After His Banana Read online

  “Right, I know. I was speculating from your perspective.”

  I felt totally out of my depth, but I tried to press on, firing back with a playful response. “Are you going to just stand there? Or were you planning to watch me pee, too?”

  “Was that an option?”

  It was too much. I was only going to embarrass myself if I kept trying to keep up with him. I clamped my mouth shut and tried to move past him. He didn’t move, so I ended up pressing my chest straight into his. Miles looked down with a glint of something fiery in his eyes. “I admire a girl who knows what she wants.”

  I tried to explain that I’d bumped into him by mistake. Instead, I wound up mumbling something incoherently because he was so tall, so close, and so gorgeous.

  On the surface, all he was doing was looking at me. Instead, it felt more like I was captured by his eyes. “I wouldn’t hit on a girl in the bathroom, but if I was the kind of guy to do something like that… I’d tell you that you smell fucking amazing. And in the culinary world, things always taste as good as they smell.”

  I cracked a smile. Okay, that was flirting. But he must’ve been put up to this by his friends, or something, so I refused to acknowledge it. “Thank you.” I was still squished up against him because neither of us seemed able or willing to move. He was like a warm wall of muscle. I swallowed hard. “I really do have to pee. So unless you’re into golden showers…” Did I seriously just say that?

  He had a rich, deep laugh. Miles shifted to the side, giving me an open path to the stalls.

  “Do I get to know your name, or will I have to settle for guessing?”

  I thought about telling him, then decided the less I acted interested, the less embarrassed I’d be when I thought back on this moment. Change the subject. “You look a little old to be a student. Are you a professor?”

  Miles looked like he was trying to decide how much to share. “I am a little old to be a student, but yeah. I’m a student. And it’s a little bit of a story. I’d gladly tell you about it over coffee. Or over a pair of pillows.”

  I tried not to, but I grinned. “I really need to get to class.”

  “Which class?”

  “Clay sculptures. It’s just an elective. I’m actually a psychology major and this was my last elective credit.” I inwardly winced. I seriously needed to pee, and I didn’t need to tell this male model in the bathroom my life story. He was going to think I was insane.

  Miles pursed his lips in thought. They were nice lips, too. They looked impossibly soft, and I imagined they’d be warm. “I won’t keep you then. Nice to meet you, Jasmine?”

  I gave him my best attempt at a coy smile. “Nice try, but that’s not my name.”

  “Guess I’ll have to keep trying.” He gave a two-fingered salute, then left the restroom.

  Once the door closed, I pressed my back against the wall and laughed to myself. What the hell was that? Even though I knew it was probably the last I’d ever see of him, I still couldn’t stop my heart from pounding.

  In another life, maybe. Getting wrapped up with a guy—however unlikely it might be that Miles was doing any more than innocent flirting—would be the mother of all distractions. I’d made a choice to put school before anything because I knew how much I was sacrificing to be here. I knew how much rode on me doing this right.

  Then again, I could make the argument that Miles would be an interesting subject for my paper. Maybe even the perfect subject. I just wasn’t sure how that conversation would go. “Hey, how would you feel about being the star of my abnormal personalities essay? I promise to psychoanalyze you, draw embarrassing conclusions about your past, and probably make you sound at least a little insane?”

  Yeah, no.

  The only way that would work is if I threw my morals out the window and wrote the paper about him without asking. There wouldn’t be any long term in a situation like that. The only possible end game would be breaking up with him before the lies caught up with me.

  I sighed. I was wasting my time thinking about it, either way. I had my chance to try to turn that into something concrete, and I’d let it slip. It was probably for the best, anyway. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to resist the temptation to use him for my essay.

  I walked back into class after I’d finished. I nearly bumped into a guy who was wandering sort of aimlessly around, looking for a place to sit. Distantly, I thought it was weird, considering we had assigned seats, but I didn’t look up because my thoughts were still spinning about my bathroom encounter.

  I collected a slab of clay, some shaving tools, and a stand to hold up my figure as he took shape. I sat back down and dug through my purse for my phone to see if I had any notifications, but I couldn’t find it.

  I frowned. I was sure I’d had my phone with me today, hadn’t I?

  I looked up, my mind flashing to the moment Miles had bumped me in the bathroom. He hadn’t stolen my phone, had he?

  God. I was an idiot. I’d—

  That was when I realized who was sitting on the stool in the center of the semi-circle of desks.

  Oh. My. God.

  4

  Miles

  I left the bathroom and saw some douchebag in a white cotton robe walking toward the classroom in front of me. I peered inside the room and noticed the students had blocks of clay and tools out on their desks.

  Oh, shit. Was bathroom girl about to spend all class sculpting this nude model’s ass?

  As usual, I acted before I had time to think. The motivating force was a little jolt of jealousy I had no right to feel, considering I didn’t even know the girl’s name. All I knew was I didn’t want her looking at some guy naked, unless that guy was me, at least.

  “Hey,” I said, tapping his shoulder. “You’re looking for the clay sculpture class, right?”

  He regarded me coldly. The guy looked like Fabio, which only made me want to punch him in the eye even more. “Room 202.” He gestured to the plaque just outside the door, which clearly indicated he was in the right place.

