I always wondered what your type was, but I never imagined it would be a hard-core rocker!”
Here we go. I had been hoping he'd be too sleepy for this conversation.
“He's not my type. If I had a type it would be...nice. Not some hotheaded, egocentric male slut.”
“Did you just call him a male slut?” Jay laughed. “Dang, that's, like, the worst language I've ever heard you use.”
I glowered at him, feeling ashamed, and he laughed even harder.
“Oh, hey, I've got a joke for you. What do you call someone who hangs out with musicians?”
He raised his eyebrows and I shrugged. “I don't know. What?”
“A drummer!” I shook my head while he cracked up at his joke for another minute before hounding me again about Kaidan. “All right, so you talked about my CDs, you had some cultural confusion with some of his lingo, then you talked about hot dogs? That can't be everything. You looked seriously intense.”
“That's because he was intense, even though we weren't really talking about anything. He made me nervous.”
“You thought he was hot, didn't you?”
I stared out my window at the passing trees and houses. We were almost to school.
“I knew it!” He smacked the steering wheel, loving every second of my discomfort. “This is so weird. Anna Whitt has a crush.”
“Fine, yes. He was hot. But it doesn't matter, because there's something about him I don't like. I can't explain it. He's...scary.”
“He's not the boy next door, if that's what you mean. Just don't get the good-girl syndrome.”
“What's that?”
“You know. When a good girl falls for a bad boy and hopes the boy will fall in love and magically want to change his ways. But the only one who ends up changing is the girl.

Author: Wendy Higgins