Sam Cruz's Infallible Guide to Getting Girls Part 12

But I'm better.

I whip out my phone. "Hang on. My fat fingers mangle the keyboard but I'm not letting you leave without getting your info."

I hand her the phone. She reluctantly takes it and starts entering her contact info.

"How's school going?" I keep the small talk going long enough for her to enter her name and number.

"Great, actually. I made the Dean's list."

"You totally deserve it." I take the phone back and surrept.i.tiously glance at it.

"You know, Hannah," I continue, "you've done something different since I last saw you." I check her out. "Hair?"

She touches her hair. "Um, it's shorter now."

Hair. Always a safe bet. "It looks great," I a.s.sure her.

She looks at me oddly and I can tell she's confused about whether I really remember her. Which I don't, but why upset her.

"I almost didn't..." I trail off at the sight of Ally, throwing me a totally s.e.xy grin. Huh?

"...Recognize..." I try to focus but lose it again as Ally twirls her hair and blinks adorably before looking away.

Perfectly disinterested.

I am confused. And turned on.

"I..."

I s.h.i.+ft, uncomfortable.

"Are you alright?" Hannah asks.

I glance back at Ally, who takes a sip of her drink then licks her lips.

I take a large sip of pop and press the gla.s.s to my neck. "Hot in here."

"I should get back to my friends," Hannah says.

"No! I mean, let me buy you a..." Once more, there I go. Except this time it's because I realize what's actually been going on.

Ally hasn't been doing this for my benefit. She's been coming on to some douchebag in urban clothing who's honing in on her like a heat-seeking missile.

"Monkey humping credit card baller," I mutter. "I don't think so."

I hurry off to intercept the guy, bailing on Hannah and skidding to a stop in front of Ally.

I glance back over my shoulder with a scowl, momentarily stopping the DB.

Ally shoves at me. "Get lost. I hooked one."

"I don't like the way he's looking at your soft underbelly. Let's go."

"No," she protests.

"No arguing with the master." I grab her hand and drag her away.

Chapter fourteen.

Sam flicks on his bedroom light and I stomp in. His kitten, Attila, snuggles on his pillow, asleep.

Even though I'm annoyed at Sam for killing my potential happy buzz, part of me is hugely relieved. There was a lot of pressure back at that party. Not that I'm backing down, but it all felt so contrived.

I'd kind of like my first post-Jeremy hookup to be a bit more natural and not so blatant, like the clock is ticking down to midnight so I better nab some guy so I'm not on my own when the lights come up.

Of course I'd never admit this to Sam, so I keep my annoyed face on as I stroke the kitten.

"Ooh, you're a sweetheart," I coo as she rolls on her belly, eyes wide open and gazing up at me.

"Mistakes were made," Sam tells me.

I flick my gaze toward him and reach for my indignant place. "Are you totally insane? You drag me out of there, don't talk to me the entire way back, and then tell me mistakes were made? What mistakes?"

"The mistake was that you're not ready because you don't know the last lesson."

Uh-huh. "So it's your mistake," I charge.

Sam brushes me off. "Do we really need to a.s.sign it?"

I scratch Attila's ears. "What's the last lesson? Or should I say who?"

"The Ethan Hunt. Because getting out of there without hard feelings can be a mission impossible." Sam considers me, thoughtfully. "Although as a girl, you probably won't have the same trouble. They'll just want you gone."

"Charming."

"However, in case you happen to snag the one girly man who wants to cuddle, we need a sound strategy to get you out safely. Because after your night *o fun, you must end it. Hit the road."

"Thank G.o.d you told me that. I might have just stayed stuck in the bed for years."

Sam makes a face at me, his lack of amus.e.m.e.nt plain. "When you enter a guy's room, the first thing to do is find a bedpost or easily accessible place to throw your clothing for speedy retrieval. Take a moment to map out the room so that you can leave without any noise, even if it's dark."

He mimes out taking note of the room and scampering away.

"That seems a little callous."

"Awkward *apres chit chat' is worse," he informs me.

Yeah. I'm sure he hates talking to girls any longer than he has to and he probably has a point, but still. Maybe I can modify the lesson as fits the situation.

Sam senses my doubt because he continues with "When you leave that bed, you have about sixty seconds before they notice you're gone. Or about 4 rounds of the MI theme music. Make the most of it."

