“DOA.” I sit up and lean back against the headboard. “Didn’t you get my text?”
She shakes her head. “My phone died.”
Haley’s the only person I know who lets her phone battery die on the regular. She’s a free-spirited artist who doesn’t believe in being chained to technology, but honestly? Charging her phone would eliminate fifty percent of the arguments she has with Bryan.
Of course, it would also eliminate fifty percent of their makeup sex, so maybe she’s onto something after all.
“Hales, you can’t go out drinking by yourself with a dead phone battery.” I know I’m giving off strong mom vibes, but one of us has to worry about personal safety. “What if there was an emergency? Or you needed a ride?”
Haley waves me off and tucks her feet beneath her body, making it clear she’s not leaving until she gets the deets on my disastrous evening.
I huff out a breath. “Why do I even bother?”
“Beats me.” She wiggles her brows and pokes me in the leg. “Now spill.”
I tell her the whole sordid story, leaving nothing out. When I’m finally done ranting about Cooper-the-cockblocker-DeLaurentis, Haley is laughing so hard tears are streaming down her face.
How’s that for comforting?
“It’s a good thing I love you.” I smack her on the side with a pillow. “Otherwise, I’d be seriously offended right now.”
“I’m sorry,” she pants, swiping the tears from her cheeks. “But, come on. You know it’s funny. Who does that even happen to?”
“Me!” I point to myself. “It happens to me. Every. Freaking. Time.” Which is why I have no shortage of embarrassing material to write about for my column in The Collegian. I pause as reality sinks in. “I really am going to die a virgin.”
“Not in this lifetime.” Haley props herself up on her elbows and makes a swooning gesture. “I can’t believe Cooper DeLaurentis carried you out of the house. I’d give anything to have that hottie go all caveman on me.”
“He’s all yours.” I smile sweetly, hoping to drive the point home. “He’s not my type.”
Because I’m not into hard-bodied football players… said no woman ever.
“Girl, if you’ve got ovaries, he’s your type.”
Fair point. The guy is a fifteen on a ten-point scale. I didn’t exactly hate the feel of his muscular body pressed against mine, but come on. He’s an arrogant prick. That whole spiel about virgins? What a load of crap. I mean, who the hell does he think he is telling me who I can and can’t have sex with?
If I want to get the clap, that’s my prerogative.
Not that I want the clap. Or any other STD.
But it’smychoice to make.
“Whatever.” I give myself a mental shake. Cooper DeLaurentis willnotbe taking up any more of my time or headspace. “He’s probably overcompensating for a small dick.”
“Not from what I hear.” Haley climbs to her feet. “A girl in my algebra class hooked up with him last spring. She said it was the best sex of her life.” She pauses, making a lewd gesture. “Apparently, he’s a man of many talents.”
“Thanks for that visual.” I shoot her the side-eye. “That’s just what a sexually frustrated virgin needs to hear before bed.”
“You’re welcome.” Haley blows me a kiss and flounces out of the room as I switch off the lamp.
I flop back on my pillow, trying to recall my dream about Henry Cavill. When I close my eyes, though, it’s not his striking face I see imprinted on the back of my eyelids. Not his seductive smile warming my blood, or his placid blue eyes winking flirtatiously.
Nope. It’s Cooper-virgins-need-not-apply-DeLaurentis.
Fan-freaking-tastic.
6
COOPER
