chapter seven

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The sun is sitting low on the horizon, barely illuminating the blood-orange sky, when I stop my bike outside of Josie's apartment building

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The sun is sitting low on the horizon, barely illuminating the blood-orange sky, when I stop my bike outside of Josie's apartment building. 

She must have been waiting for me because I catch sight of her immediately, jogging down the stairs while the warm summer breeze blows her yellow sundress around her tanned thighs. Her long dark hair is swaying behind her with each step, and I recognize the white ribbon holding it back in a ponytail from the first night I met her in that art studio. She hops down from the last step, and when her eyes flick up to mine and her lips pull back into that attractive smile, I'm reminded of why I'm even here.

I didn't know how to explain it to Luke when he asked me. He nearly choked on his protein shake when I told him I was about to pick up Josie for a date — or non-date, I guess — but I didn't know what to say when he asked me why.

Why am I doing this?

I have no fucking clue.

I don't date. I never have. And if I'm honest, I've never put this much effort into getting laid before. Not to sound like a complete asshole, but it's not that hard for me. I don't even bother trying with the girls who play hard to get because I'm not looking to put that much effort into it. I want easy, simple, fast — a quick fuck in the back of her car or a blow job in the bathroom of a party. But ever since I saw Josie in that art class stripping out of her clothes and sitting on the stool beside mine, I haven't been able to get the picture of her perfect watermelon-covered ass out of my mind.

She's not my type. Not even close. Luke hit it right on the head when he told West what kind of girls I like — Jenny McPherson lookalikes. It's not on purpose, and as cool as Jenny is, I'm not pining after my friend's girl. I just like the look of tall platinum blondes with big tits and blue eyes.

But Josie isn't that; she's not even close to that. She's short as hell with small perky tits and pretty brown doe eyes, almost the exact opposite of what I usually go for. And yet, every night this week, I've imagined how those wide eyes would look staring up at me while she had her lips around my cock. I spilled into my own hand while imagining what she might sound like, what kind of noises she makes when she's close. Is she loud? Breathy? A dirty talker? The quiet kind? I don't know, but I really want to find out, and I guess that's why I'm here. I've never had a girl stuck in my head like this.

When she stops at the curb, she hesitates as she considers my bike, as if she's afraid it might reach out to bite her if she gets too close.

"No red rain boots tonight, Melons?" I grin, peering down at her white Keds.

Somehow, this girl looked hot in an oversized t-shirt, peach shorts, and red rain boots that came up to her mid-calf. But even in the mismatched outfit, she still managed to turn me on. I wasn't expecting to see her while I was sprawled out on the couch annotating the book I was reading for my European Lit class, but when Luke paused his game of Call of Duty and replayed the same video over and over, I looked over at him with a raised brow. I could tell it was one of Olivia's because thanks to Luke constantly stalking her Instagram, I've heard her laugh so many times I could spot her blind just by the sound of it. But when he looked up and turned the phone so that I could see, I watched Josie pop up on the screen.

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