Page 39 of Imperfect Match (Imperfect Match 1)
Now I know.
Unfortunately, I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse, since what I know is that she and I are fucking fantastic together. Not just the physical stuff, which was beyond even my wildest dreams—and my dreams about her have gotten pretty wild—but how much fun we had. How much we laughed. How good it felt to know it was Willow inviting me inside her. How unreal it felt to have her hands on my skin and her breath on my lips and her voice in my ear, panting yes, yes, yes. That girl can be the most uptight, persnickety little thing on the planet, day to day, but in bed she was all liquid fire.
And I made her come at least twice. I know I did.
So what’s her problem? I tighten the knot in my tie and study my reflection in the full-length mirror in my bedroom, trying to figure this out. Why was she in such a hurry to kick me out of her bed this morning?
Across the hall, she’s getting ready for work too, and I imagine her fretting about what we’ve done and coming up with a million reasons why it was a mistake. Each one would be sensible, logical, and irrefutable.
My stupid gut feeling we could be great together wouldn’t stand a chance.
But fuck that. I’ve got to give it one.
As I’m leaving my room, I run into Leo attempting to enter it.
“Dude, I didn’t think you were here,” he says, scratching his stomach. He’s wearing ripped boxer shorts and a white Superman T-shirt with yellowed armpits.
I frown. “I didn’t sleep here, but I came in this morning to get ready for work. Do you need something?”
“Coming to use your bathroom. It’s a lot cleaner than mine.”
“Jesus Christ, Leo. It’s called Lysol. Go buy some. I gave you a place to stay, but I’m not scrubbing your fucking toilet.”
My brother looks taken aback. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something? What’s with the bad mood?”
“I’m not in a bad mood!” I roar. “And I don’t need to be told by you or Willow or anybody else how I feel!”
Leo nods knowingly. “Ah. I get it. You slept with Willow.”
I stare at him. “How do you know that?”
He taps his head. “I’m smart. And I notice things, like the way you look at her. It’s the same way I looked at the June 1938 Action Comics book No. 1. I saw it once at a show. A real beauty.” He sighs. “But way out of my price range.”
“Yeah, well, you have a better chance of buying that comic book than I do of convincing Willow to give me a chance.”
“I don’t think so. That thing costs millions of dollars.” He burps and scratches his belly again. “Anyway, what’s with Willow? Why won’t she give you a chance?”
“Hell if I know.”
“Maybe you’re a shitty lay.?
??
I glare at him. “Fuck off.”
“I’m serious. Are you sure you did it right? Do you need some tips on how to find her—”
I hold out a hand to shut him up. “I don’t need any sex tips, thank you very much. I know where everything is. Our problem isn’t physical, it’s mental. She thinks sleeping together was a mistake.”
“Oh.” Leo actually looks a little sad for me. “So now what do you do?”
“I convince her otherwise.” I stand up taller. “She’s just scared is all. And I get it—we’ve been best friends for years, and we don’t want to lose that.”
“You can’t push her, though. Willow is stubborn.”
“I know that,” I snap, annoyed that Leo, of all people, is trying to give me dating advice. “I know her better than anyone.”
“I’m just saying, you might want to keep that Italian temper of yours in check and not go charging at her like a bull toward a red cape.”
