How to Date the Guy You Hate by Julie Kriss Page 0,28

feeling his smile against my mouth.

“I hate you,” I said.

He just laughed, a silent vibration in his perfect chest and stomach. “Admit it,” he said. “Every part of me turns you on.”

I closed my eyes. He was right.

I was tough. I could deal with my mother’s sickness and death, my father’s checking out, my shitty job situation, my lack of prospects, my warped genes. I could handle anything, and I could do it alone. But I had one weakness. One big, massive, muscled weakness, and it was currently between my legs.

Jason Carsleigh was my kryptonite.

And as of now, he knew it.

Eleven

Jason

“Hey, man, what did you do?” Shark said, looking me up and down with narrowed eyes. “You look different.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, zipping up my black warmup jacket that said SECURITY on the back. Prepping for another night at Zoot Bar.

“You lose weight?” Shark asked, stepping back. We were standing next to the bar, which was empty of customers since it was still early. “Get new clothes?”

“Dude, I saw you two days ago,” I said. “There’s no way I lost weight. And we always wear the same fucking jacket.”

Shark’s eyes narrowed, like somehow he thought I was having him on. “If you say so. Whatever. You’re on Puke Patrol first.”

When he walked away I turned to see Edie, the bartender, leaning on her side of the bar and smiling at me.

“What?” I asked her.

She winked one mascaraed eye, her long hair glossy under the nightclub lights. “You have a girl,” she said knowingly.

“There’s no girl.”

“Sure there is,” she said. “I can tell. You got laid, Carsleigh.”

I sighed. “There is no possible way you can see that.”

“Not precisely, but you look different.” She tilted her head. “Hotter. It’s like it gave you some kind of hotness superpower.”

It did? “I don’t know what that is, but if you say I have it, I’m stoked.”

“Is she cute?”

I stared at the ceiling, trying not to think of Megan, who was definitely cute, especially when she was moaning out an orgasm. One time. It was just one time, and that was all. “There is no girl.”

“See, I’d say it was a one-night stand,” Edie went on as if I hadn’t spoken, “except you’re not that kind of guy. One-night stands don’t give guys a hotness superpower. Cute girls do. I’m a bartender—I know this stuff.”

“This is crazy,” I said, for the first time wishing I could just go to the back and start Puke Patrol. “You don’t know anything about me. Maybe I’m a one-night stand guy.” I looked around at the club, which was slowly filling with a few knots of people around the edges. “I could pick up a girl in here anytime I want.” The girls in here were younger than me, and they were mostly drunk, which would make it ultra creepy, but it was still technically true.

“That’s how I know you’re not that guy,” Edie said with perfect logic. “Still, you look like something took the edge off, and it wasn’t porn. Don’t worry, it looks good on you. Just don’t wander too close to the bachelorette party we’re expecting tonight, or they might rip your clothes off.”

I winced. “Oh, no. I haven’t seen a bachelorette party in here yet.”

Edie shook her head. “They’re awful, just awful. Rowdy and shrill, and their tips stink. At least one of them will throw up, guaranteed. Maybe you’ll get lucky and they’ll shove dollar bills down your pants.”

“I hate this fucking job,” I said.

“You think?” Edie’s eyebrow arched. “Welcome to my life.”

I wandered toward the back, glad to be away from her observant scrutiny, glad that the place was dimly lit. The fact was, I felt different. The sex session on Megan’s couch had made me more comfortable in my skin, less on edge, less jittery. It had also made me horny as hell. There was no way I wanted to do that only once with her, and I thought she felt the same. She’d gone nuts for me on that couch, every time I touched her, like she couldn’t get enough. Like once wouldn’t do it for her either.

But of course, being Megan, she had to give me shit.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through our text history. I’d texted her the next day: If you want a repeat, I’ll consider it. Let me know. I couldn’t resist needling her a little, but it was a sincere offer. The truth was, she could text me the word Now and