  “Right. Yeah. It’s just that there are two clay sculpture classes. They had to swap rooms today because there wasn’t enough clay down here. They sent me to find you. We’re all in room 300. It’s six floors up on the other end.”

  I could see his little brain working hard as he stared at me. “Room 837?” he asked with an annoyed groan.

  I gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “I know. Our bad. We should’ve emailed you or something.”

  Without another word, he headed off.

  Wonderful. One mission was accomplished, at least.

  Still not really knowing what I intended to do, I found myself wandering inside the classroom. The desks were arranged in a semi-circle around a stool in the center. I walked around slowly, looking for an open place to sit. Every damn desk was taken except one, and—

  Bathroom girl walked right by me without looking up. She set her bag down on the open desk and went to grab supplies.

  I chewed my thumb, looking around. Before I could leave in defeat, the professor noticed me. He came walking over with a cheerful look on his face, then he eyed me from head to toe. His lips split into a smile.

  “You must be our model.” He licked his finger and touched it to my shirt, pulling it away and making a sizzling noise. “We really got our money’s worth this time.”

  All I could do was stare with raised eyebrows. In the long list of stupid shit I’d gotten myself into throughout my life, I had a feeling this was about to shoot itself toward the top. “Yeah,” I said.

  He put a hand on my back and guided me to the stool, urging me to sit. “Make yourself comfortable.”

  I watched in disbelief as he headed over to the thermostat and cranked the heat up. Was this guy fucking serious?

  It was fine. I’d done dumber things and come out just fine. Worst case scenario, I’d need to take off some clothes in front of a room full of art students. I did a quick glance around the room and confirmed that it would absolutely be the most people I’d ever exposed myself to at once.

  I was always trying to set new personal records.

  While I waited for class to start, I put my focus on the girl from the bathroom. She still hadn’t noticed me, or I guessed she wouldn’t be casually digging through her bag like she was. I wondered what that said about her. She knew some meathead was due to show up and strip his clothes off, but she hadn’t even snuck a peak yet?

  Hmm. Mysterious, aren’t you, bathroom girl?

  I spent a few minutes with the cell phone I’d swiped from her jacket when we collided. I hadn’t planned on it, but it practically fell into my hand. I guessed a few passwords on her lock screen and got in on the third try. First, I plugged myself into her contacts. Then I sent myself a text from her phone, so I’d have her number. Next, I took a quick glance at her calendar.

  Was I being a stalker? Uhh, yeah. Probably. But one lesson I’d learned was that evil was often necessary to do good. At least, doing evil shit usually made it easier to get good shit. That probably wasn’t the same thing, come to think of it.

  I slid her phone back in my pocket when I was finished and looked around the room.

  There was plenty of time to drink her in. I’d had time to develop a very particular taste for women in my life. While there was admittedly something pleasing to the eye about a girl with a giant ass and a small waist, I didn’t feel drawn to that. I wasn’t even into the girls with perfectly balanced facial features, cat-like eyes, and explosive sex-appeal.

  It was all too loud, in a way.

  I’d come to admire quiet beauty. It was like going to an art gallery and seeing the paintings with huge crowds. Sure, they were pretty, but everybody knew that. The real fun was finding the obscure corner of the gall
ery where the small painting sat unnoticed. The one that wasn’t immediately obvious as a masterpiece. It wasn’t the one that demanded your attention, and that same quiet nature only made it more breathtaking once you took the time to admire it.

  Something about bathroom girl made me think she had the potential to be that painting.

  She had this way of walking like she was apologizing to the room. Her neck was bent forward slightly, she walked a little too fast, and I had a feeling she was the kind of person who was slow to open up. She wore thick glasses—thick enough that they slightly magnified her eyes, but she still had a pretty little upturned nose with a smear of freckles and a small, somewhat pointed chin.

  She reminded me of a nerdy pixie with an explosion of thick, brown hair.

  I tried to guess bathroom girl’s name while I watched her make her way around the room.

  Maybe her name was… Olive. No, that was stupid. I felt pretty sure there was a name that sounded like Olive, but it wasn’t coming to me.

  Fiona? It had that exotic twist but didn’t seem quite right, either.

  The professor cleared his throat and stood. “As you all know, we’re going to be creating a sculpture with the help of our lovely live model today. Please remember to be courteous and professional. No matter how much you might otherwise be tempted.” He actually gave me a little wink and a tilt of his chin at that.

  Okay.

  “Please,” he said, gesturing to me.

  Please undress? I really wasn’t sure if I was going to go through with this, but I figured what was there to lose? I looked toward Olive Fiona and saw she had finally noticed me.

  Her eyes were wide with confusion and shock.

  I almost laughed but decided not to be cruel.

  “Do I need to be completely nude for this?” I asked.

  The professor looked baffled for a moment, then nodded slowly. “That was what we agreed to. My students are working on anatomy.”

  Right, then. I took off my tie, occasionally stealing a glance at the bathroom girl. She looked like she was trying not to watch, but only mostly succeeding.

  By the time I had my shirt unbuttoned and pulled away, she was blushing.

