Amanda Hocking - My Blood Approves

“He’s just a guy,” I countered, once again using my ultra-casual voice, and even adding a shoulder shrug for good measure.

“How can you even say that?” She was offended that I’d referred to him as “just as a guy.” In her mind, he’d been stacked up with the gods and should only be gushed about in revered tones normally reserved for shoes and hand bags.

“You know what, I just don’t get it.” I decided that I’d been going about things the wrong way. I’d been asking Jack why other people liked him when I should’ve been asking the people why they liked him. “What is it about him that you like so much?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not.” By then, I was already beyond irritated, but I tried not to let on.

“But you’ve met him!” Jane insisted.

“I know that!” I gritted my teeth and plowed on. “And I still don’t get it.

You’re like crazy about him. You’ve got to be able to articulate what it is that you’re attracted to.”

“He’s just…” Jane fumbled for words, which I didn’t get. He’d obviously been the only thing on her mind, so why couldn’t she explain him? “It’s like…

There’s just something about him. It’s completely indescribable. I just want him.

More than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

“Huh.” That was all I could think to say.

“You’re telling me that you don’t want him?” Jane asked me in total disbelief.

“No, I don’t,” I said honestly. I liked Jack in a really weird, insistent kind of way, but not like Jane. It was much simpler and less carnal. Or at least that’s what I gathered from the way she talked and acted.

“Then why are you sneaking around with him?” Milo asked.

“I don’t know.” There was no way that I could explain it to him since I didn’t fully understand it myself. Something about Jack made me want to keep him a secret. “I guess cause he’s older. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry if you weren’t sneaking around,” Milo replied gruffly. Sometimes, he was way too parental to be my younger brother.

“Did he say anything about me?” Jane returned to the only topic that truly mattered to her; herself.

“Nope.” I stood up and started going through my dresser drawers for clothes. The whole conversation had run its course with me, and I was moving on to take a shower and start my day.

“Not a thing?” Her voice sounded so small and sad, but I ignored it. It was easy to do when I remembered the way she’d woken me up.

“Nope,” I repeated. “But, look, I’m gonna hop in the shower. And you’ve probably got better things to do than wait around for me.”

“I guess,” Jane mumbled. She looked totally dejected, but I figured that in a few short hours, she’d probably be drunk and dancing topless on some poor guy’s table. It was kind of hard to feel sorry for her.

After she finally pulled herself together and left, Milo gave me a brief interrogation on Jack. It took a little while, but I managed to convince him that I wasn’t having sex with him and had no intention of it. Reluctantly, he dropped the subject and allowed me to take a shower. The hot water felt good on my skin, and I let my thoughts wander to where I had left off last night. Then I got to thinking about what Jane said, and how in love she was with Jack even though she couldn’t think of a single reason why.

That’s when it hit me. Jack, the way I saw Jack — attractive with a boyish charm — that’s who he really was. What everyone else saw, like Jane and the waitress at the diner, they were just responding to something that wasn’t real.

The pheromones or whatever were creating some kind of illusion. But maybe I wasn’t completely immune. Maybe there was nothing spectacular about Jack at all, but I was just responding to it on a smaller scale. His familiarity was all part of the illusion, and I was falling for the same trap Jane was.

The television channel TNT, in its infinite wisdom, had a John Hughes marathon running on all day. Milo, who never had particularly understood the appeal of Molly Ringwald, had grudgingly sat on the couch and watched them with me. He tried to convince me to watch something else, but I was stronger than him and manhandled the remote. We had just started onto our second viewing of Pretty in Pink when my cell phone started to jingle. It was going on midnight and I assumed it was Jane calling for some kind of sober cab service (even though I did not possess a car), but I picked up my phone off the coffee table anyway. I’d probably been too hard on her earlier. Much to my surprise, I found a text message from Jack.

So. You haven’t texted me.

You’re very observant. I responded. My plan was to try and be indifferent.

I didn’t appreciate the idea that I had probably fallen victim to some kind of spell or hormonal manipulation. Sure, I liked him, but I couldn’t tell if I actually did or if my brain had found some chemicals that told me I liked him.

Does that mean you don’t want to be friends? He actually typed that, like a note I’d get in the first grade. Something about that completely endeared him to me, and since I couldn’t smell or see him, I decided that must mean that I actually liked him.

No. I do. Definitely.

“Who is that?” Milo asked with an edge to his voice. He was sitting at the other end of the couch from me, and he leaned over so he could look at my phone, but I turned it away from him. “It’s that Jack guy, right?”

“You do realize it’s perfectly legal for me to text members of the opposite sex.” I gave Milo a hard look and he just shook his head.

“Whatever,” Milo grunted and turned his attention back to the movie, even though I knew he hated it. My phone jingled again, and Milo made a humph sound.

Excellent. Wanna do something? Jack messaged.

What did you have in mind? I asked, knowing full well I would say yes to anything.

Anything. Everything. The city is our oyster! Jack texted back.

That sounds pretty ambitious. I replied, but it did sound exciting. He was awfully enticing.

It is. So can you be ready in like fifteen minutes? Jack inquired.

Sure. Meet you outside.

I flipped my phone shut and got up. Milo shot me his infamous disapproving glare but didn’t say anything. In a flash, I touched up my make up and slid on shoes. Before rushing out the door, I promised Milo that I wouldn’t be home too late and that I had my phone if he needed me. He grunted at me, and then I dashed out to meet Jack.

He was already waiting outside, this time in a bright red sports car that looked like it cost more than a house. Naturally, he was grinning wildly when I opened the car door, which slid upwards instead of opening out like a normal door, and jumped inside.

“So, this is nice,” I said, referring to his overly flashy car.

“Its more than nice. It’s a Lamborghini Gallardo,” Jack explained with that foolish grin plastered on his face. “There’s only six thousand of these in existence.”

“Is it new?”

“Nah, it’s my brother’s.” Before I could say anything more, he put the car in gear and it thrust itself headily into the street. I had thought we had gone fast in the Jetta, but it had nothing on this.

“Your brother must be loaded.” The car gracefully slid around a corner and weaved in between cars. Quickly, he turned it onto I-35, presumably so we could get the full effect of it going top speed on the open road.

“He kind of is,” Jack shrugged. It was the casual way someone talked when they never had to struggle for anything, and I wondered if Jack was wealthy and where he came from. “I don’t really worry about money, I guess.”