What am I supposed to do now? What’s protocol for burying your face into a stranger’s lady bits? Do I give her a compliment? Apologize and throw myself at her mercy?
For starters, try removing your face from her vag before things get awkward.
This cannot be happening. If I get tagged for sexual harassment, Coach is going to kill me.
For a long moment, we stand frozen, neither of us moving.
And then, as if by silent agreement, we spring apart.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to…” I trail off, face a five-alarm blaze as I gesture to her nether regions.
“It’s fine.” She sighs and glances down at her broken heel, which is protruding from the sidewalk like a fence post. “That’s what I get for buying cheap shoes.”
I wouldn’t know a designer label if it bit me in the ass, but I nod, letting fast fashion take one for the team.
“Well, as delightful as this has been,” she says, shifting her weight, “I think this is my sign to call it a night.”
She turns to go, gait awkward and uneven, and I leap into action, pulling my phone from my pocket.
“Wait. Let me get you an Uber.”
It’s the least I can do after—Nope. Not even going there.
I pull up the app and I’m punching in the request when she turns—unsteadily—on her good heel.
“It’s just a few blocks. I’m not going to waste money on a car service.”
“My treat,” I say automatically, noting the driver is only two minutes away. “I won’t be able to sleep tonight without knowing you got home safe and sound.”
“I’m a big girl. I think I can manage on my own.”
Until some drunk creep tries to hit on you…
Yeah, that’s not happening.
“I can’t, in good conscience, let you walk home alone.”
My mother would have my hide. Besides, I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her. College Park isn’t exactly crime central, but I’m not about to risk her safety on some half-baked statistic. I don’t know a damn thing about her. Hell, I don’t even know her name. But I know with every fiber of my being that I want to protect her from harm.
“Right.” She laughs, the low timbre as smooth as scotch. “Because it’s not in your nature to ignore a damsel in distress.”
Relief floods my chest. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Exactly.”
“Oh my God,” she says, rolling those cerulean eyes skyward. “I can’t even.”
“You can’t even what?”
I’ve completely lost the thread of the conversation.
“Are you serious right now?” She studies me, brow furrowed. “Jesus, you are.”
“I…have no idea what you’re talking about,” I admit.
“It’s just an expression of speech.” The corner of her mouth twitches and, damn what I wouldn’t give to see her smile. “This whole boy next door routine may work on other women, but I’m no damsel and I’m hardly in distress.”
“The Uber will be here any minute.” I glance down at her busted shoe. “You can’t walk home in those things. You’ll break your ankle.”
She shrugs. “I can always go barefoot.”
