Pucked Over Page 100

Randy looks like sex rolled in bacon and dipped in maple syrup. His hair is seriously fucked. It’s longer again, but it’s not pulled back, and half of it is hanging in his face. His beard is all beardy, and all I want to do is wrap myself around him.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” He points to the hood and then to me.

“You were driving away.” I say in breathy defense.

“Are you back with that douche?” Randy jerks his thumb in Benny’s direction, except Benny’s already in his car, so Randy’s motioning to an empty space.

“That’s Benji’s brother, Benny. They look a lot alike with facial hair. And no, there’s no way I’d get back together with him.”

“His brother’s name is Benny?”

“His parents are jerks.”

“Obviously.”

We stare at each other for a few long seconds, in which time I consider all the ways to get naked.

Randy taps the steering wheel, and I stop mentally undressing him so I can listen to his words. “So things are finished with him?” he asks.

“Yeah. Totally finished. Benny was dropping off my stuff from Benji. It’s easier than seeing him. I mean, I can manage seeing him, but he can’t manage seeing me. He still wants to get back together, and I don’t, so it’s awkward.” Kind of like this conversation.

“That’s good. You can do better than that dickhead.” He chews on the inside of his lip while nodding slowly.

“He’s insecure.”

“Doesn’t give him the right to treat you like shit or belittle you.”

God, he’s sexy, and the way he’s talking reminds me of when I first met him at Alex’s cottage. He was so cocky, and then he defended me, and I rammed my tongue down his throat. I can’t believe that was almost six months ago. I can’t believe I’m in love with him, and he’s sitting here, and I have no idea why.

“So, what brings you to Guelph at eight o’clock in the morning?” I ask, again going for casual.

Randy stretches his arm across the seat. “You.”

Well, that’s direct. “I… uh…”

“I don’t wanna not see you anymore.” He blurts it right out, like word vomit.

“Um…” I have no idea what that means. If he’s here for a booty call, I think I might punch him. I will not have casual sex with him, even if I want to.

He runs his hand through his hair. “Sorry. Last night was long.”

“I watched the game.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been racking up the penalty minutes lately.”

“I’ve been in a bad mood. Happens when the girl I want to be with breaks up with me ’cause I’m not fun anymore.”

Talk about laying it all out there. “I didn’t say you weren’t fun anymore. Wait. Break up with—”

“You said it wasn’t fun for you anymore. Isn’t that the same thing?”

It’s actually very, very different, but I’m still getting my head around the “break up” comment. I need to say something. I can’t look at him, so I drop my gaze to my lap. Shit. I am not dressed for this conversation. I bet my hair’s a mess. This is the most fail reunion ever. If that’s what it is.

“Lily?”

“The sex didn’t stop being fun—”

“I’m glad my fucked-up dick is useful.” He sounds so bitter.

I look up at him. “I love your fucked-up dick.”

“Not enough to want to ride it any more, though.”

I’m angry that he’s come all this way and we’re still just talking about the sex. “Your dick isn’t fucked up, and this is about more than sex, Randy!” I shout. I don’t mean to, but this conversation isn’t going in a helpful direction, and now all I can think about is riding his dick.

A car honks its horn behind us. Randy rolls down the window and gives the person the bird. It’s Benny.

“We’re sitting at a stop sign.” I point to the red octagon.

Randy puts on his blinker and turns the corner. He drives around the block before he pulls over in front of my apartment building and puts on his hazards. He strokes his beard, his expression pensive. “I thought I was just gonna be your rebound. I didn’t expect it to turn into something else.”

I go back to looking at my moose pants. “Look, maybe I should have said something long before I did, but casual sex doesn’t work for me, and you’ve made it clear that’s what you do.”

Randy frowns. “So you’re not good at casual, and that’s all you thought this was.”

“Yes.” Finally, I think we’re getting somewhere. I sigh and shove my hands between my knees. “Everything was fine at first when I kind of hate-liked you, and you were eating at the Vagina Emporium in public bathrooms. Then you started taking me out for lunch, and you bought me clothes and joked about me moving to Chicago. Spending time with you over the holidays changed things—it seemed like it changed things for you, too. It started to feel like something else, but you’d told me it wasn’t.”

Randy stares straight ahead, gripping and releasing the steering wheel. “Was it all the talk about you moving to Chicago?”

“You joking around about me moving isn’t the issue, Randy.”

His jaw tics. “I see.” His chin drops to his chest, and he closes his eyes. “What if what we were doing wasn’t just casual?”

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