“Yeah,” I say, shoving my book away, where it falls on the floor with a clunk. I didn’t mean to be that enthusiastic, but it just kind of happened.
It’s not like I’m not already ahead on my homework.
Jett and I spend the next hour going through more of Queen’s greatest hits while he teaches me to fold paper cranes. It’s an odd combination of things, but somehow they all make sense.
It takes me about twelve tries to get it right, and I ruin quite a few pieces of paper. And my crane’s head is a little wonky in comparison to its tail, but at least it’s bird-shaped.
I yawn, even though I’m wide awake.
“Are you tired?” Jett says, arranging our little family of cranes on the table. So much for homework.
“No, but I’m definitely hungry. Should we make some more insane nachos?”
He smiles and stands, holding his hands out to pull me up. Wow. Strong. Deceptively strong. I mean, he’s not a walking ad for steroids like Javier, but he’s definitely not a wimp. In fact, he’s so strong that it pulls me off balance and I smash into his chest. He catches me of course, because he’s graceful and I am not. I used to be. I definitely fell a lot less before I met him.
He holds me, pressed against his chest, our hands between us. Totally squished into my boobs. Jett has had more contact with my boobs than even my doctor. To be fair, they do kind of get in the way. They’re a little hard to avoid if you’re near me. No joke, I’ve actually smacked people in the face with them.
Because they have a mind of their own, my n**ples harden under my shirt and I take a step back so Jett can’t feel them. Nipples are a bit like the female equivalent of getting a boner. Only on a smaller scale. Still, it’s embarrassing when you’re flashing your headlights for everyone to see.
Jett’s hands are still linked with mine and he leads me into the kitchen.
“Nachos?” he says.
“Nachos,” I agree.
This time the nachos have leftover steak, more Velveeta (I really need to buy that boy some actual cheese) jalapenos, cilantro, olives, some pearl onions, and I cave and let him add the hot dog pieces.
“We should open a restaurant where it’s just nachos. We could do breakfast nachos and desert nachos. It would be a hit,” he says, taking a huge bite after the thing has melted in the oven. I wipe some cheese from his chin and stick my finger in my mouth. It feels like a natural thing to do now. Then I grab a chip that’s loaded with the mess of ingredients and pop it in my mouth.
Wow, what a . . . cacophony of flavor. I chew and try to figure out if I like it or not. It takes a while to get used to the texture and the taste because it’s such a shock.
“The other ones were better,” Jett says, taking some more and shoving them in his mouth.
“Bummer.” I go for another mouthful and I decide that I like them. I mean, they’re not my favorite thing in the world, but they’re pretty good.
“How would do you desert nachos?”
“If you could figure out how to maybe make pie crust into chips, then you could have chocolate and whipped cream and so forth. And you could do fruit nachos.”
“That would be really great for the obesity epidemic in this country,” I say, raining on Jett’s nacho parade.
“You’re no fun,” Jett says, cramming about five chips in his mouth at one time. I have to admit that’s impressive. I take one, since I don’t think it would be very sexy to cram my mouth with chips and everything else.
“Hold still,” Jett says and I freeze. With one hand, he holds my chin steady as he brings his face forward. I would ask what he’s doing, but I’ve sort of lost the ability to speak. Or breathe. Is my heart still beating?
Ever so slowly, millimeter by millimeter, Jett brings his face closer to mine. His tongue reaches out as well and licks something from my face.
And I’m dead. He puts his tongue back in his mouth and smiles at me.
“You had some cheese on your face,” he says in a quiet voice that stirs something deep inside me and makes tingles break out all over my skin.
My mouth goes dry and I try to swallow, but it seems that my body is unable to move at the moment. If someone busted into the apartment with a gun, I doubt I would move from my present position.
Jett finally lets go of my chin, and my skin burns with the memory of his touch. He moves back and grabs some more chips from the plate.
I’m still trying to unstick my body from being stuck. Finally my lungs expand and I take a shaky breath.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, and stumble for the bathroom. I just . . . need some air.
I lock the door and take a deep breath. Jett must have cleaned recently, because it smells lemony fresh. There’s a tiny window next to the shower, so I push it open. Or at least I try to. It only opens about an inch and then gets stuck. Oh well. I lean down and rest my face on the windowsill, inhaling some of the sharp outdoor air. Even though it’s spring, the air still has a winter bite to it at night, and it’s just what I need to clear my head. After several deep breaths, I think I have myself back together.
Jett licked my face. I never thought someone licking my face would be anything but nasty, but Jett turned everything sexy. Like he was a wizard and could transform anything and sexify it. Wizard of Sexy. With his magic . . . wand.
Thinking about Jett’s magic wand causes me to start giggling and I have to turn the water on in the sink just so he won’t hear me.
I think I’m losing it.
