Page 15 of Personal Foul
“We have to sell the bit, remember? If you’re my girlfriend, I should kiss you goodbye. I figured you’d rather I just make it look like that, instead of actually kissing you.” See? I can be a gentleman. If I were as big of an asshole as she thinks, I’d just kiss her for real, her feelings be damned.
Her eyes move back and forth, examining mine. When she doesn’t say anything, I move in close and kiss her on the cheek. Just a quick touch of my lips to her skin, but it makes her gasp.
And fuck me, I like the sound of her gasp. I wish I could hear it more.
Not allowing myself to dwell on that, I straighten. “Later.” And then I head back to Andrew and Liam.
They’re chortling and smacking me like we’re in middle school and I just got the hottest girl in our grade to give me her phone number.
“You guys are idiots,” I tell them, heading to get my chicken sandwich. I’m getting hangry, and I need food now.
And I’m not going to admit that my irritation is more likely because I’m annoyed that Charity was more resistant to my charm than anyone else. That it bothers me that she seemed to object so much to even my pretense of kissing her. And she didn’t even acknowledge that I called her by her real name.
Maybe we’ll have to have a talk about how we’re supposed to act with each other when she comes over to clean later. If we’re going to sell this dating thing, she’s gotta act like she’s not disgusted by me in front of other people.
And I’ll pretend the fact that she has to bury her disgust doesn’t sting.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Charity
Trepidation dogs my steps as I approach Dylan’s apartment.
I was so pissed that he alluded to the fact that I’d be over later today when he disrupted my morning study session in the student center. I guess some part of me hoped that if I were pretending to be his girlfriend, he’d let me off the hook for cleaning his apartment.
Stupid of me, really.
Why would he let me off the hook? After all, he made it clear that he doesn’t need to blackmail anyone for sex. I’m sure that goes for having a girlfriend too. So if he’s pretending we’re dating, that’s entirely for my benefit, because us dating is the only plausible explanation for why I was in his apartment wearing that ridiculous outfit.
That or blackmail. And we both know I don’t want him telling the truth about the blackmail.
Soof courseI’ll still be cleaning his place. We’re notreallydating anyway.
He’s the absolutelastperson I’d willingly go out with.
Right? Right.
I’m just going to ignore the way that kiss on the cheek sent a shock of desire through my system. I don’t want Dylan. I can’t imagine myselfeverwanting Dylan. It’s just been a while since anyone’s kissed me. It’s just hormones. That’s all.
Pushing aside my discombobulated feelings that I’m covering with irritation, I knock on his door and brush past him as soon as he opens it, ignoring the way his plain white T-shirt clings to his muscular chest and shoulders, or the way his pants hang low on his hips. I’m not here to dither. And I’mdefinitelynot here to check out my blackmailer. Why do I want to check him out at all anyway? It’s not like I’ve never seen a hot guy before. There are plenty all over campus, and I don’t ogle them when I pass by.
Regardless, I’m here to get shit done and get out. I have homework and friends and far better things to do than spend any extra time with Dylan Thompson. In fact, just about anything would be better than spending more time with him.
He seems to have other ideas, though. Before I can reach the bathroom to change, he catches up to me, stopping me with a hand on my arm and sending a zap of electricity up my arm that makes my little hairs raise. Stupid hormonesagain.
When I look pointedly at his hand, he removes it, holding up both hands in surrender, seemingly unaffected. “Look, I just think we need to lay down some ground rules. What happened today will happen again. Probably lots of times. We need to get on the same page so that there are no surprises and no one gets upset.”
Crossing my arms, I cock one hip. “You think I’m upset?”
He makes a strangled sound, holding his hands out towards me. “Aren’t you?”
I roll my eyes and turn toward the bathroom. “As fun as this is, I’m going to change and get started.” With one hand propped on the door, I turn and face him, arching one eyebrow high up my forehead. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about the uniform?”
He bites his lower lip, his eyes tracking down my body.
“Oh my god,” I mutter. “You are the worst.” I close the door before he can respond, changing quickly into the maid’s outfit. After wearing it every day for over a week, I’m pretty used to it by now. He purchased several of them, and they’re included with his clothes when I do his laundry. He has a special spot in his closet where he stores the clean ones. Surprisingly, he sets out a fresh uniform for me every day.
When I open the door, he’s still standing there, and once again his eyes track down my body and back up before meeting my gaze. “We still need to get on the same page.”
