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His tone becomes thoughtful. “So you have a talent for reading people, huh? Can you read me?” I smile. “I haven’t quite figured you out yet.”
His husky laughter warms my cheek. “I haven’t quite figured me out yet either.”
Oh God, you really are a virgin, huh? Ass play can be a lot of fun.”
what the hell?????
Ramona is my best friend, and I’ve
known her since we were six years old.
Grace yanks me into her dark bedroom and kisses me, and if my mouth was closed, then how is her tongue supposed to get inside it? The kiss is completely unexpected and hotter than anything I’ve ever experienced in my life.
“This entire time, I thought you were looking at me all longing-like. But you were looking at us.” She laughs again. “And all those things you listed right now, they’re things Garrett and I do together. Dude, you don’t want me. You want me and Garrett.”
You want the connection and the closeness and all the gooey relationship stuff.”
Am I the last person you think about when you go to bed and the first one you think about when you wake up?” I don’t answer. “Am I?” she pushes. “No.” My voice comes out hoarse. “You’re not.” Fucking hell. She might be right. All this time I’ve been feeling guilty about wanting my best friend’s girl, but I think what I really wanted was my best friend’s relationship. Someone to spend time with. Someone who turns me on and makes me laugh. Someone who makes me…happy. Like Grace?
Which means I’m Sophomore Grace now. Freshman Grace, God rest her soul, let her best friend make decisions for her and guys walk all over her, but Sophomore Grace? She will do no such thing. She will not be Ramona’s doormat or Logan’s distraction.
Either way, a new year equals a new me.
At the moment, new/old me is making the bed in my new dorm room and desperately hoping that my roommate won’t be a bitch, a psycho, or a psycho-bitch.
an unwelcome pang of sorrow.
I plan on incorporating Mom’s advice into my Sophomore Plan, which involves having fun, making new friends, and going out on dates. Oh, and not thinking about John Logan.
I ran into him at the park last week, I haven’t been able to get him off my mind.
Besides, I’m Sophomore Grace now.
Besides, I wanted to make new friends, right? Might as well start now.
“You know who else had natural charm?” I retort. “Ted Bundy.” Dean dons a blank look. “Who?” “The serial killer.” Oh Jesus, I’ve jumped on the Bundy bandwagon. I’m turning into Grace.
I want another chance. I want to show her I’m not some heartless asshole who was just using her for a little B&B, but I have no idea how to change her mind.
A real friend doesn’t proposition the guy who hurt her best
friend.
Sophomore Grace is going to fly all over the place.
I’ll be working on an advice show hosted by a frat boy/sorority girl team who I’ve been warned are “dumb as posts.” Daisy’s words, not mine.
Morris guy seems pretty fucking cool.
he’s ridiculously...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Logan and his buddies approach the order counter, and every gaze in the coffeehouse hangs on their every move. Something about these guys changes the air in the room on a molecular level. They’re larger than life, and not just because they’re all tall, strapping hockey players. It’s the confidence with which they walk,
God, this guy is incorrigible. And too damn gorgeous for his own good.
he’s also rocking a retro fashion sense I find sexy as hell. Part hipster, part newsie, part punk, part—I could go on forever, actually. There’s a little bit of everything in the guy’s style.
suits his quirky personality, though.
but every time I consider it, a part of me raises a protest and encourages me to go out with Logan instead.
He’s got the most interesting appearance. Tan skin, jet black hair, golden brown eyes. I honestly have no idea what his background is. Asian maybe? Mixed with…no clue. Like his fashion style, his features are a collection of unique elements that I find incredibly attractive.
My family is like the United frickin’ Nations. My mother was born in Zambia—her mom was Black, her dad was a white doctor who ran a clinic there. And my father is half-Japanese, half-Italian.”
Grace on a date at a frat party. It does sound kinda farfetched,
Fat Ted, by the way? Not fat. Sometimes I really don’t understand nicknames.
“I’m not sure. We don’t know each other very well, but everything I do know about you, I like. And everything I don’t know, I want to find out.”
“Bros before hos, dude.” “Call my girlfriend a ho one more time and you won’t have a bro.”
Can’t wait to see your collage. Me: How do you feel about glitter? And dick pics? Her: If there’s a pic of your dick on that collage, I’m photocopying it and passing it around in the student center. Me: Bad idea. You’ll give all the other dudes an inferiority complex. Her: Or an ego boost.
Did I mention he’s wearing a suit?
He looks spectacular in a suit.
all I heard was rumor after rumor about John Logan. He sleeps around, he’s a great lay, he doesn’t do relationships. So what the heck is he doing dating me? And by dating, I mean dating. We haven’t even had sex yet, for God’s sake.
Christ. This can’t be happening. I’m in the Garden of fucking Eden, salivating over that goddamn apple.
I won’t go as far as to say she’s mine, but…well, she’s mine. Mine to hold and mine to kiss and mine to laugh with. Yup, mine.
I swallow a laugh. “Josie. I’m Logan.” Another gasp. “The Logan?”
reach several conclusions. One, I’ve never had more fun with a girl in my entire life. Two, I never want this to end. And three… I think I might be falling in love with her.
“So John Logan is the jealous type. Honestly? Not a shocker. Hockey players are wired with aggression. They’re these big alpha dudes, going all caveman when someone tries to steal the puck from them.” “Am I the puck in this scenario?”
When he speaks, his voice is so raspy it sends a shiver through me. “Do you want to go upstairs?”
He’s not wearing boxers. His erection juts out, hard and imposing,
We land on the bed with a thud that makes us laugh.
He’s pretty much a sexpert. What if I suck at sex?
I did this to him. I made him curse and groan and wobble as if the world beneath his feet had vanished. I made him come apart. And he did the same damn thing to me.
