Fantasy Boyfriend (A Tattooed Bad Boy Romance) (2 page)

The girls laughed. "You and your hot, trashy
romance novels," Desiree teased. "One of these days, you should just
date one of your books."

I laughed. "I should," I agreed. "But someday,
I'm going to meet my dream date, just you watch," I swore, nodding at my
own words. "He's going to have all the characteristics that I admire most
in a man." I glanced at each of my friends. "My books may be fiction,
but the characteristics of the man I'm looking for are found in most of those
heroes."

"I don't know," Selina said, shaking her
head. "I have a feeling that you’re going to miss out on a lot of good
guys if you keep comparing every one you meet to one of your romance heroes.
Remember, Jessica, there's no such as a knight in shining armor. Every guy I've
ever met has some warts."

"That may be," I agreed. "But still,
it's not going to keep me from trying."

The girls and I spent another hour getting
reacquainted before I decided it was time to go to my room. I had a lot of
things to do. I had to bring up a few boxes that had been stored in the
basement, unpack, verify my school schedule, and I needed to run a couple of
errands, pick up a few staples, as well as supplies for classes, which would
start next week.

I bid the others goodnight and gave each of them a hug
before I left and moved short distance down the opposite hallway toward my
room. It was a small but comfortable room with a slanted ceiling and a dormer
window that looked out over the tree-lined street below. The neighborhood was
relatively quiet, although populated by a large number of college students.
Many of the homes on the street were converted Victorians like this one, providing
the students of the nearby university with convenient and affordable options
for non-campus housing. I guess the tradition of converting the homes and
renting out to students had been going on since the founding of the school in the
1960s.

In my room, I sat down on my bed and pulled a yellow
executive memo pad as well as my diary from the bedside table. First, I made a
list of the things I would need to go get tomorrow morning, and then I turned
to my diary. After I had written about my reunion with my sorority sisters, I
decided I needed to make a list. The girls teasing me about dating one of my
romance novels wasn't such a bad idea. Perhaps I should write down a list of
the characteristics that I looked for, or I should look for, in the man of my
dreams.

I nibbled on the end of my pen for several moments and
then decided. At the top of my list was “alpha male.” I wanted a guy that was
strong, confident, and would provide me with a sense of protection or security.
It wasn't that I felt like I needed a man to protect me, but I wanted to know
that one
could
, if the situation ever
came up.

“Rich” was the second item on my list. I wasn't a snob
or anything, but I would prefer a man who had some financial stability. I had spent
years struggling to get by, and had watched my parents struggle for a long time
to get by, and I wasn't particularly fond of the idea of living hand to mouth
every day for the rest of my life.

Next on my list, I wanted someone who “played a sport.”
I wasn't sure if I wanted a football player or a baseball player, but I knew I
didn't want a basketball player. Too tall and lanky. At the same time, I knew
that Boston also provided a wide range of sporting activities from marathon
runners to rowing competitors, down to polo and rugby players. So, I was
undecided about the type of sport, but as long as he played sports, I was good
with that.

Next on my list came “womanizer,” though not to imply a
cheater. That's not what I meant by womanizer. I guess I wanted a man who was
attracted to other women and one who attracted other women; one who was
handsome, charming, suave, and debonair. Like Cary Grant from the old
black-and-white movies that I loved to watch on rainy days. I wanted someone
who knew his way around women, not someone clumsy and inexperienced. At the
same time, I didn't want the guy to be a stuck up jerk; that's not what I
implied, either. I would know it when I saw it.

Next on my list came “tattoos.” I don't know why, but
I found tattoos incredibly sexy. Not prison-style gang tattoos or amateur
tattoos, but exquisite, complicated, and beautiful tattoos done by skin artists.
I didn't want a guy who was covered head to toe in tattoos, but a few certainly
wouldn't hurt. They gave guys a kind of "bad guy" aura.

Last on my list, my dream guy had to be a “good lover.”
Not that I had much experience to judge. It wasn't like I was a virgin, but I
had only gone all the way with a guy a couple of times, once in my senior year
of high school and once in my freshman year here at Boston U. Neither occasion
had been what I would classify as pleasant or earth-shattering. That's why
needed a guy who was experienced; one who was a good lover. I didn't want to
deal with the fumblers, the inept, the ones who were so focused on pleasing
themselves and getting off that they didn't even think of me.

As I finished completing my list of desirable
characteristics, I smiled. It was a challenging list, no doubt about it, but it
couldn't be impossible to fulfill, could it?

I was just as excited as the others about going to our
preschool party. No, not pre-school, but preschool, as in just before the
semester started. It was a good chance to catch up with old friends, party a
little, and meet new people, although I wasn't too good at that. I could hear
the others stomping around in their rooms, and in about five minutes we'd meet
up on the landing. I took one last look at myself in the mirror, hoping I
looked okay. A short skirt, not so short that the bottom of my butt cheeks
showed, but short enough to offer a more than plentiful glimpse of my long
legs. The dark blue pencil skirt was matched with a sapphire blue cap sleeve
blouse, perfect for this still humid evenings of late August in Boston. On my
feet I wore a pair of simple black flats.

