Slow No Wake - By Dakota Madison Page 0,9

arrogant with my ex-fiancé; I didn’t need to travel it again.

I moved away from him. “So, does this act of yours actually work on the chicks?” I used air quotes around ‘the chicks’ for emphasis.

He nodded. “I don’t have to try very hard to get laid, if that’s what you’re asking.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, you can just forget about getting laid by anyone in this apartment. It’s never going to happen.”

He stared into my eyes. “Never is a very long time, Alexandria.”

A wave of electricity shot through me. Oh, shit. I hated myself for wanting him. I needed to get my defenses back up. What was I supposed to think about? Dead puppies? Economics exams? It wasn’t working. All I could think about was the intense desire I saw in his gorgeous brown eyes.

I jumped up from the couch and pretended to look at my movie collection. A few seconds later, I could feel the heat of his body right behind me. Then he rested his arm on my shoulder as we both perused the DVDs.

His proximity to me and his body touching mine was almost too intense. I was starting to feel like I couldn’t breathe. He must have felt my body stiffen because he removed his arm from my shoulder and ran his fingers along the DVDs.

“I thought you said you had a variety of movies. These are all action films.”

I pulled Ferris Bueller’s Day Off from the shelf. “Here’s a comedy,” I said.

“Okay, so you’ve got one movie that’s not an action film,” Eddie said. “I wouldn’t call that a variety of movies. And half of the movies in your collection star Jason Statham. Does that mean you like rugged guys?”

I shrugged. I really just liked escapism and action movies were a great escape, especially after dealing with intense therapy clients all day.

“Does that mean I’m not your type?” He was clearly trying to taunt me. No one would mistake him for rugged, that’s for sure. He was definitely more of the GQ model type. If he only knew how much he resembled my ex-fiancé, he’d realize just how much of my type he actually was. But I had no intentions of revealing that tidbit of information.

“Just pick one of the Jason Statham movies,” he said. “Maybe he’ll get you hot and bothered and you’ll want me to help you relieve some sexual tension.”

I made a point of placing Ferris Bueller’s Day Off into the DVD player.

I waited for Eddie to sit on the couch so I could sit as far away as possible.

“Any chance of getting some popcorn?” he asked. “I did bring the beer.”

Obviously, Eddie’s audacity knew no bounds. “You’re very lucky that I picked up popcorn the fifth time I was at Target this past weekend.”

I hustled into the kitchen and slipped a packet of popcorn into the microwave. Unfortunately, I only had one extra large bowl, so we would have to share. I was sure Eddie would just love that.

When the popcorn was ready, I placed it in the giant bowl and brought it out to the living room. I handed the popcorn to Eddie.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m starving.”

He picked a few popcorn pieces from the bowl and popped them into his mouth. “Nothing beats the taste of the fake butter flavored chemicals and carcinogens in microwave popcorn.”

I scrunched my nose up in disgust. “What are you talking about?”

He grabbed another handful of popcorn and downed it. “Studies suggest that microwave popcorn is really bad for you. Full of chemicals that cause cancer and popcorn lung.”

“Then why are you eating it?” I asked.

“Why not?” he replied. “We’re all going to die sometime.”

“How do you know all that?” I probed.

He shrugged and played with the popcorn. Then he looked up at me and said, “Maybe you’re not the only one who likes to read.”

Not. What. I. Was. Expecting. I didn’t think there was much depth to Eddie, the surfer boy, but maybe I was wrong.

I restarted the DVD and we both watched the movie in silence.

After the movie ended, Eddie hopped up from the couch. “Thanks for the wonderful company, the classic 80s teen comedy hit and the cancer-causing popcorn.” He flashed his tilted half grin, revealing his irresistible dimple. I wondered if he knew just how appealing that dimple was.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

“Can I assume then that I’ve got a standing invitation?” He didn’t make it sound like a question.

“No,” I said even though half of me loved