The Boyfriend List (5 page)

And though she’d had her
doubts initially, about an hour later Reagan was ready to crown her friend the
queen of margarita makers. They were lying on the floor, still bent over the
laptop and notepad they’d pulled from their rooms, and exploding with giggles
at the crazy suggestions their intoxicated minds were serving up to them. Most
of the suggestions got thrown out all together, but enough had stuck out as
legitimate that they were actually making some progress, and had developed a
fairly solid list of feasible traits.

As Reagan drained her
glass – again - she stood to her feet to pour another refill, leaving
Petra to take over at the computer. “A good kisser.” She called out from the
other room, and heard the keys clicking away. “He’s got to be a good kisser.”

“Athletic always helps.” Petra
added.

“And smart. Add that one.”
She announced, peeping over the counter ledge to monitor Petra’s progress.

“That’s boring.” Petra groaned,
but dutifully added it to the list. “Okay, whatever. I guess it means he’ll
make a lot of money.” Then she smirked up at Reagan. “How about a really big…”

“Petra!” Reagan raced
over to delete the suggestion before Petra could finish, nearly spilling her
margarita in the process. “No.” She shook her head. “How am I going to ask a
guy that?”

Petra shrugged, “I
would.” She was still smiling when she finally relented. “So that about does
it?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Reagan
scanned the page in front of her. “Attractive, athletic, smart, sense of humor,
easy going, extrovert, romantic, a good kisser, honest, a good connection, and
most important of all- faithful.”

“Good.” Petra hit the
print button and a dozen pages slowly emerged from the machine. “Now let’s learn
from your past experiences to see where you went wrong.”

She plucked a pen from
the jar and began scribbling the names of Reagan’s ex-boyfriends at the top of
a few. Then she thrust a pen into Reagan’s hand as well. “Here, start marking.”
Guy by guy, they created a checklist for each one – though it wasn’t many
– and determined what each one possessed and what each one lacked.

“A good kisser?” Petra
inquired.

Reagan looked at the
name. “Not that one.”

“No? I would have thought
for sure.”

“Yeah, me too.” Reagan
smiled ruefully. “Trust me though.”

“Well, looks like they
were all attractive, athletic and an extrovert. One was romantic, two had a
sense of humor. But none were easy going, smart, faithful or most obviously had
a connection with you.”

“So basically I’m just
going for the cute athletes.”

Petra scanned the lists.
“Yep. Looks about right.”

“Hmm…good to know. No
more of that for me.” Reagan decided. But her thoughts were interrupted by a
new text, and suddenly she couldn’t stop smiling...which of course she blamed
on the alcohol.

The sudden change didn’t
get past Petra, however, who leaned over Reagan’s shoulder as she tried to
sneak a look. “Who’s that?” Petra’s voice was more than suggestive, which
automatically put her friend on the defense.

“No one.” She replied
quickly, and tried to hide her screen as she pressed a few keys. But Petra had
snatched it from her and raced out of the room before Reagan even knew what had
happened. Again, she blamed the alcohol. “Give it back!” She insisted.

“Well, well, well...”
Glowing with delight at the development, she handed the device back to her
friend, an
I knew it
expression
alighting her face.

Rolling her eyes, Reagan
took another sip from her margarita and slipped her phone back into her pocket.
“See. It’s just Ian. He wants to get together tonight and catch up. That’s all.”

“Yes, I’m sure
catching up
is exactly what he had in
mind.” She smirked, but the comment elicited absolutely no response from her
friend. Petra snatched the margarita from Reagan’s hand to get her attention.
“Tell me again why we’re going through all this when you have a perfectly hot
guy dying to get with you?”

Reagan looked up just
long enough to glare daggers at Petra before snatching her glass back. “We’re
just friends. He’s not my type.”

