Suddenly Super (On Hold)

Chapter Six ~ Unlucky

(Jocelyn’s POV)

“Oh, so that means you’re free tonight?”

I blink.

What?

Suddenly my cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire and I’m sure that I look like I just came back from running a 5K.  “Er… uhm…” Yes Jocelyn, way to make an idiot out of yourself.  “Erhagger…” It’s safe to say that in the space of only a couple minutes, I’ve managed to make a fool out of myself in front of possibly the two most attractive human specimens I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“Quit it, dude.” Lincoln finally speaks up, “She’s not that kind of girl.” My mind doesn’t have time to register whether or not that was a compliment (or whether or not Lincoln just moved in front of me slightly, because I could be hallucinating) before his brother completely ignores Lincoln and continues.

“Damn Lincoln, when did Grendel finally upgrade their girls?” George whistles and shamelessly eyes me up and down.  As if my brain had been shut off for repairs, it finally comes back to life and my mouth flies open before I can stop it.

“Once you left, us classy girls decided it was finally safe come out of hiding,” The words hold more confidence than I’m feeling, and I awkwardly fidget in place.

Good Jocelyn, a member of the male race finally decides to acknowledge your existence and what do you say?

Silence.

Without warning, George’s deep, rich laughter fills the house (a great feat, considering how freaking huge it is).  My cheeks threaten to tinge into a whole new shade of red and break my record for tomato faces.  “I like this one,” He manages in between chuckles, “Keep her.”

My body finally decides to begin to function, and I’m able to roll my eyes.  “Shut the hell up, would you?” Lincoln mutters, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and tugging me past his brother.  Even as we head up the monstrous set of stairs, I can hear George muttering something about high school.  And then, because my mind is no longer distracted by the heavenly sound of a sex god’s laughter, my eyes drift to the little party of sensations happening on my wrist.

Mother of chocolate sauce.

His hand is so big and warm, and it seems to be sending electric shocks up my arm.  The skin he’s touching feels like it’s on fire, and once again my cheeks heat up.  Does he know what he’s doing to me? Is he some kind of sorcerer and he’s doing witchcraft? Oh god, I should make better friends.  What should I tell him? Sorry, Lincoln, but I really don’t have time in my schedule to be a member of your cult. Maybe I could pencil you in-

“Earth to red?”

“Wha-” Being snapped out of my totally realistic train of thoughts, I realize I’m now in a bedroom, and his hand is far from my wrist.  “Red?” My eyebrows shoot up curiously at his new nickname for me.

He shrugs, and motions to my fiery hair, “Seems appropriate.” I hold back the urge to roll my eyes, which seems to be a growing habit.

“Very creative,” I comment sarcastically, roaming around the room, “You know what also seems appropriate? My name.” I take in the tan colored walls, navy blue duvet on the bed, shockingly tidy desk, the posters, the photos. Feeling stupid, I realize I’m in his bedroom.

“Which is…?” I snap my attention to where he’s reclined carelessly atop his bed, and squint my eyes.  The faintest smirk plays on his lips, and I feel stupid for thinking that he was being serious.  Scanning the room, I finally decide to perch myself on his desk, watching him curiously.  He runs a hand through his dark hair, tugging at it slightly, seemingly in deep thought.  Damn, I wish I could run my hands through his hair...