Co-WRECKER

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Such a travesty.”

  Stepping up to the counter, we are greeted by a larger man with a pen behind his ear, a full goatee gracing his face, and wearing a backwards hat. “What can I get you two?”

  Dramatically Andrew leans on the counter and looks up at the man. “I’m dying, dude.”

  Andrew must have winked at the man or they have some kind of secret guy code because instead of the man being caught off guard by Andrew’s announcement, he leans forward and pats Andrew’s arm. “Fuck, I’m sorry to hear that. And you look so young. Blue balls?” he asks.

  Andrew shakes his head, really using the counter as his support. “See this beautiful woman next to me?”

  The man looks me up and down and then back at Andrew. “She’s quite the looker. Let me guess, she won’t give you the time of day.”

  He lifts our connected hands for the man to see. “Oh, she’s given me the time during the day, morning actually.”

  “Andrew!” I swat at him, causing the man to laugh.

  Leaning a little more forward, he places his hand to the side of his mouth and whispers, “Okay, to be fair, it was a little dry humping, nothing naked.”

  “Oh my God,” I moan in embarrassment.

  “Aw, I love a good trocken buckel in the morning.” As both of us look confused, the man clarifies, “It’s German.”

  Nodding, Andrew continues, “I’m digging that term, man. If only I wasn’t dying, I’d be able to use it more.”

  “Ah yeah, your impending death. What’s sending you to the coffin early?”

  “Uh, biodegradable urn actually. I would like to become a tree once I die.” Interesting, never pegged Andrew as a tree-urn kind of guy. “But that’s beside the point. I’m dying because this beautiful woman standing next to me, holding my hand, the one who trocken buckeled my crotch this morning, has been denying me of her laugh. And man,” Andrew grabs the guy by the shirt and pulls him closer in desperation, “she has the most mind-numbing, life-altering, gorgeous-beyond-belief laugh. A kind of laugh that you swear you see angels floating out of her mouth when she thinks something is funny.”

  “Wow.” The man steps back. “That’s rough, man. I can’t believe she can be so cold. You know what, two spiedies on me.” Calling out behind his back, he says, “Two original spiedies.” Turning back to us, he asks, “Two Cokes with that?”

  “Coke Zero for me and for the lady . . .” Andrew gestures me to answer.

  What the hell is going on right now? I’m so confused as to why this guy is being so nice to us, why he’s put up with Andrew’s dramatics with a line behind us.

  “Uh, Sprite.”

  “We’ve got a Sprite girl,” the man says, walking away to grab our drinks. I glance up at Andrew who just smiles down at me. “All right, here we go, two spiedies, a Coke Zero and a Sprite. Have a good time.” Looking at me, the man says, “And, sweetheart, give my boy Andrew a break. Even if his jokes are cheesy, laugh for him.”

  Gah, they know each other.

  “Thanks, Hal.” Andrew shakes Hal’s hand, grabs our items, and walks me toward the stands.

  Silent for a second, Andrew squeezes my hand. “Come on, not even a little snicker?”

  “That was a bit elaborate.”

  “Elaborate? I was thinking more on the lines of smooth.”

  “Is that how you pick up girls? Talk about dry humping them in front of strangers only to score free spiedies? Does that really work?”

  “You tell me, you’re the one still holding my hand, batting those impossible eyelashes at me.”

  “I am not batting my eyelashes. It’s called blinking.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s got my butt tingling.” He does a little hop in place and shivers.

  I laugh out loud from his ridiculous nature. I can’t hold it back. I have to give him that one.

  “Fuck, yes!” He fist-pumps our clasped hands. “Damn, Sadie, you just made my night.” He lifts our joint connection to his lips and gently kisses the back of my hand as he looks down at me. And what I see in his eyes is something I don’t think I’ve seen before. He doesn’t know me, but he’s taking time to change that. As if the thought of not knowing me is intolerable. He asked what I wanted, rather than presuming. He wants to connect . . . with me. Know me.

