Lumbersexual (Novella) Read Online Free

haven’t seen—”
    “You’re that new?”
    I nodded.
    “That’s unacceptable.”  He narrowed his eyes at me, but they stayed bright.
    Was he mad at me or was he just messing with me?  Court was hard to read.  Also distracting.  With really, really mesmerizing eyes.
    Ian looked at both of us and burped.  “I, uh, need to go to talk to Matt.”  Flustered by Tattoo Man, I’d forgotten that Ian was standing there, and apparently so had Court.  Judging by how Ian wobbled, I knew I’d be the one to drive us home.  With a strange look on his face, Ian took off.  Court’s beard hid what I thought was a twitch in his cheek.
    Finally, I spoke.  “I just got here today.  It will take hours to do the tourist thing.  I’ll go as soon as I can.  I want to see it so badly.  Give me a break.”
    Court shook his head.  “No way.  No breaks.  Top priority.”
    “I will.  Sheesh.”  Then I had a flirty idea.  Maybe he’d be good for some fun this summer.  I could do casual.  It would be better than what I had been doing, which was not much .  Even if he was a fuckboy, maybe I needed a fuckboy.
    Gathering my courage, I challenged him with what I hoped was a smile and not a grimace, and I wrapped a curl of my hair around my finger.  “Let’s go now.  You can be my tour guide.”
    He looked at me hard, but I saw something in his striking eyes.  Like he was fighting with himself.  “I can’t.”
    And just like that I was friend-zoned.  
    Dammit.  
    He did it to me before I could do it to him.  I’d misinterpreted.  
    Like always.  Maggie, our best bud.  The one to hang with, but who never fit in.
    Then I started giving myself a talking-to.  Not twenty-four hours in a new place and I was already obsessed with the wrong guy.  I knew better than that.
    Unfortunately, this was typical behavior for me.  Since my high school boyfriend broke up with me to go to college, for the past four years, my M.O. was to crush hard on guys in class and misread the signals, only to learn that they weren’t interested in me that way.
    Examples:
    One.  A dark haired hottie in Statistics, the one who deejayed at the campus radio station and dressed like he was in the city, not a podunk college town.  When he smiled at me, I thought he liked me.  I made sure to sit so that I would have him in view, if not right next to him.  Weeks went by of us smiling at each other.  But when he finally spoke to me, he’d asked if he could borrow a pencil.  And nothing else after that.
    Two.  A Prince Harry lookalike, who did pull-ups at the gym like he was lifting the weight of a single dry leaf.  For months, he’d talked to me after I swam my laps.  And I thought it was only a matter of time before he wanted to go get pizza and beer.  
    He’d just wanted to know if I had the English Literature assignment.
    And so on.  I always fell completely for my crushes.  I always wanted more.  I’d give them anything, anything to talk to them.  Let them borrow my car, copy my notes, use my laptop.
    But the guys I was into weren’t into me.  And the ones who were into me, I wasn’t into.
    So was I doing it again?  
    Yep.
    Guys either saw me as a friend or a fling.  Nothing more.  
    It was clear how he saw me.
    Bitter disappointment crashed over me and my cheeks burned, embarrassed for getting shut down so fast.  I opened my mouth to apologize for asking, or to distract him with a joke, but he cocked his head to the side and said, “You drinking?”
    “A little.”
    “Grab a beer and come outside.”  Not a request.  I felt his voice go down my spine and lodge deep inside me, and found myself compelled to do what he said.  
    I went over and grabbed a bottle of Rolling Rock, and tried to gather my thoughts, but it was difficult given how much he smelled like a male body wash ad on TV.
    Not that you can smell an ad on television.
    You know what I mean.
    What was it with this guy?  I was smart and I prided