I had pulled my long, ash-brown hair into a high
ponytail, and wore a pair of simple silhouette heart-shaped stud earrings and
that was it. Very little makeup, as I didn't really like to wear makeup too
often. A simple pinch of my cheeks and some clear lip gloss was my usual modus
operandi.

After one last glimpse, I decided that good enough was
good enough. It wasn't like I was on the prowl tonight. Typically, I didn't
make many new friends at school. In fact, it had taken me quite a while just to
meet the ones I had, and I was so busy with schoolwork most of the time that I
didn't have a lot of extra time to spend on developing relationships. Besides,
the guys I had met so far here at college were not up to my standards. If I was
going to take the time out of my studies to go out and pretend interest, I did
want to be genuinely interested.

I didn't really want to go and would have much rather
preferred to stay in my room and relax, reading one of my romance novels. There
was nothing equal, to me at least, than escaping into the pages of a good book.
Being transported to different times, different locations, with fascinating
characters and the epitome of manliness was my idea of a good time. I never
liked any of the guys I’d met at school. The others always looked forward to
meeting new, cute guys, but I wasn't really into that. Sure, I like to date
once in
awhile
, but to be quite honest, I didn't
really want to waste the time just "going out." It wasn't like I
didn't like sex or companionship, or even hanging out, but if a relationship
wasn't going to go anywhere, what was the point?

"Are you ready, Jessica?" Becky called from
the landing.

"Coming!" I hollered back. With one last critical
look over my shoulder in the mirror, I shrugged and headed to the door. I
opened it and stepped out to see Becky, Desiree, and Selena all gussied up and
ready to go. Selena looked gorgeous in a tight-fitting black spandex-like
dress. Her makeup complemented her darker skin tone, with a magenta and
purplish eyeshadow and hot pink lipstick. Desiree looked classy as ever in a
floral one piece summer dress and sandals, and Becky wore such a tight
fitted pair of capris that I wondered how she had managed to get into them, let
alone zip them up. Her tube top accentuated her bust line, which I am sure she
intended. Her whitish blonde hair was pulled back away from her face, and, like
me, she kept the makeup to a minimum.

"Are we ready?"
Desiree grinned.

"Ready!” Becky, Selena,
and I replied in unison.

"I can't wait to check
out the guys," Becky said, taking the stairs first.

The rest of us followed,
with me bringing up the rear. It wasn't far, and it was still light out this
time of year, so we had decided to walk to the campus grounds. When daylight
savings time brought darkness earlier, most of us opted for either a taxi or a
short bus ride for safety’s sake. The air outside was hot, humid, and still,
making me grateful once again that I hadn’t worn makeup.

The frat party to which we’d
– and the rest of the sorority – had been invited to
was
at one of the guys’ fraternity houses on campus, but I had forgotten which one.
It didn't really matter. I would stick around for a while, mingle, enjoy a
drink or two, and then probably just head on back. The others always thought me
something of a fuddy-duddy, but I didn't really mind.

By the time we got close to
the fraternity building, we saw a relatively large number of partygoers coming
and going. Some were alone, most in couples or foursomes, everyone seeming to
be smiling and having a good time.

I loved the atmosphere on
campus, even though I rarely partook in it. It was fun to be surrounded by
strangers, to mingle with humanity and yet remain isolated. Back where I came
from, everybody knew you, what you did, and how you did it. It was nice to, in
essence, disappear while still being visible in a social environment. The girls
began to twitter in increased excitement as we headed toward the open front
door. Music blared from inside, although I couldn't quite place the band.
Sometimes, they all sounded the same to me. It sounded like Metallica, but what
do I know?

We entered the frat
building, the bottom floor packed with laughing, shouting people calling to one
another to be heard over the music. Most everyone clasped clear plastic cups of
beer in their hands, although some carried bottles. I wasn't a big alcohol
drinker, but once in a while I did indulge. Tonight was a perfect night to top
off with an ice cold beer. The minute we entered the room, we girls separated.
Before I could even say a word, Becky, Desiree, and Selena all went separate
ways, each of them eyeing different corners of the room as if it had been
synchronized and planned like a battle strategy.

I stood just inside the
doorway, smiling and shaking my head. They all seemed to have what we teased
and called “guy-
dar
,” but as usual, I lacked in that
particular skill. I looked over the crowd and then began to mingle, making my
way to the far side of the room where a couple of card tables were set up with
beverages.

It was then that I saw him.
I stopped in my tracks, and cliché as it sounded, my heart gave a little leap
of excitement. What the hell? There was a guy smiling at me from across the
room. For a second, I resisted the urge to glance over my shoulder to look
behind me. Surely, he wasn't looking at me, was he? I succumbed to temptation
and took a quick, surreptitious glance behind me. There were no single girls
immediately behind me, at least, not facing his direction.

