Arran rolled his eyes again and strode through the gaggle of tables
towards the sub shop counter. As he crossed the room, he saw her.
The girl. She sat religiously through each boring art lecture,
taking notes and hazarding glances in his direction. Warmth flooded
his cheeks. Few women actually looked his way. Most dismissed him
long before they got to know him. He had a great style and a nice
voice, but was Nate seeing anyone? His best friend. Some would be
put off with the constant barrage of questions concerning Nate. As
long as it wasn’t men asking, Arran didn’t care. He happily directed
the girls into Nate’s view and sat back to watch the fireworks.
But with this girl...he wanted to watch what
could happen and not with Nate. Arran Mayes wanted the action,
excitement...he wanted a girl. At least to get to know her name and
find out what the fuss was about. Maybe get her phone number. What
made her smile. Whoa. He needed a good fuck, that’s what the
attraction was. A bodily response to someone good looking. He shoved
the burgeoning desire aside in his mind.
Focus on lunch.
He took his place at the back of the line. What if the attraction
wasn’t a lack of sex? He appraised her from afar. Nice hips. Enough
to grasp during a roll in the sheets. Holy fuck. Where’d those
thoughts come from? Blood flowed to his cock and he shifted his
weight to relieve the pressure. Shock, yes, she had to be a shock to
his system. A glitch.
Thick blonde hair dusted the middle of her back and the fleeting
scent of vanilla wafted to him. His mouth watered. Was she into hair
He shook his head. God, biology was a bitch. Here he was thinking
about sex, walking away, and what to do to make her scream during
sex. Somewhere between art history and lunch something came unglued.
She liked sub sandwiches and that little nugget of info stoked his
He shook his head again. Enough, fantasizing about things he didn’t
A guy behind her struck up a conversation. “What’cha having today,
Arran tipped his head. Nice name. He strained to hear her answer.
Please let her be one of those girls
who ate, not picked at food.
“Pastrami. Same old, same old.”
Arran chuckled. Simple. He liked simple and wonderful--men. He
forked his fingers into his hair. The feelings weren’t dissipating.
Damn it. He liked guys, so why her and why now? He tore his
attention from Min and glanced in Sav’s direction. He lusted after
men...dark men, brooding men. Guys like Nate and Sav. Not women. He
loved the feel of a man’s pecs and pebbled nipples crushed against
his chest, not the pillow of women’s breasts. Fuck, he’d never even
dated a girl.
The scent of vanilla swirled around him. Arran turned as Min
strolled past, sandwich in hand. His mouth watered. For the pastrami
or her? His brain whirled with confusion and glee. He had to talk to
her and get to know the vixen of Art History. As strange as it felt
to be intrigued by her, it also seemed...oddly okay. He forfeited
his place in line and followed her to her table.
“Hello. Min, is it? I’m Arran. I wondered if I might sit with you?”