Rules of Attraction (Perfect Chemistry, #2)

by Simone Elkeles

Don’t trust someone you meet in the waiting room at your therapist’s office.”

I flip onto my stomach and sit up on my elbows. “It was speech therapy. And he just drove his brother for sessions.”

“My brother can be tough to deal with.” My lips turn into a wide grin, because as Tuck pointed out . . . “I love a good challenge.”

Listen, I didn’t ask for a face and body girls find attractive. But thanks to the mixture of my parents’ DNA, I’ve got them, and I’m not ashamed to use ’em. Having a face Adonis would admire is one of the few advantages I’ve been given in life, and I use it to its fullest potential whether it’s for good or evil.

Brandon turns to my dad with big, innocent eyes. “Daddy, do you know how to do the horizontal tango?”

“Wanna bet?” I step forward, invading her personal space so she’ll back up and know I mean business. “Don’t piss me off, bitch. In Mexico I was hangin’ with gangbangers.” She doesn’t back down. Instead, she says, “My boyfriend was in a gang, Carlos. And neither of you scare me.”

Instead of cowering in fear or getting furious, she steps forward and kisses my cheek. “I forgive you,” she says, then backs out of the room and leaves me alone.

My man? As I watch Brandon trot back to his room, I wonder if I just outwitted the kid or if he just outwitted me.

isn’t workin’. Time to change tactics. “Want to make out?” “With who?” she asks, not bothering to look up. “Me.” She lifts her head from her book just long enough to give me a once-over. “No, thanks,” she says, then goes back to her homework. She’s fuckin’ with me. She’s got to be fuckin’ with me, right? “Because of that pendejo Tuck?” “No. Because I don’t want Madison’s leftovers.” Wait. Un. Momento. I’ve been called a lot of things before, but . . . “You callin’ me leftovers?”

“Bottom line, huh?” Westford leans back in his chair, those wheels in his brain working overtime. The chair tips so far back he has to quickly grab on to his desk so he doesn’t tumble backward. The Professor is hard-core, all right. All the way down to his designer penny loafers.