But god, if it wasn’t nice. No…nice isn’t even a strong enough word. It was freaking transcendent, like Damian’s mouth was pure magic. Or the last slice of homemade triple chocolate cake.
Or crack.
It’s not like I’ve never kissed a guy before, though my experience is mostly limited to my ex-boyfriend, Parker. But even then, kissing him was nothing like kissing Damian. Kissing Parker was fine, if not a bit boring and perfunctory, whereas kissing Damian…well…it’s addictive. The instant his lips brush mine, I am consumed and lose all sense of self, his every touch the fuel that turns the quiet embers burning inside me into a raging inferno. Before meeting him, I never felt that kind of intense passion, thatlust, and annoyingly, it’s set such a high bar that I have my doubts about finding it with anyone else. Which, of course, only makes me despise him more because of the simple fact that it is utterly wasted.
Why can’t I feel those kinds of feelings for someone who doesn’t majorly suck?
Jesus, I’m starting to think Ronnie was right. Maybe Damian does make me chemically imbalanced. That’s the only explanation for why I keep making decisions with my vagina instead of my head, like I’m a teenage boy in the throes of puberty and all I can think about are boobs.
Focus, Lexi,I scold myself.That fuckboy Damian is not worth the brain cells you are wasting on him.
Dropping my pencil on top of my notebook, I lean my elbows on my desk and dig my fingertips into my temples, rubbing vigorously, as if doing so will somehow make me concentrate, like a self-inflicted Vulcan mind meld. Not that I’ve ever watchedStar Trekto even know what that is, which makes me think that I lend far too much of my cognitive resources listening to the wonder twins talk about their interests and hobbies, and enduring their personalities in general. That certainly seems to be the case given how I unwittingly channeled them when Damian and I went out on Friday.
First, with thePretty Womancomment, and then when I lost my mind and called Damian “lover” in front of that mortified retail assistant. I didn’t know who Richard Gere is until last week when I Googled the movie after Andie made the comparison between me and Julia Roberts, so I could actually understand what she was talking about. As for the whole “lover” thing…I have no defense other than it was the first word that popped into my head when I saw Damian beingDamianwith that attractive sales girl, who was definitely into the “let’s fuck” vibes he was giving off like an animal in heat. And I couldn’t have that—not because I was jealous (gross), but because he was so flippantly ready to risk blowing up what I was sacrificingliterallyall of my dignity for at the first sign of a willing vagina. And well…I just couldn’t let that fly.
Someone coughs, the sound jolting me out of my thoughts, and I glance reflexively at the front of the room where ProfessorBensen is pointing at something on the board. Crap, what is he talking about again? We’re learning Graph Theory, and he was explaining algorithms before, so…
Dijkstra’s Algorithm!The answer hits me like a lightning bolt to my prefrontal cortex, and I snap my fingers in victory, attracting some bewildered glances from my classmates.
Heat warms my cheeks as I sink down in my seat. I really have to get a grip on myself. All this just because Damian said I’m decent at kissing? It’s official. I have gone off the deep end.
As if I even care what that asshat thinks.
“Get your shit together, Lexi,” I mutter.
“Can anyone tell me what the time complexity of Dijkstra’s Algorithm is?” Professor Bensen asks, and I instantly perk up, straightening in my chair.
Perfect. Just the distraction I need.
I thrust my hand in the air, like an overeager kindergartner on her first day of school.
Professor Bensen points to me as he returns to the lectern. “Yes, Lexi.”
I clear my throat. “Well, it depends on the data structure used to implement the priority queue, but using a binary heap, the time complexity is Big O of V plus E, times the logarithm of V. If you’re using a Fibonacci heap, you can reduce the complexity to Big O of E plus V times the logarithm of V, with the logarithm applying only to the V.” The numbers and connections dance before me as the words leave my lips, the colored shapes only I can see locking into place, the edges of each one sharp and precise, like Tetris blocks falling into their intended positions.
Professor Bensen gives me an approving nod. “Excellent answer. Now, some real world applications would be…”
“A Fibo-what now?” a voice says right next to my ear, and I practically jump out of my seat. I careen forward, my fight or flight instinct kicking in, then whip around when I’ve regainedmy senses only to find the very source of my distraction and unending annoyance sitting directly behind me.
“Damian?” I gasp stupidly, then blink several times to ensure I’m not hallucinating.
Did I somehow materialize him in the middle of Professor Bensen’s lecture because I can’t stop obsessing over what he said? Because I can’t stopagonizingover our kiss on Friday?
No, don’t be stupid,I tell myself. He’s here because…well, not because he takes this class, that’s for sure. I’m not even certain he knows how to do math. We certainly didn’t do any during our tutoring sessions last school year. Those were composed solely of verbal foreplay prior to our big finale in the mathematics section. I think humping each other against those textbooks was the closest we ever got to math.
“What are you doing—” I start to ask at the same time he says, “What the hell are you learning?” It’s only now that I notice his dark gaze is fixed over my shoulder on my open notebook instead of on my face, his brow creased in confusion.
“Graph Theory,” I answer, my tone neutral.
Reaching past me, he flips the pages of my notebook, his expression growing increasingly perplexed. “What is this, some kind of ninja math?”
I sigh, shoving Damian’s hand away from my desk, then turn my back to him to at least give the appearance that I’m paying attention, even if all hope of that has been decimated for good with the fuckboy’s unwanted presence. Professor Bensen doesn’t seem to have noticed the interruption, but the other students around me certainly have.
“What do you want?” I hiss as a few of my nearby classmates watch us intently.
Damian leans forward, resting his elbows on the back of my chair. “You’ve been dodging my texts. I wanted to make sure we’re still on for our date today.”
I shiver at the touch of his breath on my neck, and tilt my head just enough to glare back at him over my shoulder. “I’m not dodging your texts. My phone is off because I’m in class.Learning. Like you should probably be doing now, too.”