“Right.” Petra agreed,
nonchalantly nodding her head. “And I’m the Queen of Hearts.” Dancing her way
into the kitchen, she retrieved the entire sugary, messy pitcher and brought it
back into the living room with her, where she plopped it roughly to the floor.
“Whatever,” she sighed heavily, “ignore him if you want. Believe in your
mystery man Brett if you’d like. But just know, there’s probably an opportunity
there that should be taken advantage of.” Without thinking, she placed it on
top of one of the already completed checklists, which drew a sharp gasp from
Reagan before she moved it to a safer location.

“Duly noted.” She
scowled.

Seeming as though she
hadn’t noticed what happened, Petra plucked another clean list from the pile
and began scribbling a name at the top of the form.

“Who’s that one for?”
Reagan stared at her quizzically. “I thought we went over everyone already.”

“Brett.” Petra shrugged. “Seems
a shame to leave him out, seeing as how he inspired this whole drunken mess.”
She indicated the papers scattered on the floor of Reagan’s bedroom.

“But we don’t know
anything about him.”

“Sure we do.” Petra
decided. “We know he’s hot, according to you. We know he’s faithful – or
at least he wants to be.” Petra marked boxes as she spoke, then reconsidered.
“Hmm, maybe you’re right. You could always try to find out more.”

“How?”

Petra grinned
mischievously. It was that same twinkle that had caused Reagan so much concern
at the restaurant. “You could follow him.”

“What?” Reagan tilted her
head in one of her ‘be serious’ looks.

“Yeah, no this is
actually good.” Her skin was practically glowing with the sudden onset of
excitement. “Find out which classes he’s taking, where he lives and then just
–“

“Have you completely lost
your mind! You’re talking about stalking the man.”

“I prefer the term
private investigation
.” She corrected,
her voice suddenly taking on a serious, business-like note.

“No.”

“Reagan.” Petra insisted.

“No.”

“Then what’s the point of
all this then?” But when Reagan merely issued
the look,
Petra relented and moved on. “Fine.” She placed Brett’s
checklist to the side and picked up another, on which she scribbled Ian’s name.

“What’s that?” Panic had
clearly set in. “What are you doing?”

“Just a little insight
for you since you won’t listen to reason. Remember, you asked for this.”

Reagan burst out laughing
as she watched her moving over the boxes. “He’s just a friend. I don’t even
think about him like that.”

“You’re such a liar!”
Petra exclaimed, every ounce of her prim accent streaming through the words. “I
saw how you were smiling when you got his text. And I’ve seen the way you look at
him. He’s obviously into you. And he’s hot – by
my
standards, which are pretty high. So what’s the big freakin’ deal?”

Reagan opened her mouth
to object, but came up short on words. In all honesty, the big deal was that
she didn’t want to get her heart broken and lose her best friend all at the
same time. And that was sure to happen if she even thought about pushing the
boundaries with Ian. She just knew it; he
wasn’t
a relationship kind of guy, and she had no interested in trying to change
that about him. She’d never been
that
kind
of girl. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Petra, for multiple reasons, but
most of all because she knew her friend was sure to have some solution to what
she considered to be a substantial predicament. And she’d rather just leave
things the way they were, it was safer that way.

“Let’s just leave it
alone, okay?”

But Petra wasn’t
listening any longer. “What time is it?” Her sudden urgency simultaneously
broke Reagan from her thoughts and saved her from a regretful conversation.

“I don’t know. Late
probably. Why?”

As Petra stood up,
searching the room frantically for her misplaced keys, Reagan picked up the
checklist she’d inadvertently left on the table. Glancing over it, she quickly
noticed that the only quality
not
already
marked off was “good kisser”, which neither of the girls had been daring enough
to figure out yet – not even Petra. A hint of a smile traveled over her
lips, as she considered the possibility, but she quickly reminded herself that
some things were better left to the imagination. Hadn’t she learned that lesson
before?

 
“I’ve got to go. I told Mark I’d meet up
with him for dinner.”

“What happened to Derek?”
Reagan teased as Petra guzzled a bottle of water before snatching her purse
from the counter.

“Who?”

“From the restaurant.”

“Oh.” Petra rolled her
eyes. “Too weird.”

