Page 53 of Pucking Bad Boys

But my sore ass is nothing compared to the horrific scene that awaits me once I make it to the bathroom.

Spending all night crying about my unrequited crushes without taking my makeup off first wasn’t a smart idea.

You know those game apps where you have to give your avatar a makeover and you start with zits that need popping, a wild bird’s nest as hair, and last night’s mascara smeared all around your eyes?

That’s the image that greets me when I look in the mirror. Hopefully, Macklin won’t notice that the five minutes I said I needed will be more like twenty. And that’s just to tame my hair and clean up my face.

Maybe this is why women like Gen get all the hot guys. She wouldn’t show up to a study session with the hottest man on campus looking like a complete train wreck.

Macklin

Maybe getting my car washed before coming to pick up Talia was overkill.

But I didn’t stop there. I got new floor mats, and there’s one of those pine tree-shaped car deodorants that’s dangling from the front mirror, mocking me. I didn’t have enough time, or I would have gotten it detailed.

The worst part? I already picked up breakfast, and I pull up in front of the Zeta House half an hour early.

If I wait thirty minutes to text Talia to let her know that I’m here, breakfast will get cold. But if I text her now, I’ll look like I’m overly eager. Like a fucking loser.

I debated it for a whole five seconds and then texted her. Loser it is, I guess. No one likes a stone cold sausage and egg biscuit.

The truth is that I can’t wait to see her again.

After I kissed her on the dance floor and she stormed off, I went after her. But Talia wouldn’t open her bedroom door, and in the end, I decided to go home and give us both the night to cool off.

Of course, I didn’t sleep a wink. I spent the night tossing and turning, wondering why she reacted that way.

Was she upset because she didn’t want to kiss me? It’s possible, but if that was the case, why would she kiss me back?

The other option is that she was upset about Becks and Gen’s kiss. I caught Talia stealing glances at my brother all night, and I think she likes him.

It’s also possible that both options are true. But that kiss was too fucking good for her not to be into it. I’ve never had a kiss like that. It was… perfect doesn’t seem enough to describe it. It was fucking everything.

So I’ve been going back and forth about what I should say to Talia when she comes out of the house.

My eyes land on the breakfast bag on the passenger seat. Is that going to turn into an apology breakfast? It would be hypocritical of me to apologize. I’m not sorry at all. I actually hope to get to do it again. As soon as possible. Maybe even today.

I exhale a frustrated breath, shifting uncomfortably in my seat. I need to keep my burning desire for Talia under control, or I’ll fuck this over even before I had a chance with her.

The rearview mirror shows the front door of the Zeta House opening and Talia coming out.

I adjust it to get a better look at her as she walks out of the driveway and toward my parked SUV.

The movement causes that stupid pine tree air freshener to dangle in front of my face.

Fuck it. It is overkill. I grab it and throw it out of my car window. I usually don’t litter but this is an emergency.

Sadly, there’s no way to make the car look less pristine. I mean, a clean car is a good thing. On second thought, I’m glad I didn’t get it detailed. Only serial killers keep their cars that clean so they don’t get caught. Ok, that’s probably not true, but I don’t want Talia to think I’m one of those douche bags who are anal about their cars.

At this point, it doesn’t matter. A clean car smell and a touch of hot breakfast food is definitely a better smell than stale hockey gear.

As Talia approaches the passenger seat, I unlock the door for her.

Maybe I should have come out to open it for her, but I have to remind myself that this isn’t a date.

Besides, I’m trying to keep the lowest possible profile in case Gen, or one of her minions, spotted me out here. That’s why I texted her rather than ringing the doorbell.

“Hey.”