  Shit. I felt a little blood rush to my cock. I may not know much about nude modeling, but I had a feeling you weren’t supposed to be full mast when your pants came off. They’d think I was some kind of pervert. I tried to think about something not sexy. Spoiled milk. Moldy bread. A squirrel in a pink dress and a hairnet.

  It was sort of working, until I met bathroom girl’s eyes and she gave me a shy little smile.

  My over-eager cock started down the path of no return. I felt it start straining against my pants. I struggled to think of something to buy myself a little time.

  I cleared my throat. “Would it, uh, be okay if I prepared?”

  There was an awkward silence.

  The professor was starting to look impatient. “What kind of preparation do you need?”

  “Stretches?”

  He blew out a breath, ballooning his cheeks. “Okay. But we only have an hour, so please try to make it brief.”

  I sank into a lunge, putting my hands on my hips. I’d made it to the jumping jack phase when the door finally opened. I turned, seeing Mr. Fabio from earlier. His face was redder than it had been last time we met.

  “What is he doing?” Fabio demanded.

  Making a mistake. “Just warming up the crowd for you.”

  He walked to the center of the room with a steely glare. I could’ve asserted my dominance by pulling my cock out, but I felt strangely compelled to control my behavior, at least a little. I was interested in the girl from the bathroom, and I didn’t want to screw things up this early. Leaving without causing too much of a scene would probably help me avoid that.

  I picked up my things. I was about to scurry out of the room when I remembered her phone. It wouldn’t do any good if I didn’t give it back to her. I pulled it out of my pocket and set it on her desk. “You forgot to stop me from taking this. Oh, and…” I fished in my bag until I found an oversized banana that my dad would’ve totally got a boner for. I set it next to her phone.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” She tapped the banana.

  The real nude model was behind me now, tugging on my shirt and trying to get me to leave.

  “Use your imagination,” I said.

  The guy turned me to face him. “Are you going to leave, or do I need to throw you out?”

  I straightened. I’d planned on behaving, but I couldn’t resist at least screwing with him a little. “Counteroffer,” I said. “We both strip down and she votes on who gets to stay.”

  The guy clenched his teeth at me, flexing his jaw. “This is my job. How about you just leave?”

  I looked to Olive, who was shielding her eyes and still staring in confusion at the banana.

  “Will you please just go?” she asked.

  “If you agree to go on a date with me, I’ll leave.”

  She opened her mouth, shaking her head slightly.

  “Either you say yes, or me and Mr. Cotton robe over here are about to cross swords.” I paused, looking at him and wincing. “Not literally—don’t worry.”

  “Okay. Fine,” she said. “Just please go.”

  I tapped the phone. “My number’s in there. Call me tonight. If you don’t, I’ll be back.”

  She’d apparently had enough of being the center of the little show because her head was down and she was covering her face.

  I gave the nude model guy a one-fingered shove on the shoulder. “I would’ve won, you know.”

  “Go,” he said.

  I waved goodbye to the attentive class and headed for the door. I had a feeling she wasn’t going to call. That was okay, though. The best things in life rarely came easily. Kind of like the way giving Kale the punch in the face he deserved at work yesterday hadn’t been easy. I imagined trying to get a job in marketing again was going to be damn-near impossible, too, unless I went to my dad.

  I “tabled” that thought, as Kale would’ve said. Soon, I’d need to figure out what the hell to do with myself. But right now, bathroom girl was exactly the kind of distraction I needed.

  As far as she was concerned, I needed a backup plan. A wise man always prepared for surprises.

  And me? I wasn’t wise. I was a fucking genius. So I always had two backup plans, which was exactly why I’d given her the banana.

  5

  Rey

  I waited tables at a little family-owned Italian place after school most nights. It was called Ralphio’s Footlong Pizzas by The Dozen. Probably the worst part about working there was the endless questions about our name.

  No, our pizzas were more like a foot in diameter, and that was only if you ordered a twelve-inch. Yes, you could order a sixteen-inch, but then it wouldn’t be a foot long anymore. And no, you didn’t have to order your pizza by the dozen. That was just an option.

  Did I mention Ralph was an idiot?

  Still, it was right next to campus at NYU, and that was enough to bring in a nonstop stream of hungry college kids all day and night. So I couldn’t really complain. Much.

  I’d only been clocked in for about two hours, and I’d already screwed up three orders. I wished I could say it was just one of those nights, but I knew the truth.

  I kept thinking about Miles. I was pretty sure he was exactly the kind of guy who roamed college campuses looking to score with as many girls as possible. If he really was that kind of guy, would it be so horrible to agree to a date and try to get enough information to write my paper?

  I knew I’d technically be using him, but if his plan was just to use the date as an excuse to have sex, I thought maybe our shittiness could cancel out or something.

  Besides, I’d only be doing something shitty for a good cause. If Professor Boswell liked my paper best, I’d earn the internship to Beckenridge Point, which was one of the most prestigious psychology practices in New York. Almost everybody who got that internship went on to get selected for some of the best Ph.D. programs, too. It would give me the financial security to set Penny up, and it’d also be a dream come true for me.