“Wait, you can’t leave.” Reagan
stood up on her own wavering legs before finding her balance. “You’re drunk.”

“No,
you’re
drunk.” Petra smiled. “I’m fine. Want to come with me?”

“No, I’m not going to
third wheel your date. I’ll just stay in and make something here.”

Tucking all of her new
checklists into a notebook, she dropped the notebook inside a bag and left it
on the edge of the counter. Petra stopped her and put a hand to her forehead in
a motherly gesture. “You? Cook? Are you feeling sick?”

 
“Maybe. Why?”

“Because you’re talking
crazy, and I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

Reagan let out a tired
laugh. “I’m fine. It’s the tequila.” Reagan lifted her glass to cheers her own
comment and took another long sip.

Petra shook her head and
handed her friend a fresh water bottle. “Here, you might need this later.” Then
reluctantly moved to open the front door.

But neither of the girls could’ve
been more surprised to find that on the other side, standing on the landing,
was Ian, who looked as though he’d just lifted his hand to knock. He was
dressed casually, with a grey V-neck shirt that hung loosely around his solid
chest and shoulders, dark jeans stretched tight across his backside just enough
to emphasize the perfectly round, perfectly tight muscle that was beneath. His
trademark, oh-so-charming smile had lit up his entire face, and the twinkle
from his dimple worked it’s way up into eyes that flirted without him having to
say a single word. And to make him even more enticing, as if that could
possibly be managed, there was a pizza box balanced precariously in in left
hand. “Special delivery.”

“I’ll say.” Petra gave
him a thorough going over with her eyes that in no way tried to hide her appreciation
of the gorgeous specimen standing in front of her. “Damn Ian, what’d you do
over spring break? Something’s definitely different.”

Ian chuckled in response,
the kind of modest laughter that was a half-hearted attempt to deflect the
attention, and glanced down at the floor. Had it not been for the quick flush
of red Reagan noted in his cheeks, it could’ve been argued his modesty was only
an act, but she knew him better than that. He was about as real as they came. Then
she caught from the corner of her eye the knowing look that Petra was sending
her, and blushed a little herself. “Looks like I don’t have to worry about you
after all.” Her friend announced with a wink.

Turning back to Ian,
Petra pat him solidly in the center of his shredded abs, her hand lingering
just a little longer than necessary over the appealing ripples. “Take care of
her for me.” Her plea was dramatic, but she quickly slipped behind Ian’s back
and gave her friend an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Reagan couldn’t help the giggle
that escaped.

“What do you mean?” At
first, he was looking quizzically between the two girls. But one thorough,
analyzing look at Reagan - who was giving him a pleasant, drunken smile and
raising her glass to toast the newcomer - and he was beginning to understand
exactly what Petra had implied. He hadn’t seen Reagan that hammered since her
last break-up.

“You’ll see.” She called
as she strode down the hallway. “Have fun!”

“Guess it’s just us
then.” His shrug was casual enough, but had Reagan not been quite so absorbed
in her own little drunken world, she might have noticed the quick flash of
excitement that filled his face at the idea. “Dinner date?” He indicated the
box with the question.

Unfortunately for her,
she
was
completely absorbed in her
own little drunken world, so the only thing she noticed was the pizza box
practically hovering in the hall in front of her.

 
“You’re a god!” She exclaimed as she
rushed to him, rose high on her toes and flung her arms around his neck in an
uncharacteristically uninhibited moment. Tequila does that to a girl, she
decided.

Her cheek brushed subtly
against his, and as their bare skin touched, an electric current ran through
her body, breaking through her intoxicated fog. For just a second, she was
awake, and very much aware that she was settling against the warm nape of his
neck in her embrace. Breathing deeply, she pulled in a scent that was
distinctively
not
pizza – something
spicy and sweet with just the right measure of woodsy thrown in. Whatever it
was and wherever he’d found it, she praised the aftershave gods for creating
it. It had every cell of her body –
every
single one – standing on alert, waiting in high anticipation.