  Oh shit. My stomach just flipped itself upside down.

  I really might be in trouble.

  Chapter Eleven

  SADIE

  “I still can’t believe you got a black eye.” I shake my head at Andrew who’s holding an ice pack to his face, trying to grip my hand as we walk out to his truck.

  “Worth it, baby.” Releasing my hand, he snags the game ball out of his back pocket and flips it in his hand. “Tripping over that seventy-year-old man to catch a foul ball, only to slam my face on a chair armrest? All worth it because I have this little guy. I’m just lucky my glasses fell off before I went eye first into the seat.”

  “You could have gotten it without tripping over that old man and spilling his Cracker Jacks.”

  “I purchased him a new box.” He did, which was actually quite sweet. “And there was no way I could have gotten the ball before that little punk in the red polo if I hadn’t climb over the old man. Did you see the trajectory and spin on that thing? The way it flew off the bat and the angle, it would have never made it up to our seats. The Cracker Jacks had to take a hit so I could get a prize.”

  “What a sad day for Cracker Jacks,” I reply. Conversation with Andrew is so easy, so fun, so light. I’ve never experienced this easygoing banter with a guy before; it almost feels unnatural, but right at the same time, if that makes any sense.

  Once we get to his truck, he fishes out the keys from his pocket and unlocks my door. He helps me in, like the gentleman that he is, but then turns me around in the bench seat so I’m facing him, his body between my legs.

  His hand still ices his eye just under his glasses, and he asks, “Did you have a good time, Sadie?”

  I did and despite my initial nerves and reservations, I’m not surprised I had a good time. That was a given. I’m learning that the man is electric in everything he does. But I am surprised about one thing. I was able to actually let an outsider into my little circle. I’m surprised I haven’t pushed him away every chance I’ve had, and I’m incredibly amazed I want to hang out with him again.

  “I did. Thank you.” I hook my fingers through his belt loops and pull him closer. Dropping the ice pack on the floor of his truck, he grips the top of the doorframe, his shirt rising on his biceps, giving me a great view of his strong arms and tapered waist. Flashes of last night and this morning run through my mind: Andrew with his shirt off, Andrew with sexy morning hair, Andrew with his almighty forearms helping me rock back and forth on his erection. My body ignites. I’m hot for the nerd.

  Trying to avoid the temptation of sticking my hand down his pants—yes, that’s where my hormones are heading right now—I reach up and gently touch his face. “Is your eye okay?”

  He shrugs it off. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Unless you want to play naughty nurse, then ouch, my eye!” He hovers his hand over his face, which makes me laugh.

  “You would like that, wouldn’t you? Me waiting on you hand and foot—”

  “Preferably while wearing nothing would be awesome.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  “Not going to happen.” My fingers are still hooked through the loops of his jeans as he stares down at me, the street lamp providing the only light near us.

  “You’re crushing a man’s dream here, Sadie.”

  “I think you’ll survive.”

  He leans even closer now, still holding the doorframe. “I’m not sure. With the head trauma I’ve sustained tonight and not having anyone to nurse me to health, I might possibly face death in the near future. My well-being uncertain for the coming morning.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned dying today.”

  On
e of his hands snakes around my neck and pulls me closer. “Do you see what you do to me? I’m on the verge of death every second you’re around, teetering in balance, wondering and waiting to see if you’ll press those luscious lips against mine, saving me from the darkness tapping me on the shoulder.”

  I shake my head, and a silent chuckle is released. “What happened to the shy guy from work? I think I liked you better when you weren’t so smooth with your words.”

  “Yeah?” He inches even closer, pulling me in. “Why’s that?”

  “Because,” his lips are so close, I can almost taste him, “you were easier to resist.”

  “Hmm. Note to self: always act like an overconfident douche around Sadie.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, his lips descend on mine, locking me in, giving me no other option but to melt into the feeling of his lips caressing mine. Not that I would want to be doing anything else right now. He just has a way of sucking me into his little world where nothing will be able to harm me.

