“She’s seen Pitch Perfect way too many times,” Jade mumbles, making me laugh. Her cheeks flush pink. “And ignore her use of protection line.”

“Why? I always use protection.” I shove my hands in my pockets so I won’t make a grab for her because having her this close is doing something to me. Making me want to grab her and do inappropriate things to her.

“Right. Of course you do.” She glances at me, her cheeks still flushed, her eyes full of fire. “Not that there’ll be any need for protection tonight, considering we’re not going to have sex.”

Disappointment crashes over me and I push it aside. She just threw down the first challenge of the evening. “You’ve already got the entire night all figured out, huh?”

She nods as we make our way down the hall toward the front entrance. Swear to God the doors swing open as we pass, girls peeking their heads out, mouths agape. As if they knew I was going to make an appearance tonight and all my adoring fans showed up to see me. It’s annoying. It’s freaking nerve wracking because if one of them is someone I’ve been with before, and she opens her mouth and says something…I’m screwed.

Jade will leave me in the dust. And I haven’t even kissed her yet.

I really, really want to kiss her. Those lips…are the stuff of fantasies. Plump and full, her upper lip a little puffier than the bottom one, and slicked in a flattering pink color that isn’t too glossy. When their lips are covered with that sparkly shiny shit, it’s not pleasant to kiss. At all.

But I would love to kiss all that lipstick off her mouth. Breathe deep her scent. Run my lips down the length of her neck. Wrap her hair in my hand and tug the slightest bit, make her gasp, make her moan, make her pull me in closer…

“I don’t put out on the first date,” she says haughtily, her nose tilting upward. Snobby you can’t touch me waves radiate off her but I see right through them.

It’s a front. A form of protection. A wall she believes will keep me from scaling over and getting to the true Jade.

Yet another challenge. I almost want to rub my hands together and tell her I’m ready to start the climb. Though she’d probably take it the wrong way and slap my face.

“That’s a shame,” I say with a heavy sigh. She shoots me a look and I smile at her, reaching out to push open the door as I come to a stop. “Ladies first.”

She studies me, her gaze roaming all over me and my skin goes hot. What does she see? I wish I knew. Or maybe I don’t want to know. “Thank you,” she murmurs as she exits the building, giving me a prime view of her ass in that too short skirt and holy shit, I’ve never been so turned on by the back of a girl’s thighs in my life. They’re slender and pale and I narrow my eyes, looking for a birthmark. A scar. A mole. Something I can remember those thighs by.

And then I see it. See them. A scattering of freckles on the back of her right thigh, they remind me of stars.

He took me a to a shack for dinner.

Okay fine, it’s by the beach so he gets points for that. The moment I emerged from his car—ignoring his offered arm for me to take after he opened the passenger side door for me, so he could escort me to the restaurant like some old world duke of something or other, all proper and gentleman-like when we all know he’s not a gentleman whatsoever. But anyway, I could smell the salty air, the wind whipping my hair in front of my face and I silently gave him points for location choice.

I’m not impressed by the front of the restaurant—shack—that he’s brought me to. It’s a wooden structure that almost looks dilapidated, like it might crumble at any given moment. The roof looks like it’s constructed out of a piece of rippled metal and I think of that stupid song by the B-52s my parents used to play when I was a kid. Love Shack.

Tin roof! Rusted.

Shep is perceptive, I’ll give him that. I must’ve given off an apprehensive vibe because he settles my hand on my lower back, his fingers suspiciously close to that gap where my shirt has ridden up from my skirt. I shed my sweater, my cloak of defense, in his car. It was so hot in there and I swear he planned it, though I never really felt the heater blasting on me or anything like that.

Maybe sitting so close to him in his car made me…hot. Like every other pitiful girl who meets him, who spends time with him alone. In his car. I was halfway disappointed he didn’t try and jump me when we pulled into the parking lot and he shut off the engine.

So lame. I don’t want him to jump me. I already told him there’s no need for condoms tonight since he wasn’t going to get a piece of this. Forget it. I’m nervous enough. I don’t need to worry about my lack of sexual experience at the possibility of getting naked with a guy like him.

But think of all that experience he has. All the things he could do to you. Teach you. He snuck his hand up your skirt and you weren’t even aware of it. Imagine all the possibilities!

I banish the hopeful thoughts running through my mind to the very darkest recesses of my brain.

“This place doesn’t look like much but trust me. The food is awesome,” Shep murmurs close to my ear as we enter the building.

“What if I’m allergic to shellfish?” I ask, batting my eyelashes at him when he turns to me, horror etched in his handsome features.

He clears his throat, his gaze locked on mine. “Are you?”

Slowly I shake my head, smiling. “No. But next time, you should probably ask.”

“Next time I won’t need to ask because I’ll already know,” he says, frowning at me.

“I mean next time. When you bring another girl to this restaurant,” I correct, hating the cold ball that seems to have formed in my stomach at the idea of Shep bringing another girl here. A girl that will come after me, because one will, I don’t need to fool myself.

But I don’t necessarily need to think about her at this exact moment in time either.

He stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind and for a moment, I wonder if I have. Or maybe I have something on my face. Maybe there’s a smudge of mascara beneath my eye (I told Kelli not to put it on so thick) or maybe I have lipstick on my teeth. Crap, I don’t know. This guy makes me feel so self-conscious it’s almost painful.

Shep doesn’t say a word. He shakes his head and steps over to the hostess stand, telling the older woman who’s blatantly ogling him that he’d like a table for two.

As discreetly as possible I press my index finger to the corner of my right eye and wipe, then look at it. No black smudge. I do the same to my left eye but there’s no mascara there either. Licking my lips, I dart out my tongue, touching the corner before I wipe at it with my thumb, taking away a little lipstick but nothing major.

“What are you doing?”

I glance up to find Shep watching me very carefully. Almost too carefully. I stand up taller and drop my hand away from my face but otherwise I say nothing. How can I explain myself? I’d end up sounding ridiculous.

He leans in closer and bends down, his mouth almost level with my ear and I hear him murmur, “You look beautiful. Stop fidgeting.”

Pleasure blooms in my chest, spreads through my limbs at his compliment. I should be offended he said stop fidgeting like I’m a child but I’m too focused on the words that preceded that comment.