The Learning Hours (How to Date a Douchebag, #3)

by Sara Ney

A bright flash of red across the room catches my eye, and whatever curse graces the tip of my tongue dies in my throat. There she is, standing in a corner with her friends, laughing. Head thrown back, long pale neck exposed. Long red hair the color of fucking fire. Flawless white skin. Dark burgundy lips. Tall. She’s not Alex, but she’s beautiful. No, not beautiful. Elle est mieux. She’s better. More. Stunning. Jesus, is she human? She’s gorgeous and I need to shut the fuck up about it already.

I have nothing to say to that because I don’t believe her. She’s just a beautiful, spoiled girl who wants to have her way, and I can’t believe I’m still standing here listening to her whine. I’m surprised she hasn’t brought on the waterworks. She seems like the type.

How straight his teeth are, how white. He actually has really nice, beautifully shaped lips.

“J’ai peur de t’aimer.” I’m afraid to let myself like you. Behind a cloak of ambiguity, knowing she couldn’t possibly understand, I whisper the words I’d only reserved for myself. “Je te désire tellement.” I want you so bad.

God, I like him so much. Drown in his goodness. His kind spirit and pure heart. The romance of his second language. Sweet brown eyes and beautiful smile.

God, how could I have ever thought he wasn’t attractive when now, he’s the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen? It breaks my vain heart knowing how I acted—like an asshole. I’m not out of his league; he’s out of mine.

Whether he knows it or not, I’m completely in love with this guy. Head over heels, instalove, enamored—whatever you want to call it.

My body is not my own. My soul? His.