Confessions of a Heartbreaker (2 page)

I want to grin but I suspect that will only piss her off more.  So I do my best to rein it in before saying, "Look, it's just beer. I promise, it'll come out. Just soak it in some Woolite when you get home tonight, it'll be fine."

She arches a brow. "And you know this how?"

"Um, because girls are like always spilling their beer on me." Rolling my eyes, I give her my best drama queen voice (FYI- I have lots of experience with girls acting like this which is yet another reason for my strict no girlfriend policy). "I can't even tell you how many times some rude chick has ruined one of my favorite sweaters."

Now this is the part where she's supposed to chuckle or crack a smile or do something. 
Something
to show that she's not totally immune to me.  Or my charismatic charm.  Or my handsome good looks.  Or my huge bulging biceps.  Instead, she just levels a hard, uncomfortable stare at me.

Did I happen to mention the uncomfortable part?

Yeah, this is definitely starting to feel awkward.

There is absolutely no change in her facial expression (not even a twitch) which has me feeling like a real dumbass right about now. And I'll be honest with you, I'm not used to feeling like that when it comes to interacting with the opposite sex.  "Wow, really?
Nothing?
You're one tough crowd."

"It's almost difficult to believe that your sad attempt at a joke was even lamer than your apology... but it was.

Ouch.  Talk about being bitch slapped into next week…

Feeling like I'm on strangely shaky ground, I hold out the towel as a peace offering. She yanks it quickly from my hand before staring down at what I now understand to be her favorite sweater.

"It's everywhere."  A soft puff of air leaves her lips as if she's at a loss.  "I don't even know where to begin."

Okay, so here's what happens next- and yeah... it's not good.  And by
not good
, I actually mean
terrible
.  Before I can stop myself, (AKA-
consider my actions and therefore the ramifications of said actions
) I’m plucking the towel out of her hand before going to town on the wet material now pressed up against her delectable little body.

Now, if I’d thought she was frowning before… well, I was wrong.

And I mean really wrong because in the moment that it takes for my hand to breech her no fly zone, her lips sink even further into what I can only describe as an angry slash as she silently watches me from eyes so narrowed, they're practically slits.

"I'm starting to think you purposefully spilled that beer just so you could cop a cheap feel."

I snort.

Well, I guess I am
technically
copping a feel. But anything I'm actually
feeling
is minimal at best. She certainly can't compete with Natalie in the tits department. For some bizarre reason I feel the need to throw this girl off her game, just like she's inexplicably done to me. Even though I know it's a completely jerky thing to do, I give her chest a long leering look. I even squint for good measure, before dragging my eyes back up to hers.

There.  Now
that
ought to be enough to shut her down.

Most chicks hate to have their breasts ogled, which is actually kind of laughable. Not to mention confusing, because they're the first ones to wear the tiniest, tightest scrapes of fabric they can find in their closet and call it a shirt. Then they have the audacity to get mad when we gawk.  Yeah, I don’t get it either.

Word to the wise- if you're going to stare at a girl's boobs, do it covertly. Otherwise it's sexual harassment.

I don’t quite know what's gotten into me but I don't like that this girl’s not responding the way females usually do when they’re around me.  So, I add the kicker.  "There's not exactly a lot to cop, if you know what I mean."

Looking completely unaffected by everything that has just occurred, she glances down at her own chest and contemplates it for a long moment. "Yep, I'm aware of the boob situation going on but thanks for pointing it out to me, Parker, or should I just call you- Captain Obvious?"

Hmm...  That wasn’t exactly the reaction I was going for.

Seriously, who is this girl anyway?

Because right now I'm feeling confused and I don't like it. Not one damn bit.

I need to decide quickly how I'm going to play this situation.

And her.

Unfortunately I'm drawing blanks right now. It's like my brain has gone on a temporary hiatus. I’m going to be completely honest with you, usually my interactions with the females are light and teasingly easy. I'm full of compliments with a few lingering touches thrown in for good measure. And most importantly, I'm the one in control of the conversation. I'm the one who decides how the situation will unfold.

This has gone exactly the
opposite
of that and now I'm the one who's been left feeling tongue tied and unsure. Nope, I definitely don't like this at all.

My eyes roam over her face while I wait for my brain to finally click back into gear. But I can't just stand here like a dumbass, I have to say something. Maybe if I can figure out who she is, I can get this capsized conversation back on track.

"Let me save you the trouble, Parker Montgomery, because I can see the little hamster wheel spinning in your head. You don't know me. And frankly, because of your rather man whore-ish reputation, I'm okay with that. You're like a walking advertisement for STD's.  One I’ll be passing on."

I think my chin just hit the cement.

Holy crap.

Did this girl seriously just say that to me?

I have to admit that I'm sort of blown away.
Man whore?
I'm not a
man whore
. I mean, sure I've been with a number of girls, but does that necessarily make me a
man whore
?  Is someone who guzzles a shit ton of wine necessarily an alcoholic?  Hell no, we call them wine connoisseurs.  Well, I just so happen to consider myself a connoisseur of females (only hot banging chicks need apply).  That doesn’t necessarily make me a man whore, does it?  I didn’t think so.

Still gaping at her like a fish out of water (because yeah, I can actually feel it), all I seem capable of doing is staring at her feeling totally...
damn it
!

I can't even adequately explain how I'm feeling right now. The only thing I seem capable of doing is hoisting my cup to my lips and taking a great big gulp of beer.

