Instead of backing up like I expect her to do, she stands her ground before adding, "I didn't slam into you and if that was your lame attempt at an apology, it really sucked."
I can't help the slow smile that spreads its way across my face because this party just got a hell of a lot more interesting.
Chapter Two
I don't know who this chick is, but she's totally spunky for someone so tiny. And I have to admit that I’m kind of liking it. I can't help but warm to this little back and forth we suddenly have going on here.
Does that make me perverse?
Because I kind of think it does.
"Why would I apologize when you’re the one who slammed into me? Maybe you should be apologizing to me right now."
"Are you out of your mind?" As she holds up the bottom of her dripping sweater, I’m just able to make out the barest hint of smooth flat belly above the waistband of her low rise jeans. I can't help but find myself intrigued by that little strip of alabaster flesh. "Do you see this? This is your beer all over my favorite sweater. I love this sweater and now it's probably ruined." She wrinkles her nose in the cutest way. "And that smell is never going to come out."
I want to grin but I suspect that will only piss her off more. So I do my best to rein it in before saying, "Look, it's just beer. I promise, it'll come out. Just soak it in some Woolite when you get home tonight, it'll be fine."
She arches a brow. "And you know this how?"
"Um, because girls are like always spilling their beer on me." Rolling my eyes, I give her my best drama queen voice (FYI- I have lots of experience with girls acting like this which is yet another reason for my strict no girlfriend policy). "I can't even tell you how many times some rude chick has ruined one of my favorite sweaters."
Now this is the part where she's supposed to chuckle or crack a smile or do something. Something to show that she's not totally immune to me. Or my charismatic charm. Or my handsome good looks. Or my huge bulging biceps. Instead, she just levels a hard, uncomfortable stare at me.
Did I happen to mention the uncomfortable part?
Yeah, this is definitely starting to feel awkward.
There is absolutely no change in her facial expression (not even a twitch) which has me feeling like a real dumbass right about now. And I'll be honest with you, I'm not used to feeling like that when it comes to interacting with the opposite sex. "Wow, really? Nothing? You're one tough crowd."
"It's almost difficult to believe that your sad attempt at a joke was even lamer than your apology... but it was.
Ouch. Talk about being bitch slapped into next week…
Feeling like I'm on strangely shaky ground, I hold out the towel as a peace offering. She yanks it quickly from my hand before staring down at what I now understand to be her favorite sweater.
"It's everywhere." A soft puff of air leaves her lips as if she's at a loss. "I don't even know where to begin."
Okay, so here's what happens next- and yeah... it's not good. And by not good, I actually mean terrible. Before I can stop myself, (AKA- consider my actions and therefore the ramifications of said actions) I’m plucking the towel out of her hand before going to town on the wet material now pressed up against her delectable little body.
Now, if I’d thought she was frowning before… well, I was wrong.
And I mean really wrong because in the moment that it takes for my hand to breech her no fly zone, her lips sink even further into what I can only describe as an angry slash as she silently watches me from eyes so narrowed, they're practically slits.
"I'm starting to think you purposefully spilled that beer just so you could cop a cheap feel."
I snort.
Well, I guess I am technically copping a feel. But anything I'm actually feeling is minimal at best. She certainly can't compete with Natalie in the tits department. For some bizarre reason I feel the need to throw this girl off her game, just like she's inexplicably done to me. Even though I know it's a completely jerky thing to do, I give her chest a long leering look. I even squint for good measure, before dragging my eyes back up to hers.
There. Now that ought to be enough to shut her down.
Most chicks hate to have their breasts ogled, which is actually kind of laughable. Not to mention confusing, because they're the first ones to wear the tiniest, tightest scrapes of fabric they can find in their closet and call it a shirt. Then they have the audacity to get mad when we gawk. Yeah, I don’t get it either.
Word to the wise- if you're going to stare at a girl's boobs, do it covertly. Otherwise it's sexual harassment.
I don’t quite know what's gotten into me but I don't like that this girl’s not responding the way females usually do when they’re around me. So, I add the kicker. "There's not exactly a lot to cop, if you know what I mean."