rebound hookup? Everyone needs a rebound hookup, right?
I make my way across the room and sit down next to him on Isabella’s bed.
“Where,” Nigel asks, lowering his eyes, “did you come from?”
I’m not sure if he means right now, or like, you know, into his life. So I just smile in what I hope is a mysterious way.
And then Nigel leans over and bites my lip. Wow. I’ve never had my lip bitten before. Not that I’ve had tons ofhookups and tons of, um, chances to get my lip bitten. And not that it’s horrible, getting your lip bitten. It’s just … different. I decide maybe I should try to bite him back, but then his lips are on mine, and we’re kissing.
Nigel’s a good kisser. Not too soft, not too firm. He smells good, like cigarette smoke mixed with cologne—spicy and hot. He puts his hands into my hair and pulls me closer and then we’re lying on the bed, and I can’t believe it, but I am making out with Nigel Rickson! I let my fingers wander around the back of his neck and sort of … melt into him.
Hmm. Maybe there’s something to this whole rebound thing after all. Or maybe I judged Nigel too harshly. I mean, I did like him once, and who said he can’t be a good boyfriend? He’d be at least a much better boyfriend than Cooper. Although Cooper was a good boyfriend while he was my boyfriend, he was just faking it. And someone who’s being real is a much better boyfriend than someone who is faking, no matter how amazing the faker is being.
Anyway, the point is that maybe Nigel
could
actually be my boyfriend, if I would just give him a chance, or he could at least be someone to hook up with more than once, not on a dare or anything, but—
Ooh. What was … ? Oh. Uh-oh. Nigel is getting a little, um, worked up.
He pulls me closer into him, and his mouth is on mine, but now he’s a little more … insistent.
“Hey, hey,” I say, pulling away and sitting up. I smooth my hair down. “Um, Nigel … let’s … why don’t we just chill out for a second.”
Nigel looks upset, but then looks like he thinks better of it. “Why?” he says. He sits up and starts kissing my neck, and his mouth feels soft and warm against my skin. “Why do you want to chill out? Doesn’t this feel good?”
“Ye-es,” I say honestly. “But, um, I don’t want … I mean, shouldn’t we slow down a little bit?”
“Slow down?” Suddenly Nigel pulls back and looks at me like he’s been slapped. “What do you mean, ‘slow down’?”
“You know, slow down.” He’s stopped kissing my neck now, and I move a little closer to him, but he’s not having it.
“I am not,” he says forcefully, “a premature ejaculator.” He looks at the floor and shakes his head.
“Oh, no!” I say quickly. “I don’t think you’re a … a premature ejaculator!”
“You don’t?” he looks up at me. “Because I don’t play that.”
“No, I know you don’t,” I say. Geez. Talk about being defensive. Although. Now that I think about it, I do remember this rumor going around last year, something about Nigel and Hannah Rutherford, about how he got all worked up while they were making out and then he totally ruined her new comforter by—
There’s a knock on the door and Nigel and I look at each other.
“Who is it?” I say.
“Yeah, who’s there?” Nigel wants to know.
“It’s Cooper,” Cooper says. Probably coming to check up on me and see if I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.
Nigel looks at me. I shrug.
“Who?”
he asks.
“Cooper Marriatti.” The sound of the doorknob rattling fills the room. I didn’t realize that Nigel locked the door. I’m not sure if I’m scared, flattered, or surprised that Nigel would think to do that.
“The room’s full, dude,” Nigel says. “Find your own.” He smiles at me and I smile back tentatively.
But Cooper keeps knocking. “Eliza?” he asks. “Are you okay?”
Nigel looks at me. “That’s your man?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
I make my way across the room and sit down next to him on Isabella’s bed.
“Where,” Nigel asks, lowering his eyes, “did you come from?”
I’m not sure if he means right now, or like, you know, into his life. So I just smile in what I hope is a mysterious way.
And then Nigel leans over and bites my lip. Wow. I’ve never had my lip bitten before. Not that I’ve had tons ofhookups and tons of, um, chances to get my lip bitten. And not that it’s horrible, getting your lip bitten. It’s just … different. I decide maybe I should try to bite him back, but then his lips are on mine, and we’re kissing.
Nigel’s a good kisser. Not too soft, not too firm. He smells good, like cigarette smoke mixed with cologne—spicy and hot. He puts his hands into my hair and pulls me closer and then we’re lying on the bed, and I can’t believe it, but I am making out with Nigel Rickson! I let my fingers wander around the back of his neck and sort of … melt into him.
Hmm. Maybe there’s something to this whole rebound thing after all. Or maybe I judged Nigel too harshly. I mean, I did like him once, and who said he can’t be a good boyfriend? He’d be at least a much better boyfriend than Cooper. Although Cooper was a good boyfriend while he was my boyfriend, he was just faking it. And someone who’s being real is a much better boyfriend than someone who is faking, no matter how amazing the faker is being.
Anyway, the point is that maybe Nigel
could
actually be my boyfriend, if I would just give him a chance, or he could at least be someone to hook up with more than once, not on a dare or anything, but—
Ooh. What was … ? Oh. Uh-oh. Nigel is getting a little, um, worked up.
He pulls me closer into him, and his mouth is on mine, but now he’s a little more … insistent.
“Hey, hey,” I say, pulling away and sitting up. I smooth my hair down. “Um, Nigel … let’s … why don’t we just chill out for a second.”
Nigel looks upset, but then looks like he thinks better of it. “Why?” he says. He sits up and starts kissing my neck, and his mouth feels soft and warm against my skin. “Why do you want to chill out? Doesn’t this feel good?”
“Ye-es,” I say honestly. “But, um, I don’t want … I mean, shouldn’t we slow down a little bit?”
“Slow down?” Suddenly Nigel pulls back and looks at me like he’s been slapped. “What do you mean, ‘slow down’?”
“You know, slow down.” He’s stopped kissing my neck now, and I move a little closer to him, but he’s not having it.
“I am not,” he says forcefully, “a premature ejaculator.” He looks at the floor and shakes his head.
“Oh, no!” I say quickly. “I don’t think you’re a … a premature ejaculator!”
“You don’t?” he looks up at me. “Because I don’t play that.”
“No, I know you don’t,” I say. Geez. Talk about being defensive. Although. Now that I think about it, I do remember this rumor going around last year, something about Nigel and Hannah Rutherford, about how he got all worked up while they were making out and then he totally ruined her new comforter by—
There’s a knock on the door and Nigel and I look at each other.
“Who is it?” I say.
“Yeah, who’s there?” Nigel wants to know.
“It’s Cooper,” Cooper says. Probably coming to check up on me and see if I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.
Nigel looks at me. I shrug.
“Who?”
he asks.
“Cooper Marriatti.” The sound of the doorknob rattling fills the room. I didn’t realize that Nigel locked the door. I’m not sure if I’m scared, flattered, or surprised that Nigel would think to do that.
“The room’s full, dude,” Nigel says. “Find your own.” He smiles at me and I smile back tentatively.
But Cooper keeps knocking. “Eliza?” he asks. “Are you okay?”
Nigel looks at me. “That’s your man?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
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