The Last Virgin Standing

Chapter 25: Turkey for Thought: Maybe Benjamin Was On the Right Track

There were twelve of them running around like wild banshees. Perhaps I was exaggerating a bit, but they did have a surplus of energy. I anticipated that they'd be tamer than they really were which was what my first mistake was. I was tempted to keep the ice cream from them because they didn't need any more sugar, but who was I to prevent them from experiencing the joy of ice cream?

I thought my purpose of being here was to watch the kiddies, but as far as I knew, they weren't creating any problems. I turned my head from the arcade area, where all of them played freely, to Tyler, who was sitting across the table from me. "They're not trouble," I said.

"Never said they were," he replied dully.

"But I thought you said..."

"What did I say, Charlotte?"

He waited for my answer. "I...you said you wanted me to help you."

He shook his head. "I never asked you for help, Charlotte. I just asked for company. If you don't want to be here, you can go. There's nothing stopping you except for that door." He pointed towards the exit.

"I want to be here!" I protested and immediately regretted how eager I sounded.

He raised an eyebrow. I saw a hint of playfulness in his poker face. "I don't think you do."

"Fine," I said, getting to my feet. "See you later."

I felt him grab my hand and tug me backwards to him. "Wait. Don't go."

"But you said—"

"I think you're daydreaming about me and thinking of the things the fake me said." I saw the corner of his lips pull upwards.

I opened my mouth to disagree but ended up gaping at him instead. He gently shut it, the light stroke of his calloused fingers lingering on my jaw. "Don't be so embarrassed. It's normal for girls to constantly think about me and compose fantasies of things they would to do to my wonderful body."

I frowned and slapped his cloth-covered, oh-so godly chest. "Shut up."

"You don't deny it."

"You wish I daydreamed about you," I snorted.

He looked like he wanted to question the snort, but he didn't say anything about it. "So," he started with a grin, "what are your sexual desires? If you ask nicely, maybe I would be willing to help you."

I shushed him, scanning to see if any innocent ears overheard. "Could you be any louder?" I exasperated.

He took that as a dare, but I quickly covered his mouth with my hand. "Don't you dare. That was a rhetorical question."

"Somebody's moody today. Are you on your period, Summers?"

His bluntness took me aback. Didn't he know that asking that question was punishable by death glares? He was just begging to be ignored and become the target of my bitterness. Wasn't it some unwritten rule that guys weren't supposed to speak of it unless said in a much sensitive tone than he used?

He was right. I was on my period, but he didn't need to point it out unless I bled through my pants. And if that happened, I wouldn't know whether to be mortified or thankful. "I—Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?" I stammered, hoping my cheeks weren't as red as I imagined they'd be.

"You got angry really fast. I thought that only happened when girls were on their period."

"It depends on the girl. Sometimes it's something that a guy did," I said hastily.

He rolled his eyes. "That's the problem with girls. They're so emotional. And they wonder why no guy wants a relationship," he scoffed to himself.

"We're not all emotional."