How to Date the Guy You Hate by Julie Kriss Page 0,34

said. “He’s mutated. His genetics are all fucked up.”

“Now I wish he was real,” she said. “He sounds like my kind of guy.”

We stopped at a roadside place for lunch, and after we ate Megan sat at one of the picnic tables outside while I stood by the trees at the edge of the parking lot, stretching before I had to get back in the car. She was quiet, looking away toward the highway where the cars whizzed by, her expression serious. I watched her for a minute and then I stepped in front of her, so she turned and looked at me.

“Okay,” I said. “Are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“The thing,” I said. “The thing you have going on in your life that has nothing to do with me, that you haven’t told anyone.”

“I’m not telling you,” she said.

“Since you’re trying to forget it by having sex with me, you may as well tell me,” I said. She went red, and I rolled my hands in a bring it motion. “Shoot.”

“I never—I never said that,” she said.

“Actually, you did.”

She looked pained. “Jason, I—”

“Megan, it’s fine. Just tell me. You’ll feel better.” She still looked uncertain, so I said, “I never tell anyone anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. I promise I’ll never repeat it. What do you have to lose?”

She looked at me for another long minute, thinking. And then she said, “Fine, Carsleigh. I’ll tell you. Sit down.”

Fourteen

Megan

Jason sat at the picnic table next to mine, his back to the table, his hands folded over his stomach, his long legs stretched out, listening as I talked. Once again I noticed every detail about him, from the way his hot-as-fuck watch glinted on his wrist to the way his unshaven scruff looked on his neck to the way his knees sprawled carelessly in his worn jeans. His knees. It was fucking embarrassing.

A minute ago he’d been stretching, his hands locked at the back of his neck, his elbows up, his shoulders and back flexing beneath the navy blue shirt. I’d pretended not to watch, but I’d seen every luscious move.

I figured nothing could kill the mood faster than the C-word, but as I told him about my mother’s genes and Dr. Pfeiffer and what exactly I was up against, he didn’t even flinch. The only thing I left out was the part about possibly passing my genes on to my kids, because that topic felt personal. I had no intention of talking about reproducing with Jason Carsleigh.

Jason didn’t interrupt. He just listened, and when I finished he said, “Holy shit, Megan. I am really fucking sorry.”

I blinked. Once again he had the talent for saying the right thing at the right time, cutting through the bullshit and just saying sorry like he meant it. I hadn’t thought out what would make me feel better, if that was even possible, but that wasn’t too bad. And I already felt lighter after spilling everything.

“So if you have this mutation,” Jason said, “your chances of getting cancer are statistically a lot higher.”

“Yes,” I said.

“But you don’t really know.”

“No.”

“Shit,” he said again, running a hand through his hair. “No wonder you’ve been stressed out.”

“No,” I said, pointing at him. “That’s not how it works. I don’t get a free pass because of this. Don’t let me off the hook for being a bitch.”

That brought a grin to his face. “If you insist.”

“I’m healthy right now,” I said. “I feel fine. Maybe nothing will happen. There are people who are already sick, who have it a lot worse than me. I’ve seen what cancer can do, and that hasn’t happened to me yet. So I’m just going to live in the moment.”

“I agree,” Jason said. “Live in the moment. It’s a nice day, you have the day off work, my sister made you a dress. And you’re showing up to your ex’s wedding with a hot guy you’re having sex with.”

“I’m not going to tell people we’re having sex, Jason.”

He smiled. “You won’t have to.”

My cheeks flushed. I shook my head. “And I never said you were hot.”

“Please,” he said, motioning to himself. “I’ve been told I have a hotness superpower. I could join the fucking X-Men over here.”

“Oh God, what have I done?” I stood up. “You’re so spoiled by women falling all over you. Let’s go.”

He stood up to follow me, and he looked like he was going to debate that, but his phone buzzed in his pocket. He