"The depth to which you've broken this down is actually kind of frightening me," I say.

"You'll thank me when you're out of there safe and sound," he a.s.sures me.

"What if we're at my place?" I ask.

He huffs in utter frustration. "Never bring him to your place. How will you get rid of him?"

"Hang on," I interrupt. "You mean you've never slept with a girl here in your room?"

"Nope."

"Seriously? Not ever?"

"No. This is what I'm trying to tell you. Also, bring your own protection. Did you have anything tonight?"

"No," I admit. I'd figured either the guy would have something or the deed wouldn't get done.

Sam shakes his head sadly. "See all the reasons why you weren't ready to be a lioness?"

Yes, but they weren't the ones you were thinking, buddy.

"Obviously I'm not going to have unprotected s.e.x, but explain to me why he can't have protection?" I ask.

"It helps you own it and not be dependent. Even the tiniest hint of neediness is unappealing."

I cross my arms, ready to be done with this. Sam may be the master but I think he needs therapy. I never realized the depth of his issues. "That it?"

"Almost," he replies. "In one night stands, the general rule is b.l.o.w. .j.o.bs yes, going down on a chick, not so much. You should live by the motto, *It's better to give than to receive.'"

He's got to be kidding. "No wonder girls throw themselves at you. They're hoping to fall on your tongue and get some release." My look makes it clear that there is no way I'm following that rule.

"Suit yourself." He nudges the kitten to move off his pillow. She totally ignores him.

"Am I ready to fly solo now?"

"Fly solo; spread those wings. Go forth and fornicate."

"Good."

"No kidding," he says. "I've gotta admit, it's been weird helping you get guys. I'm glad we can get back to our regularly scheduled programming."

"Me too. Well, releasing into the wild...now."

We fist b.u.mp.

As I leave I hear Sam say, "Thank G.o.d that's over."

And then it actually happens.

I get it on.

His name is Matteo and he's a pretty, pretty boy, all floppy hair and blue eyes with heavily fringed eyelashes. The opposite end of the looks spectrum from Jeremy, who I found cute but, if I'm being honest, liked initially more for his brains. His looks grew on me over time.

Matteo, though? Let's just say I think you'd have to be dead not to check him out twice.

I suspect he's dumb as a post but hey. Means he won't want to chat after, either.

How it goes down is that the night is still relatively young when I leave Sam's and I'm starving. Like hypoglycemic, throw someone off a bridge if I don't get fed, hungry.

So I stop by my favorite food truck for some of their gourmet fries. Super crispy with caramelized onions and a spicy salsa aioli, it's scrumptious heaven.

Except this dude totally tries to steal my order. So I say to him, "Yo, fry Ninja, step down."

He turns to me with a rude glare and that's when I get my first glimpse of his adorableness. Me want.

So I immediately switch tactics, tilt my head like I saw the ditz back at the club doing and put on my best breathy voice. "I think those are mine," I say, all wide-eyed and "why don't you help me figure this out."

Being a gentleman, plus they really are my fries, he hands them over and totally checks me out.

Turns out I know him. Kind of. His mom used to babysit me when I was a kid.

So when he tells me he's got a place nearby and asks if I want to get my fries to go and eat them someplace warmer, I agree.

I figure since his mom is sweet that the chances of him being a psycho-killer are pretty slim. And off we go.

His place is small but relatively neat and of course, there's the requisite guitar, as if his looks aren't swoon-worthy enough. He plays me a couple songs, and to be fair, he's not going to set the world on fire, but I'm thinking that as long as he sets me on fire, the rest doesn't matter.

Matteo sets his guitar down, leans over, and kisses the hollow of my neck. I s.h.i.+ver, loving the rasp of his stubble against my skin.

His hair brushes against my face and I catch the faint whiff of some musky cologne. The expensive kind, not the gag-worthy, cover-up-bad-BO stuff.

I am putty in his hands.

He presses me back against his futon. Everything progresses nicely. There are kisses, fumbling, zippers unzipped and clothes removed; I'm at the all-you-can handle buffet of taste and touch.

I may not have had time to get my own protection, but Matteo is well stocked. I have a wide selection of textures and colors.

He slides my underwear off and I realize I'm naked. Yeah, brilliant, right? But it's the first time I've ever been naked in front of any guy except Jeremy.

And suddenly I'm completely self-conscious.