  Demanding, more demanding than this morning, his tongue runs along the seam of my lips, begging for entrance. I don’t give it to him right away; instead, I make him work for it. I make his lips work for it. Groaning ever so slightly from the back of his throat, he maneuvers his mouth over mine, making the most of my closed lips, tempting me with open-mouth kisses until I can’t take it anymore. Is there really any choice?

  When my tongue touches his, he groans even louder and releases his grip from the door so he can cup my face. His delectable body presses right against mine.

  The first time I met Andrew, never in my wildest dreams would I have pegged him to be the kind of man who could bring me to my knees with one kiss. But he’s proven me wrong with the delectable way he works his tongue against mine, and with the way his lips connect in the sexiest way possible.

  There’s no question about it; he’s dangerous.

  Wet, demanding, unyielding kisses wrap me up into a little Andrew cocoon, one I couldn’t imagine leaving. Having Andrew wrapped around me, the way his thumbs rub my cheeks as his tongue dives around against mine, the delicious press of his lower half against mine, the sexy little moans that rumble up the back of his throat . . . it’s euphoria.

  I move my fingers into his waistband, and from that little touch, he shoots off me, putting at least a foot of distance between us. Visibly shaken, he runs his hand through his perfectly styled hair and stares at me through his eyelashes, a slight lift to the corner of his mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, a little stupefied from his abrupt movement.

  “Uh, I was getting a little too excited. Popping a boner in public, under a bridge, where Joe Hobo lays his head to rest, doesn’t really scream sexy to me.”

  Chuckling, I shake my head. “Yeah, not so much.”

  Coming closer again, he takes my hand and kisses the back of it sweetly. “Would you like to come back to my place?”

  That question—the way he asks it—slays me. There is boyish hope in his eyes, as if this is the first time he’s ever asked a girl back to his place, which I know can’t possibly be true, not from the intimate moments I’ve had with him. Still, there is something so sweet and pure about him that I find myself nodding.

  “Yeah?” he asks, that megawatt smile filling his face.

  “Yeah, but get in the car and start driving before I change my mind.”

  I position my body properly in my seat as Andrew goes to shut the door but not before he slips his large frame into my portion of the cab, cups my cheek and kisses me hard, sending my heart into a tailspin of lust for this man who doesn’t hesitate showing affection.

  I’m left with no time to react. Just as fast as he leaned in to kiss me, he’s now shutting my door and jogging around to his side. When he hops in the truck, he clicks his seatbelt in and then nods for me to come closer while patting the middle seat.

  “Come on, Sugar Britches, hop on over.”

  “You want me to sit in the middle seat?” I ask, incredulously.

  “Hell yeah, I do. Now get that perfect ass of yours over here so I can drive with you tucked under my arm.” Tugging on my arm, he helps me clear the space between us. I fasten my seatbelt and allow him to scoop me closer into his chest.

  Tucked right up against him, “Standing Outside The Fire” playing in the background, Andrew drives us through the streets of Binghamton to his house, singing quietly and never letting go of me.

  ***

  “You’re kidding, right?” I ask, looking down at his bed. “That’s a twin bed.”

  “Yup,” Andrew says with a casual smile, leaning against the door of his room.

  “How do you even fit in something like that? Your feet have to hang off the end.”

  He shrugs. “Eh, you get used to it. It’s not all that bad.”

  Spinning around, I take in the little space of his room and look back up at him. “This room is tiny, but I appreciate that you made enough room for a life-size Derek Jeter cutout. That’s dedication.”

  “Thank you.” He bows like an idiot, but it makes me smile.

  “Although, I do have to address something with you.”

  “Yeah?” He walks up to me and places his hands on my hips. “Does it have to do with how we’re not in PJs snuggling each other in my little twin bed?”

  “No.” I chuckle. “But I get now why you wanted to come here, trying to get all handsy on me.”

  “Can’t blame me. I woke up this morning thinking your boob was a playful orange, and I’ve become addicted. So I need to know, do they taste like an orange too?”

