Sam Cruz's Infallible Guide to Getting Girls by Tellulah Darling

wear a super low-cut shirt with maximum pushing up of cleavage so he’ll come to his senses and do me again. Because Sam is a visual boy and I aim to please.
    So here we are. At the diner in our usual booth. There’s a half played game of cards on the counter in front of Vic. Vic swivels slowly on his red leather and chrome stool as he contemplates his hand.
    Behind the counter, Matt holds a metal canister of whipped cream above a cut-glass bowl of chocolate ice cream.
    “Whipped cream?” he asks Sam.
    “Naw, Sam’s whipped enough,” Vic jumps in.
    Sam doesn’t rise to the bait, which is unlike him.
    “Careful Vic,” he says calmly, “your queen is showing.”
    Vic checks his cards.
    Matt places the bowl down between us, complete with two spoons.
    Well, if I’m not having sex, might as well have ice cream. My eyes roll back in delight at my first icy bite.
    Sam watches me savor my dessert. At this moment, it’s the best thing in the entire universe.
    I suck on the spoon in what I hope he’ll take as an invitation to other things I can do with my tongue.
    Nothing.
    “I’m in heaven,” I tell him. “And as an added bonus, my mouth is really cold.”
    I scoop up some chocolate and put the spoon in his mouth. “Surprisingly good, huh?”
    Sam shifts around in his seat. “Surprisingly,” he agrees.
    He puts on his serious voice. “We should talk about this.”
    Since he sounds like someone just died, I can guess how this chat is going to go down. I’m kind of shocked that he’s going to pass on no-strings-attached sex, but I get if it’s too weird for him.
    Sam is all about everything and everyone in neat, definable boxes. Yesterday afternoon with me probably short-circuited the poor boy’s brain.
    I’m not thrilled about where this is headed because the sex was super great and easily accessible. And now I’m going to have to work at it and go out and find guys and make sure it all seems safe and work my Abra and sing the MI theme and school them in the proper way to work my body.
    Honestly, I just want minimum effort for maximum return. What can I say? I’m a product of my culture.
    With Sam he’s been vetted, broken in, is a known good time, and I can reach him whenever I want. But if I’m forced to choose, there’s no contest between keeping the best friend and keeping the benefits.
    I give it one last try.
    “Friends with benefits, Sam. No strings. Just,” I lower my voice, “brilliant bow chicka wow wow.”
    I waggle my eyebrows at him. Which I can’t believe I’m doing. Probably my behavior stems from being somewhat addicted to his particular brand of pheromones because I’m deviating from being the dominant one and skating perilously close to submission, i.e. “take me.”
    “Obviously there’s this new side that we enjoyed,” he says.
    “Absolutely.”
    “But if it’s going to affect the friendship then it’s got to stop,” he finishes.
    “Why would it?”
    “You did run out on me yesterday.”
    “That wasn’t about friendship.” Hello? I was following your rules.
    “It is when you know we’d normally hang out. You treated me like some random hookup,” he complains.
    “You can’t bitch about how chicks want more and then demand special status,” I shoot back.
    “It is the status quo. Between us.”
    I pretend to think it over. “Hmm, movies, dinner, nope. No orgasms.”
    That last bit is said into a suddenly silent diner. Matt and Vic perk up, very interested.
    Matt stares at me, clearly telegraphing he’s waiting for me to dish. I throw him my best “no way no how” scowl. He rolls his eyes at me but returns to his card game.
    “Forget it,” Sam grumbles. “Are we going bowling or what?”
    An hour later I’m rolling off of Sam in his bedroom. Again. Both of us are barely covered by the sheets.
    “Not that we’re going to do this again,” I lie to him, “but I think it would be best if we keep it between us. If Rach and Ian found out, well, you know