“Let me stop you right there. What was Gavin wearing?” Rocco asks.

I scowl at him and smack his arm. “Cut it out. It’s bad enough that you drool over him every time you see him. What he was wearing doesn’t matter.”

To be honest, though, I really can’t blame Rocco for drooling over Gavin. He is definitely drool-worthy. Gavin is six feet tall and the hottest guy I’ve ever seen. I don’t even know when it happened—when he turned from annoying little boy to hot as f**k. It’s almost like he went to sleep one night as a little kid and woke up a man—a man with a great body and a gorgeous face with a dimple in each cheek that is to die for. He has short brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, and sometimes if I’m lucky, day old stubble that I want to lick.

Rocco shakes his head sadly at me. “It ALWAYS matters, Charlotte. I need to get the visual correct if I’m going to help you. Was his T-shirt molded to his well-defined chest? Did his jeans hug his scrumptious ass? Was he wearing that cologne that smells like a crisp fall day?”

Rubbing my fingers against my temples and closing my eyes, I ignore Rocco’s stupid questions. Why the hell did I think it would be a good idea to enlist my g*y friend to help me out with this?

“If you want me to tell you what happened, shut up. This is serious. I touched a penis for f**k’s sake! I touched GAVIN’S penis! In all of our talks about this stupid list, we never discussed the specifics. Like how to give a proper hand job. It was probably the worst thing he’s ever experienced. How am I ever going to face him again?” I whine.

“Stop being so dramatic. It couldn’t have been that bad. If you touch the penis, the penis will be happy. I did have one guy, though, who would only touch my penis with his thumb and forefinger. Like he was trying to milk a cow. I’m not saying I have a ginormous penis or anything, but it’s definitely bigger than a cow’s teat. Tell me you didn’t milk his penis,” Rocco begs.

“It probably would have gone better if I had. He actually said ‘ouch’ and ‘be careful.’ I think I pulled too hard.”

“What the f**k were you doing with his dick? You know those things need to stay attached, right?” Rocco questions me in horror.

“SHUT UP! I told you, I have no f**king experience with this shit. I just reached in and started yanking on it.”

“I think my balls just ran away in fear. Oh look, there they go, right out the front door. GOOD-BYE, BOYS!” Rocco shouts with a wave to the door of the bar.

“I hate you. I really hate you,” I complain.

Rocco laughs and pats me on the back. “No you don’t. You love me. You’re just so cute when you get mad. I promise, no more comments about your inadequate dick handling. Carry on.”

I down the rest of my glass of wine and take a deep breath, determined to get through this horrific story quickly so I never have to speak of it ever again.

Getting up from the couch, I walked into the kitchen to see what was taking Gavin so long. I heard whispering coming from the other side of the fridge, so I headed in that direction. I really should have stopped after three beers. Alcohol gave me liquid courage, but I maybe had a bit too much at that point. All I could think about was ripping Gavin’s clothes off of him.

I heard Gavin say balls and figured he was on the phone with work. Is it weird that I’m strangely turned on every time Gavin talks about what he does for a living?

Walking around the edge of the fridge, Gavin looked up at me in surprise with his phone still pressed against his ear. He didn’t say a word as I moved in closer to him, but I saw his eyes flash back and forth between my boobs and my face. Sweet! Maybe the list Rocco made was actually working. Showing more cle**age was a great idea after all. Wait. What if he wasn’t looking at my boobs? What if he was looking at a mole I have on my chest? Did I have a mole on my chest? Son of a bitch, what if it was a hairy mole and he was so overcome with disgust that all he could think about was this f**king mole?! Or it could be food. Oh holy Jesus, what if I had a piece of leftover pizza stuck to my chest? I could play it off, tell him I put a slice of pepperoni there so he could lick it off.

I decided to do the most logical thing and just pretended like I didn’t have a hairy piece of mole pepperoni sticking to my tits.

Gavin slowly lowered the phone from his ear and continued to stare at me without saying a word.

“Are you done with work stuff?” I asked.

He nodded his head.

“We kissed the other night.”

Might as well divert his attention from my pizza boobs.

He nodded again.

Fuck! Why won’t he just say something! At this point, I might actually prefer it if he points and says, “HOLY MOLEY!”

I tried again. “What were you feeling when we kissed?”

I leaned in closer, hoping to distract him by my proximity. It didn’t work. He looked away from my face and right down the front of my shirt.

“I HAVE NUTS!” he shouted suddenly.

Glancing down, I realized he was unzipping his pants. Well, this escalated quickly. I guess we can ignore the talk and just go right for the good stuff. I wrapped my hand around the back of his head and pulled his face to mine, slamming my lips against his.

I took my other hand and quickly tried to shove it down the front of his pants, but with my eyes closed, I misjudged where I was going and punched him in the stomach.

“OOOF!” he blurts against my lips. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have unzipped my pants. I have no idea why I did that! Don’t hit me again!” Gavin said in a rush.