Sweet (True Believers #2)(28)
Author: Erin McCarthy

A second later he realized I had tricked him. “Jessica! Damn it!” His fist hit the door.

I smiled. I couldn’t help it. It was entertaining to get the best of him. “Yes?”

Then he did something that I wasn’t prepared for. He said, “Please open the door. I really would like the chance to apologize to you face-to-face.”

Crap. How could I continue being petty if he was going to be reasonable? It was a surefire way to ruin my ability to snark. With a sigh, I went to the door yet again and pulled it open. “Yes?” I asked, leaning on the door. “I’m very busy reading about sexy summer hairstyles.”

He gave me a sly smile. “You have sexy summer hair.” His fingers reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear.

Seducing me was not going to work. Well, it was working a little, but he still had some explaining to do. I just gave him a stony stare.

Riley dropped his hand. “I’m sorry about the comment I made. I didn’t mean to suggest that you . . . well, anyway, I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

“Yes, you were.” Then because I didn’t hold grudges, I said, “Apology accepted.”

He nodded. “Thanks.” Then he looked at his hand. And the floor. And behind my shoulder.

I waited, curious what brilliance was going to come out of his mouth next.

“I said that, not because I think you’re a slut, but because well, I was upset that you had sex with my brother.”

My eyebrows raised and I crossed my arms over my chest, the glossy fashion magazine still in my hands. “I caught on to that, yes.”

“But you don’t get it, do you?” he asked.

“No, not really.”

“Think of this way. What if I told you I had sex with your sister?”

“I don’t have a sister.”

He made a sound of impatience. “You know what I mean. Okay, say that you found out today when we were fooling around that I had sex with Kylie last year. How would you feel about that?”

A stab of jealousy pierced my chest and I asked, before I could stop myself, “Did you?”

“Ha, exactly,” he said in triumph. “No, I did not have sex with Kylie, but your first reaction was one of anger. You didn’t want to think that I did, because the truth is, none of us want to think that someone we care about has been naked with someone we’re attracted to. Picture me with Kylie. How does it make you feel?”

I had an active imagination. Before I could put the brakes on it, an image of Riley over my roommate rose in my brain. He was enthusiastically giving her o**l s*x. It was a visual I could have done without. “Okay, I get it. Yes, I would be upset. Pissed.”

“It just really caught me off guard,” he said. “And the whole penis piercing thing . . .” He actually shuddered. “Disgusting. It’s all messing with my head, making me jealous.”

Begrudgingly, I loosened the death grip on my magazine. “Fine. But you took it a step too far. You didn’t say the word ‘slut,’ but you definitely implied it loud and clear. I mean, sloppy? Ouch.” I wanted him to understand where I was coming from. “I don’t need to be judged, Riley. I’ve had my parents judging my morality my whole life and I don’t have the patience for it.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. I was being an ass**le. But I don’t get it. Why would you and Tyler have sex? It’s not like you ever had feelings for each other.” Then he grimaced. “Or did you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “The thing is, a lot of guys and girls are attracted to each other on some level. But that’s not the same as being attracted to them, if you know what I mean.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said flatly.

Maybe I didn’t either. I tried to explain it, frustrated by the frustration on his face. “It’s not about emotional feelings. It’s about physical feelings.”

That I had to explain that to a guy just seemed stupid. It felt like he was purposely not understanding me. Guys were all about the booty call. But maybe what was so difficult for him to comprehend was that a girl could regard that in the same way a guy did. They were used to girls being clingers, assuming sex equaled a relationship.

“So you just get your clit licked and it’s all good?” he asked dryly.

Bingo. Though I could do without the disdain on his part. I didn’t know a guy alive who didn’t like to get head, given that they all asked for it and were shocked and horrified when I refused.

“Why is that so hard for you to grasp? Guys hook up with girls all the time and they don’t care about them at all. Maybe, and I know it’s hard to believe, but maybe sometimes girls do the same thing. Gasp. Horror. Maybe, just maybe, girls like to get off, too, for no reason other than that it feels good.” I opened my magazine and started pointing to random chicks on random pages. “I bet she likes to have orgasms. I bet she does, too. And I bet this one, I bet she even masturbates.” I lowered my voice. “Can you believe it?”

He made a sound of impatience and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not saying girls don’t have sexual feelings. I’m glad they do. I appreciate enthusiasm. But I guess to me it makes sense to either be with someone you’re in a relationship with or to be with a one-night stand. I don’t get this crossing-the-line-with-friends thing. How do you keep it separate? It seems to me like you’re just sticking your finger places it shouldn’t be stuck.”

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling sad. He didn’t get it. And if he didn’t get it, did he get me? And why did it matter that he got me? Other than that I didn’t want to be put in that category of women that men didn’t respect. Because I didn’t deserve that. “Maybe to me it makes more sense to be physically intimate with a friend, someone who knows you and cares about you, that you trust, than to have sex with a total stranger you’ve met in a bar.”

He nodded, but he didn’t say anything, his brow furrowed.

“So what were we doing here, Riley?” I asked, the fight gone from me, a heavy sense of disappointment falling over me, a blanket of negative emotion. “It’s hard to classify me as a one-night stand given that I’m living in your house.”

“Oh, I don’t do one-night stands,” he said, and his arms dropped to his sides.

Something about the way he was looking at me . . . I felt my heart rate kick up a notch. “No?”