and blinds you for like twenty minutes.” “You’re like that donkey from Winnie the Pooh,” he told me. “On crack.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But you do. And you will.” And then, before I could stop him, he pulled me forward into a tight hug, my chin pressed against his shoulder, his lips near my ear. It was so unfair how fucking good he smelled. My stomach flip-flopped a little as he whispered in my ear. “You may as well just say yes. I saved your life, and that means you belong to me now. I’m totally going to Freddie Prinze Junior you so hard later.” Then he let me go and walked toward the door. “That’s not what that means!” I shouted after him, causing people to stare at me like I was the ridiculous one. “You don’t get to make it sound dirty and hot!” He didn’t even look back.

The coffee was gurgling as I finished getting dressed, and I let Wheels back in the house. I poured the coffee in my travel mug, grabbed a granola bar (don’t worry, it was one of those ones that are supposed to be healthy, but is really just covered in chocolate), and went out to face the day. On my way to work, I sang along to Kelly Clarkson’s “Miss Independent,” completely agreeing with the music’s timeless lesson, even if I looked like a raging fruit as I danced in my car. “That’s right!” I shouted at the traffic light, waiting for it to change to green. “I don’t need no fuckin’ man tellin’ me what to do!” I forgot that my window was down until the woman in the car next to me shouted back, “Me either! Don’t need no fuckin’ man!”

Okay, that totally ruined the moment, but it made me well aware that I was eye-raping him, which was then made all the more worse when I realized the bicyclist was Vince. I blushed furiously and tried to walk away, but it was like one of my feet was glued to the ground, because I could take one step, but I couldn’t move any further. I was looking everywhere but at him, trying to focus on things like the big tree in the courtyard and the blue sky above and that cloud that looked like a penis going into a butt…. “Oh God,” I moaned. “Not a sex cloud! Why would you do that to me!” Vince got a funny look on his face as he looked up into the sky, taking off his sunglasses. “What’s a sex cloud?”

Biker Vince nodded, eyes glinting. “Except….” He bit his bottom lip, then let it go. “Except for me. I use them.” He took another step, until his chest brushed against mine. He leaned in and I could feel his breath on my face and my lips parted and— “Kelly Clarkson,” I said. He stopped, mere inches from my face. “What?” he asked, that adorable look of confusion on his face yet again. “Don’t need no man,” I whispered. “She told me to be independent.” Must… resist… bike shorts…. “Who’s Kelly Clarkson?” he asked, leaning back a little and frowning. “Is she a friend of yours? If you want, I can talk to her for you. Put her at ease.” “Nocturnal emissions are wet dreams!” I shouted at him and then ran around him and back up the stairs. I tripped, but that’s cool. I meant to do it because it added more drama to my exit. I didn’t look back.

So without looking, I opened my car door. And it was about that time that Vince Taylor was riding his bike past my car. Physics teaches us that when a moving force meets an immovable object, bad shit happens to hot people. I think Sir Isaac Newton said that. Or Sir Elton John. I don’t know. I get my “Sirs” confused sometimes.

“Paul?” “Yeah?” “Don’t take this the wrong way.” I tried not to flinch. Here it comes. Vince sighed. “I think I’m going to fall in love with you.” He made it sound as if it was inevitable. And wonderful.

“You’re like a dirty Dr. Seuss.” “I’ll do you on the grass. I’ll do you during mass.” “No thanks. I think I’ll take a pass.” Dammit! Stop rhyming! He snorted. “You just want a piece of my ass.” “Wow. That’s thirty seconds of my life I’ll never get back.” “Your fault.” “Don’t even try to blame that one on me.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you should be on medication,” Charlie said. “It can’t be healthy to have you thinking all by yourself without some kind of pharmaceutical intervention.”

“Kiss! Kiss him!” Nana screamed. “Kiss his face off!” Everyone else picked it up and started chanting for him to kiss my face off. It was a little weird. I felt like a goat was about to be sacrificed to a pagan god. I grinned at him as I backed away a few feet. Vince stalked toward me. “I’m going to kiss the fuck out of you,” he said as he reached for me, the crowd roaring up at us. “Lucky me,” I managed to say before I had a mouthful of Vince. Lucky me.