Anyone But Rich (Anyone But..., #1)

by Penelope Bloom

“Are you trying to tell me to keep my dick in my pants? Because you know I’m very responsible when it comes to my extracurdickular activities.”

“This is insane,” I said quickly. “I’m not the violent pooper, okay? I had to pee, I went in there, and it was already like that. I came here to use a bathroom that wasn’t desecrated, and that’s all I know.” She squeezed my shoulder and gave me a tight-lipped, sympathetic smile. “Of course, sweetie. Just let me know if you need anything, okay? I have some antacids in my room if you need them next time.”

The bastard made eye contact with me while he unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled them up his forearms. He absolutely knew what he was doing. It was the male equivalent of whipping out a little cleavage, and his forearm cleavage was unfortunately superb.

“Who says you need balls to do something brave?” I asked. “Why do testicles get so much credit? What does a shriveled-up, hairy bag have to do with conquering your fears? It’d make just about as much sense as saying, Damn, that took boobs.”

Miranda was basically a superhero, and if she wasn’t my friend, I probably would’ve hated her on principle alone. It wasn’t fair for one person to get so many of the good genes while the rest of us had to make do with second toes that were longer than our big toes and other little misfortunes.

“Liar. I said I was going to show you why some women think foreplay is the best part of sex. And then I’m going to show you why sex is the best part of sex.”

I tried a kind of hip-swaying, finger-snapping movement. It seemed like I wasn’t moving my feet quite as much as everyone else, so I tried mixing in a few little kicks to the side. I let my head get into it, too, tilting it to the right or left as I snapped. I had a sneaking suspicion that the end result was something between Carlton’s dance from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air and Elaine’s from Seinfeld.

I also sucked in my stomach, just a little. He didn’t need to know I was carrying a dairy child that didn’t belong to him.

“By the way, what are the chances you’ll tell me the story behind this violent pooper legend I’ve heard whispers of?”

“You’re being you. Being adorable and thoughtful. And a little reckless. You’re being the girl I couldn’t resist marrying.”