Sam Cruz's Infallible Guide to Getting Girls Part 8

"Baboon."

One more try.

"Use your hips, woman. You're lurching from side to side."

I stop dead. "You're stressing me out."

"Think cat."

"House or wild?"

"Jungle," he says exasperated. "Go Falco while the sun shines."

Cutie smiles again at my jungle cat approach. I hope he's smiling with me, not at me.

"First time single, long time glider?" I ask. It's the best I can do.

"Sadly," he replies, "long time single too."

I take note of his T-shirt visible under his open jacket, featuring Calvin and Hobbes as Han Solo and Chewbacca.

"Great shirt," I state. "Except as sidekicks go, Hobbes in his natural state is a billion times cooler than Chewie."

He frowns and looks down at the image.

Test. He thinks Star Wars is: a) okay, b) the greatest film ever made or c) not a tale but the guiding truth. If B or C, then even for casual hooking up, I'd have to cross him off the list. Between the guys in my honors cla.s.ses and those in the environmental movement, I've had that film shoved down my throat more times than I can stomach. There's not enough s.e.x appeal in the world that can overcome that obsession for me.

He grins. "I agree, but Calvin's just a kid so we gotta cut him some slack for his fantasies."

Pa.s.sed with flying colors.

And just like that, we're having a conversation. It's fun. And yes, even a little flirty.

I see that predictably Sam has found a willowy redhead, but I'm happy for us both.

The next half hour pa.s.ses really quickly. Marcus, my Calvin and Hobbes guy and I are having an awesome time. I don't remember talking this much in forever. It makes me realize how much Jeremy dominated everything.

I expound upon my current point. "It's a basic signal of attraction. The female tosses her hair, allowing her to expose her armpit and releasing pheromones. That draws her prospective mate in."

"Uh... That's complicated," Marcus says.

"Not really. See what happens is-"

"Back in a second, okay? I've got to check something."

He takes off. Sam arrives.

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing. We were talking."

"You were lecturing," Sam admonishes. "Poor guy looked like there was going to be a quiz. You completely intimidated him."

"Did not."

"Did you flirt at all? Did you embody Falco?"

"Yes!"

Sam looks doubtful.

"I encouraged him to talk about himself. I laughed at his jokes."

"But for the other twenty-eight minutes?"

To my total shock, I see Marcus walking with some pet.i.te brunette. He says something to her. She looks at me and as she pa.s.ses says "Wow. She sounds really smart."

Said as if I have leprosy and punctuated with a giggle.

f.u.c.k me. It's happened again. Here I thought I was the lead object of desirability but I got blindsided by a midget who wriggles her nose when she talks. Probably to access brain function.

"This isn't going to work," I tell Sam.

"Fine. Cave. Pretty sucky scientist to bail as soon as results aren't as expected."

"Like I'll fall for your pathetic attempt at reverse psychology."

"Okay. You're a big chicken."

"Hey!"

He clucks at me. "You can stick to your comfort zone and dry up till your enchanted garden shrivels from drought or stick with me and have girls like her dying of envy."

I hear the brunette giggle again. I won't lie. It grates like nails on a chalkboard. "Promise?"

"Swear. Go do your crazy pretend you're a bird thing. You'll feel better."

The redhead arrives. She places her arm on Sam and smiles warmly at me. Oh man. What did he tell this one?

"I hope you don't mind if I steal your brother."

Brother? "He's all yours."

"It's sweet how worried he is about you after your breakup."

Pimping my tragedy for a hook up? Sam knows I'm going to kill him, but he also knows that I won't bust him so he's looking pretty smug.

"Sam's the best. And I'm so glad he has someone to take him through his first flight."

"Flight?" Sam looks green just talking about it. "Uh. No. I don't paraglide. I just came to support Ally."

The redhead claps her hands in delight. "A first timer."

"Total virgin," I say sweetly. This entire conversation is cheering me up.

Sam glares at me. "Thanks but no thanks."

Redhead squeezes his hand. "I promise to take very good care of you. I'll be gentle."

Sam grins. And that's the moment I know he is totally screwed. Because a lifetime of habit kicks in and he can't resist her.

"I'm sure you will," he says, allowing himself to be led off.

It's cruel but I have to watch.

Maybe I won't be the one with the worst afternoon. Fingers crossed.

Chapter eleven.

I'm vaguely aware of Alicia clipping something onto me, but mostly all I can feel are her hands running over my chest.

Our flirting is so blatant, I'm surprised Ally doesn't feel like a voyeur, watching us from her nearby viewing point.

Alicia places her head on my shoulder. "Feel good?"

I lean back, putting our bodies in contact. "Excellent."

"Great. Now, all you have to do is run down this slope, take off, and fly."

Huh. She wasn't just saucily feeling me up. It hits me that I'm now harnessed into a tandem paraglider in front of her. That chilling realization must mean...

I finally, truly look at the view in front of me, dropping off sharply into nothingness. I go pale as I realize that there is only a few feet of land between me and the blue void.

I'm going to spew.

"Gorgeous," Ally sighs happily.

I shoot her an "are you stupid?" look. It's my worst nightmare.

"Wait. We're really going to? No. I don't think so."

"Count of three," Alicia says briskly. "One, two-"

I blackout before she hits "three".

Later at the bowling alley, I mimic the crunching of Alicia's wrist to a highly amused Rachel and Ian, who sport matching vintage bowling shirts.

"Apparently, I landed full-on dead weight on top of her wrist and broke it," I explain.

"That's when the ambulance arrived," Ally adds unhelpfully.

"You're loving this, aren't you?" I ask her.

She beams at me. "He was out cold at that point."

"I, for one, am impressed with Sam's dedication to the pursuit of s.h.a.gging. Going so far he'd jump off a cliff," Ian teases.

"No, honey," Rach corrects him. "The real strategy was to faint, causing bodily harm to this poor girl who he could then nurse back to health. Sam, you are a twisted genius."

"Finished busting my b.a.l.l.s? I was a helpless victim hypnotized by her hot looks."

"You're a big boy," Rachel scolds. "You could have used your words."

"He just wanted to chat up the scrummy girl," Ian agrees.

"At least no one giggled at you," Ally says. She's still sensitive about the brunette.

"No, they were too busy filming me for YouTube," I shoot back.

Looking back, it was kind of ridiculous how far I let this go. What can I say? Me dog. Her female.

I eye the ten-pin formation at the end of the lane, then heft my bowling ball, racing forward on my tiptoes like Fred Flintstone. I let the ball fly.

"Sti-rike!" I call out in my best Fred voice.

The ball rolls into the gutter. I pretend to pout.

Ally shoots me a consoling smile. "Your optimism is adorable, but face it. Flintstone physics don't work in our world."

"Ye of little faith. One day I'll do it and who'll be laughing then?"

Rachel gets up to take her turn. Probably the only girl who bowls in a pencil skirt, but she manages to make that whole Vegas Rat Pack vibe work for her, so what the h.e.l.l. She lets her ball go just as a giggling bunch of six-year-olds traipse by.

I recognize their chaperone. Nikki: a freshman drama major who's elevated looking hot to an art form. Also one of the rare exceptions to the "want more" rule.

With Nikki, I barely got my pants on before the lights were on and the door open, awaiting my exit. Bless her.

"Wow." Ian has seen Nikki.

"Where?" Rachel cranes her head. "Ah."

"That's allowed?" I may have to give Rachel more credit.