I try to pull myself together. Before I leave the bathroom, I double check my face to make sure there isn’t any more cheese on it. I’m good, but I look like I’m on crack. My eyes are all wide and crazy and my face is flushed. My hair is also looking really special. I comb my fingers through it and grab the hair elastic that I always have around my wrist and pull my hair back into a low ponytail. There’s not much I can do about the crazy eyes and the flushed face. Hopefully Jett thinks they’re cute.
When I get back out into the kitchen, the nachos are almost all gone. Jett must have inhaled them. Where does it all go? He must have the metabolism of a supermodel. Damn him.
“I saved you some,” he says, holding out the pan where there are three small, sad chips lying there with barely any toppings. But his face is so sweet, and it’s a real struggle to make my face angry and glare at him.
“New Rule: No eating of all the nachos while your Fake Girlfriend is in the bathroom.”
“You’re putting addendums on the Rules now?” I almost giggled at the word ‘addendum’. For some reason it always made my mind go to the gutter.
“The unwritten Rule of the Rules is that the Fake Girlfriend can add things on when she wants.” I shove the last of the chips in my mouth.
Jett sputters, but I grin with my mouth full, chew and then swallow.
“The other unwritten Rule of the Rules is that the Fake Girlfriend is always right,” I add. It’s Jett’s turn to glare, but he can’t keep it up for long and ends up shaking his head instead.
“Okay, Fake Girlfriend. I’m going to take a shower and get ready for bed, if you don’t mind. I’ve got my bed all set up for you, so if you want to go in and get comfortable, you can.” What? I made him sleep on the floor, and I am fully fine with doing the same. Anything but his couch.
I start trying to protest, but Jett puts one finger on my lips and that shuts me up real quick.
“Unwritten Rule Three is that the Fake Boyfriend will never make the Fake Girlfriend sleep on the floor when she’s at his house, and there will be no arguing from the Fake Girlfriend about it. She will nod and agree and let him go take a shower.” The whole time he’s talking, he keeps his hand on my mouth, and my lips are all burny and tingly. His skin is so nice. Not too soft, but not all calloused and nasty like so many other guys. I swear, if a guy touched me and his hands were dirty, and his nails all chewed and broken down to stubs, and they had dead skin bits hanging off them, I’d probably run away screaming. Jett has nice hands. In addition to all his other bits.
“Okay,” I say against his finger and he uses his finger to make my head nod up and down.
“Good enough.” He leaves me in the kitchen and a few seconds later the shower turns on. That boy. I swear.
Chapter 10
Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting on Jett’s bed in my pajamas and freaking out. I know he’s taking one for Team Fake Relationship by sleeping on the grungy couch, but I still feel shitty about it. Maybe this is to make up for taking all the nachos. Guess there’s a give and take even in Fake Dating.
I’m twiddling my thumbs, waiting for Jett to come back from the shower and then the door opens. I freeze, not sure if I should dive under the couch, or scream, or run away.
I do none of the above.
“You again,” Javier says. He looks tired, but actually sober. Not that I know him enough to know the difference, but it’s pretty easy to see that he’s not falling down drunk like last time.
“Me again,” I say as Jett walks out of the bathroom, a tank top covering his chest, and a towel around his waist.
“If you want—” he starts, but doesn’t finish when he sees Javier.
“What are you doing here?” Jett looks like he’s just walked into the room and found a dead body on the floor. I’m not quite as horrified as he is, but it’s definitely not the ideal situation. Hopefully he’s just going to be in and out.
“Apparently, I live here. Or at least that’s what I’ve been led to believe. Wait, is this some sort of conspiracy? Are you a robot? Am I a robot? IS THIS EVEN REAL?” Javier’s eyes go wide and he looks from me to Jett and back, as if we’re going to attack him.
Jett is first to recover. He picks up a pillow from the couch and flings it at Javier who ducks to get away from it.
“Asshole,” Jett says.
“What? You can never be too careful. I, for one, will welcome our robot overlords and serve them with all of my heart and soul.”
Is this Javier sober? Because he kind of seems drunk.
“Once again, I’m sorry. There is no excuse for him,” Jett says, raking his wet hair back out of his face. It keeps flopping attractively in his eyes. If Javier weren’t here, I would have gotten up and run my hands through it. Or maybe not. I might not be daring enough to do that. But in my mind, I’m that daring.
“Just came to change my clothes. Relax. It doesn’t look like I was interrupting anything anyway. Dude, why are you wearing a shirt? It’s weird.”
It is a little weird. Jet’s shirt is wet from his skin and almost see-through. Totally pointless. Plus, I really wanna see him shirtless. RIGHT NOW.
“Why don’t you mind your own f**king business and get the hell out?” Ooohh, Jett is mad. I can’t tell if it’s fake, but it looks pretty real. Javier just shakes his head and goes to his room, bangs around for a minute and then comes back out, in a pair of new pants and a new shirt.
“Madam, Sir. I hope you have a splendid and sex-filled evening. I’m off to have one myself. May all your condoms be resilient and hole-free. Farewell!” He salutes us and then leaves.