“For now.” She grins and pats her dark curls. “And the makeup sex wasah-maz-ing. You should try it sometime.”
“I’ll get right on that,” I shoot back, scanning the chalkboard menu. “Just as soon as I lose my virginity.”
There’s a deep chuckle behind us, the sound raking over my skin like hot coals.
No-freaking-way.
No one’s luck is that bad. Not even mine.
Warmth floods my cheeks, and I turn slowly, hoping like hell I’ve got it wrong. The eavesdropper wears an arrogant smirk, one my fingers itch to wipe off his face. Our eyes meet, mine no doubt horrified, his amused and the most gorgeous shade of cerulean blue.
Cooper-the-cockblocking-jockhole-DeLaurentis.
8
COOPER
Quinn turns on her heel,staring up at me with those big green eyes, and presses her lips flat. She’s wearing a Wildcats tank top, a pair of denim cut-offs and flip-flops, which do nothing to bridge the gap in our heights. She looks positively innocent standing there with flushed cheeks and her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun.
Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving, can’t they?
After all, every time I bump into her, she’s either talking about sex or attempting to get laid.
If she wasn’t Noah’s sister, she’d be a woman after my own heart.
“Cooper.” Quinn says my name with an air of disapproval, making it clear she hasn’t forgiven me for interfering Saturday night.
“Please tell me you aren’t planning another random hookup.” I flash her a lopsided grin. “In a coffee shop.”
“That’s none of your business.” She adjusts her bag, gripping the strap so hard her nails dig into her palm. “You’ve done quite enough, don’t you think?”
I open my mouth to argue—no one likes the clap—but her friend cuts me off.
“Hi, I’m Haley.” She offers her hand, a knowing grin curving her lips.
Quinn obviously told her about our run-in at Sig. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she approves. I like her already.
“Coop.” I shake her hand, careful not to squeeze too hard, but her grip is firm and sure. “Nice to meet you. Any friend of Quinn’s is a friend of mine.”
Quinn huffs out a breath. “We aren’t friends.”
“Agree to disagree.” I lean down and whisper, “And as your friend, I’d like to suggest you forget about this whole random hookup business. Why not get a boyfriend and pop your cherry the normal way?”
Quinn rolls her eyes, and the overhead lights are reflected in their emerald depths. “Told you he was a pig.”
Haley gives me an appreciative once-over. “A sexy pig.”
Finally, a voice of reason.
“First of all, there’s nothing normal about me.” Quinn lifts her chin, as if challenging me to argue before she plunges on. “Second, maybe I don’t want a boyfriend,” she adds, voice carrying over the steady buzz of the cafe. “I just want to get laid already.”
Several heads swivel our way. Whether it’s from the mention of sex or the fact that the line has moved on without us is anyone’s guess.
Quinn hurries forward, dragging Haley by the arm. I follow.
For the coffee.
Keep telling yourself that, DeLaurentis.
