The Queen Of Zombie Hearts

Me, my heart fluttering a thousand times faster: Done!

Cole: Bro and Mac w/U?

Me: Nope. They love us enough 2 give us nite 2 ourselves.

Cole: Perfect. I’ll turn off alarm & unlock my window.

Gavin winked at me. “So tonight’s the night, huh? Finally gonna get that cherry popped.”

No way. There was just no way he’d gone there. “You are such a pig.”

“Pigs are cute.”

“And filthy.”

“The perfect combination.”

It was impossible to insult someone who never took offense. “Look, I’m not going to discuss my sex life—or lack of one—with you, of all people.”

Undeterred, he said, “Unless you break your neck on the way in, you’re diving into that boy’s bed the second you get there, and we both know it.”

Good glory. He and Nana were a tag team, and I wasn’t sure which one had the better right cross.

“So...you want any tips for taking things from ordinary to extraordinary?” he asked. “I’m something of a sex-pert.”

“Actually, you’re something of a slut-pert.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s not even a word.”

I couldn’t judo-chop his airway. He would lose control of the car and crash. “Why don’t I just cut off my ears and give them to you?” I muttered to myself. “It would hurt less than this conversation.”

“Fine. Be that way. Fumble around in the dark. See if I care.”

“You totally shouldn’t care!”

“Well, I do. You’re my cupcake. I happen to think you deserve to be frosted just—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence or I swear I’ll start a douche-bag jar and make you put a fiver in it.”

He grinned at me. “It’d be a douche-purse jar, and you know it.”

Never going to live that down. Nana and her “teen-speak” would haunt me for the rest of my life. “Why don’t you tell me all about your first time, hmm? Was it special? Did you cover your bed in rose petals?”

“It was the most specialest,” he answered, deadpan. “And yes.”

I rolled my eyes again. I rarely left his presence without giving him five good ones. “Whatever. This subject is closed, Barbie, so you can shut it now or lose your tongue.”

He didn’t shut it. Of course. “Barbie? That’s the nickname you pick for me?”

“Hate it?” I asked with a smirk. A girl could only hear “cupcake” so many times before she had to strike back.

“Absolutely love it. I’ve always suspected you want to take me out and play with me.”

See! Impossible!

“Anyway,” he continued, “how are you going to seduce Cole Has All the Luck Holland?”

I snorted. “Are you serious? Like a girl really needs to do anything more than breathe.”

He shook his head and tsked, as if to say I pity you. “Listen up, cupcake. I’m about to drop major pearls of wisdom.”

“Even though I know how rare wisdom-dropping is for you, please, don’t.”

“If I want to get a chick into bed, I say one of two things. ‘I screwed up.’ Or ‘let’s talk about it.’ Boom. Clothes are flying, limbs are tangled and freaky things are happening. But if you say those things to Cole, he’s such a pansy he’ll be over and done in his jeans before the good stuff even starts.”

“Give me a minute to get over my shock that you’re still single.”

“I know, right. You’ll probably need more than a minute, though. It’s a real mind puzzler.”

“Look, some couples care about more than sex.” I thought about the way Cole sometimes looked at me, as if the sun rose and set just for me. “They care about connecting.”

“You’re proving my point for me. They care about connecting...physically.”

“Mentally. Emotionally.”

“Honey buns, only one half of the couple cares about the mental and emotional, and here’s a hint—it’s not the guy. But I digress. You’re just going to jump him, aren’t you? No muss, no fuss—you’ll just tear off his clothes and show him who’s boss.” He wiggled his brows. “Why, Ali Bell, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Question: If I gutted him like a zombie, would anyone actually convict me of a crime?

Answer: No! Everyone would thank me.

“Just...concentrate on the road,” I said.

He obeyed, which made me suspicious of his next move. I studied his profile. He could have been plucked straight out of a magazine. An underwear ad. Hence the nickname I’d given him. He was pretty-boy beautiful, with blond hair and sparkling eyes of green and gold.

“You’re staring,” he said. “Thinking about doing me now? Well, I hate to break it to you, cupcake, but that ship has sailed.”

Third eye-roll. “Trying to figure you out.”

“Although,” he continued, as if I hadn’t spoken, “I could probably be convinced to show you how a real man pleases a woman after Cole screws everything up. You know, as an act of mercy.”

“I’d rather a zombie show me. You will never be a candidate.” Keeping him humble was a service I offered free of charge—and I still wasn’t sure I was getting my money’s worth.

He shrugged. “Your loss.”

“You’re only being so generous—” I nearly choked on the word “—because you don’t like being told no.”

“Or because chicks are like candy, and it’s my mission to taste-test all the different flavors.”