  “No.” I playfully swat him, which he takes like a champ and brings me in closer.

  “Baby, I’ll be the judge of that, but please tell me what you have to address.”

  God, the smooth timbre of his voice makes me feel so warm, his arms feel like home when I’m in them, and I’m surprised his gentle teasing doesn’t bother me. Where did he come from?

  Clearing my throat, trying not to turn into a puddle under his stare, I say, “Well, from the looks of it, you really are a nerd.”

  “How so?” he asks, a little pinch to his brow.

  I point to his wall. “You have a poster of math equations on your wall.”

  He turns to look at said poster and then gives me a knowing smirk. “It’s nice to have a quick reference on your wall when calculating things.”

  “And you also have three computers on your desk.”

  “Why have one when you can have three?” He shrugs casually.

  “And you have four different Rubik’s Cubes on your dresser.”

  He glances in that direction. “Ever heard about keeping your mind from turning into mush? I don’t want to be that old person who doesn’t remember how to wash his own dick.”

  “Okay, I can understand that, but can you please explain to me why you have three frames on your wall with pictures of Albert Einstein, Bill Gates, and,” I lean forward to get a better look, “Steve Urkel?”

  Cringing slightly, he doesn’t even bother to take in the picture I’m talking about. “I would like to say someone gave that to me, but I printed those pictures myself. Three men, all geniuses, all celebrities in their own right. It’s nice to model yourself after such strong, intelligent, and confident men.”

  In disbelief, I say, “All right, but if you start wearing cuffed jeans with suspenders, this little thing we have going on is done.”

  Taking pause, he thinks about my statement before nodding his head in approval. “I can agree to that. But are you opposed to red-framed glasses that almost look like goggles?” he asks, referring to Steve Urkel’s horrendous glasses.

  “Very much so.”

  Making note, he says, “Locked that one in the memory vault.” He kisses me on the forehead quickly before heading to his dresser where he pulls out a T-shirt. A T-shirt that just happens to have a monkey wearing glasses holding a pen, writing out a math equation on the front. Honestly, this man. “You can have the bath
room first.”

  With a wink, he shoves me in the right direction where I spend a few minutes getting ready for bed using the spare toothbrush he has lying around. He takes no time at all getting ready and before I know it, we are both squeezing into this twin bed where his feet completely dangle off the end.

  Facing each other now, Andrew shirtless and only wearing a pair of shorts, and me in his T-shirt that falls to the tops of my knees, we talk.

  Odd at first, it’s hard for me to comprehend how incredibly easy this feels, cuddling with Andrew, lying in his bed, just talking. I’ve only done this with one other man, Tucker, but it’s never felt this easy, this comfortable . . . this right.

  Snuggling in close, reveling in the feel of his body pressed against mine, I ask, “How did you find this place and where are your roommates?”

  “Summer break. The girls are all on the women’s basketball team and are from different countries: Latvia, Finland, and France. There is one American, so at least I won’t be the only one lost. This was the only decent place I could find on such short notice.”

  “You’re living with five other girls?” My mind can’t fathom what that would be like.

  “Yeah.” His hand rides up my thigh, lifting my shirt with it where he settles on my hip, gripping me tightly. “You jealous?” His voice is playful, so I know he’s joking.

  “No. I’m actually worried for you. Do you know what it’s going to be like living with five women? You’re going to be in hell.”

  “I’m quite aware of the danger that rests before me, but like I said, it was last minute, and I had no other decent options.”

  “Last minute? You keep saying that. What made you transfer so late? Did you not like your old school?”

  His breathing starts to pick up and from his brief silence, I know I’ve struck a chord. Not that I really want to be talking about school at this moment, given my situation, but I’m curious why he was so late on the housing search. What detained him? What made him transfer?

  “Uh,” his thumb rubs along my skin as he tries to find the right words to say, “I kind of had this thing happen at my other school. Thought it would be best if I transferred rather than stayed.”