I have to admit that this has not exactly been one of my finest Parker moments. Not by a long shot.

But like I said, this girl has somehow thrown me completely off my game. And that usually doesn’t happen to me.  Like ever.  I'm hoping the beer will help me get my mojo back. Liquid courage or something like that. I don't even know anymore. Just as I open my mouth to fire back some cutting retort, she beats me to the punch.

"Listen, this little meet and greet has been really fun, but I've got to take off."

What?

Does she really think that I'm just going to let her walk away from me?

Oh. Hell. No.

No one calls me a man whore,
to my face no less
, and then just ends the conversation.

Wait a minute... she's already gone.

I blink, again feeling confused by how this whole situation just played out. What the hell just happened here? How did she manage to turn the tables so completely on me? She's at least a good five steps away and is getting further by the second. For just a moment I find myself distracted by the swing of her slim hips as she strides towards the house before I have the good sense to take off after her.

Who the hell is this girl?

I don't even know her name. It never occurred to me to ask. I'm also fairly sure that I've never seen her around before. Wouldn't I remember a face like that? And she was so tiny… like a... a... a
pixie
or something small and cute like that. All that blond hair and cool green eyes. I would have definitely remembered seeing someone like her around.

Wouldn't I?

Just as I hit the sliding glass doors, Marissa Sandberg bounces her way directly into my path. Her long auburn curls tumble around her shoulders as she hurtles herself into my arms. She's damn lucky I have quick reflexes or that little gymnastics stunt would have left an ugly mark.

"Parker, I was just coming to find you!  And look, here you are!"

She squeals this information as if fate has somehow propelled her straight into my waiting arms when really this is a smallish type house party with about fifty or so people, where the odds of her eventually finding me are in her favor. My eyes dart around the dimly lit kitchen and family room searching for the blond girl I spilled beer on.

No- wait...

The blond girl who
slammed
into me, making
me
spill my beer on her. Yes, the fault totally lies with her, not me. In all actuality, I was an innocent bystander in all this.

Now, I just need to find her so I tell her that.

Marissa clings to me like a baby recess monkey. Luckily she doesn't weigh much so I'm still able to keep pushing forward.

"Parker, I am like, so totally wasted!"

Just as she dissolves into a fit of giggles, her nimble fingers start roaming over my body. They're combing through my hair. Stroking over my face. Sliding under my shirt. Did she just tweak my nipple?

Jeez. This chick needs to seriously calm herself down.

But her words leave me feeling fairly concerned because the last thing I need is for Marissa to puke all over me. Doing a quick assessment, I search her eyes. Hmmm. She doesn't really
look
all that drunk. But then again, she is acting fairly loud and obnoxious so maybe she's tanked after all. Who can tell? I'll just have to throw her off me if it looks like all that beer is going to make an unexpected encore appearance.

"I'm so tired of this party.  Let's go somewhere else- just you and me." She smiles up at me. I'm sure the slow curving of her lips is supposed to come off as seductive and sexy but right now it just looks practiced.  And, strangely enough, it's doing absolutely nothing for me.

Honestly, I just want this girl off me. All she's doing is getting in my way. I'm on a mission to find the mystery girl who made me spill my beer.

Hold on... squinting, I tilt my head to the left, then the right trying to catch another glimpse of blond hair moving through the crowd.

I'm pretty sure that's her by the front door. I want to call out, to stop her from leaving. For some odd reason I want to finish our absurd conversation out by the keg but how can I do that? How can I capture her attention from way over here? There has to be about twenty people milling around between us. And the music is blasting.  People are laughing and talking.  I can barely hear myself think over all this noise.

I'm wondering how to detach Marissa-the-barnacle from my body when her arms snake around my neck. Man, this chick is way stronger than she looks. Just as she's dragging my face to hers, I see blond beer girl turn and look straight at me. I open my mouth to yell something at her. Something that will stop her from leaving but Marissa plasters her lips against mine.  All I can do is hold Beer Girl's eyes.

She smirks in return as if to say-
see, total man whore
.

And then the moment is over and she's gone.

I can't believe this.

Beer Girl is gone.

I don't even know her name.

I'm not sure why that bothers me, but it does. And the fact that it bothers me, bothers me even more. Because this is not normal Parker Montgomery behavior. This has definitely been one bizarre interlude. Maybe it's for the best that it's over. I really need things to slide back to normal because right now, I'm feeling fairly unsettled.

"Parker," Marissa kisses my mouth again, "why are you frowning like that?"

Tired of being ignored, Marissa lays both of her palms against my cheeks before snapping my face back to hers. Satisfied that she's fully hijacked my attention, she adds in a voice that sounds suspiciously toddler-ish, "I thought you liked my kisses." She gives me a pouty face to go along with her words.

I can literally feel my brows drawing together as I stare at her. Under normal circumstances, I do enjoy Marissa's kisses. She's an excellent kisser. Definitely a top ten in my book. She doesn't use too much suction. And she keeps her saliva to a minimum. I absolutely hate both of those things. Who wants to feel as if someone is trying to suck the tonsils right out of their body? I sure as hell don't. And frankly the thought of someone else's saliva pooling in my mouth just about makes me gag. Maybe I'm a little particular about the way I like being kissed but those two things are total deal breakers for me.

She flutters her long mascara laden lashes as she continues to coo in a soft baby voice, "Don't you want to take me home tonight?"

Ah, not if she's going to continue talking to me like that, I don't.