I turned around and found
him again, standing near the table next to some iced bottles of beer. He was
incredibly cute, but looked kind of preppy. His clothes were clean-cut,
close-fitting, and modest. He wore a pair of tan khakis, a dark blue and white
striped rugby shirt, and a pair of camel-colored suede loafers. He had
handsome, well-defined features: a strong, narrow jaw, a shadowed stubble of
facial hair, and luxurious, no,
luscious,
thick, black hair that was shaved close on the sides and long on top. How
would it
feel to run my fingers through that hair, I
wondered briefly. I decided I would just keep heading on over to the table,
thinking to grab myself a beer and then join my friends. He kept his eyes on me
as I crossed the room and approached the table. It was a little disconcerting,
the way he stared at me, but flattering at the same time. Certainly, there were
a large number of girls in this room that outshone me in the beauty
department, that
was for sure.

As I stopped at the table,
he took a step closer and smiled. God. He had perfect, white teeth.

"Hey," he said.

He gave me a once over, top
to toe and then back again. Amused, I did the same, hiding the fact that I was
more than a little impressed. "Hey," I said back.

"I'm Luke," he
said, extending his hand.

I smiled and reached my hand
for his. "Jessica." His fingers wrapped around mine and I felt a
curious tingle. What was this? Chemistry? Or just hopeful thinking? I wasn't
sure.

"Can I get you
something to drink?"

I suddenly changed my mind
about the beer. "No, not right now, thanks. Maybe a little later."

He offered a little shrug.
"Suit yourself," he said, still smiling.

I stared at him for several
moments, lost in his green eyes. I wondered idly if he was Irish, but his skin
was a little darker than I would've expected. Maybe Black Irish? Not wanting
him to think I was an idiot, I gestured over my shoulder. "Well, I'll see
you later," I said. Then I turned and walked away, looking for any of my
friends. I felt his eyes boring into my back as I walked away from the beverage
table. The reason I had walked away was not because I wasn’t interested, but
because I wanted to see if his interest in me was real. If it was, he'd follow
me.

I casually meandered my way
through the crowd, pretending I knew more people than I did, smiling and
nodding greetings. At one point, I had the opportunity to glance back over my
shoulder. For some reason, I felt a strange hint of disappointment that Luke
hadn't followed me. Oh, what did I expect? I’d just met him and I was one of
many apparently unattached girls in attendance. He had his pick from at least a
dozen, if not more. No reason why he would single me out.

I passed an hour at the
party, meandering this way and that, not really talking to too many people, but
merely people watching, always focusing on a distant point in the room as if I
had someone to head toward or something to do. It always worked for me and
helped me feel less self-conscious. Plus, it was amusing. Each of my friends
had already hooked up with guys, grouped into small clusters of laughing,
drinking, and more than a little flirting. In one corner of the room, I heard
raucous laughter and shouts and encouragement and realized there was a group of
guys playing beer pong. I strolled over and watched for several minutes, amused
by their increasingly drunken antics, thinking that they were all going to wake
up in the morning with nasty hangovers and probably some toilet grasping, but
that was their problem.

Just as I turned away, I
caught a glimpse of him again. Like before, he caught my eye and smiled at me.
I smiled in return and then sighed. He would probably never make my cut, still
fresh in my mind from writing in my diary just a couple of days ago. Still, it
might be fun to flirt with him until my dream guy showed up – if ever. I wandered
back and forth, continuing to meander through the crowd, thinking that it was
just about time to call it a night.

I had already discounted Luke
as a potential source of amusement when I turned around and saw him standing by
the beverage table again, this time staring idly outside one of the windows. He
had pushed up his sleeves. It
was
rather warm in the room. But that’s not what caused the flush of heat I
suddenly experienced. It was his arms. Wow. Strong and thickly muscled, each
with a noticeable vein traveling up the forearm. Even more stunning were his
full sleeve and exquisitely colorful tattoos. I felt a tingle of excitement in
my nether regions. I don't know what it was about tattoos, but they were such a
turn on to me. His tattoos looked gorgeous, even from a distance.

As if he could feel my eyes
on him from across the room, Luke suddenly turned away from the windows and
stared directly at me. For several moments, we just eyed each other, and then
he suddenly turned and walked toward the table where the guys were playing beer
pong. I followed after him minutes later, standing off to the side and watching
again for several minutes. I played it cool, admiring his features, thinking he
had a nice, easy and friendly laugh, and of course, watching the way his
forearm muscles bunched up when he leaned on the table. As his fingers clutched
a ping-pong ball, I could only imagine what they might feel like grasping my
nipple.

"There you are!"

I turned around, feeling the
heat of a flush of embarrassment rush through my cheeks as Desiree grinned at
me. Had she seen?

"He is a looker, isn't
he?" she asked, nodding toward Luke.

She sent me a knowing smile.
"I can tell you have the hots for him," she said. "And he's
real, too, not some fictional character you find in the pages of your romance
stories."

She threw an arm over my
shoulder and guided me toward the beverage table. "Come on, girlfriend, I
think it's about time that you whetted your whistle."