I made out with my girlfriends just to turn guys on. I reveled in the attention.

I couldn’t help myself. I loved people looking at me. I loved knowing I had the eyes of everyone in the room. It felt good. It felt powerful.

And it spelled disaster when my world crashed into the narcissistic Cole Brandt.

He liked to be the center of attention as well. He led his life as though he were always on stage. He was loud; he was funny; and he made sure everyone around him had a good time. He was utterly enticing.

I was attracted to him instantly.

He was molten hot.

Listening to him sing was something close to a religious experience. He was talented and amazing.

And he knew it.

People loved him.

Particularly women.

And I had been no exception.

We slept together not long after Jordan and Maysie got together. I had gone with Maysie to a party at Garrett’s. She had gone off with Jordan. I had proceeded to get drunk. And get loud. And Cole was drunk. And loud.

And we found each other irresistible.

After an evening of flirting and barely veiled innuendos, Cole had pulled me into the pantry off the kitchen and pushed my pants down.

There had been no foreplay. It was me, with my legs wrapped around his waist, my back pressed painfully against a shelf, boxes of crackers and pasta falling around us as he pounded into me.

And when we were finished, Cole had kissed the top of my head, said “Thanks,” and went back to the party.

I had been mortified. I wanted to crawl home with my dignity in tatters around me.

I had sworn never to let him touch me again. I had my pride. I wasn’t the type of girl a guy f**ked and forgot.

I had gone home angry and vowing the worst kind of revenge.

And I had gotten it.

During the next Generation Rejects show, I announced to the packed room at Barton’s that Cole Brandt was the worst lay I had ever had. I grabbed the mic away from a fuming Cole and told them all that his dick was tiny and he could barely keep it up.

Maysie and her roommate, Riley Walker, had tried to pull me from the stage, but I wouldn’t leave. I knew I had pissed him off. He had been clenching his teeth so tightly it surprised me that they didn’t break.

But I hadn’t cared. This man had humiliated me. He had used me and thrown me away. I didn’t take that stuff lying down.

What had resulted was a very loud round of screaming and yelling. Cole had called me a crazy bitch. I had called him a self-centered jackass.

And somehow in the middle of hurling insults, we had ended up in the storage room at the back of the restaurant, our clothes on the floor and going at it for round two.

That had become our routine.

Cole did something douchey. I got pissed off and threw a fit. He got angry at my reaction. We screwed.

And any time we attempted to talk or engage in an interaction not defined by sex he ended up saying something rude and condescending. I would become infuriated and we would be back to where we started.

Naked.

The truth was Cole needed to stop using his mouth for anything other than kissing and singing. They were the only two things he was good at. Talking or, god forbid, trying to have a conversation with him, only got him into trouble.

And I was growing sick and tired of trouble.

But I could never get enough of the kissing.

And that was becoming my biggest problem.

Cole was like a drug that I couldn’t stay away from. And no matter how many times he upset me. No matter how much he made me hate and despise him, the moment he touched me, it became dangerously easy to lose good sense.

My best friends, Maysie, Riley, and Gracie, didn’t understand why I put up with Cole. They argued that he was a womanizing ass. He wasn’t faithful. He would never even pretend to be.

But I knew better than to expect that.

Not once in all of the times our bodies had been joined intimately did we ever kid ourselves that this was something more.

Cole Brandt was NOT my boyfriend. Hell, he was someone I barely liked on a good day.

There were no delusional thoughts of forever and undying love. I didn’t dare expect more from him then what he was currently giving me.

Cole was good for sex and nothing else.

But I was starting to feel the strain of having no strings attached. I was exhausted and tired. And it had nothing to do with the fact that I had less than five hours of sleep.

But this is what I had signed up for. And the thought of not having this, whatever it was, made me sort of panicky. My body craved Cole’s.

And I was okay with our friends with benefits scenario. I had to be. Because the alternative wasn’t something my demanding vagina would be happy with.

My face was covered with soap when I heard the door to the bathroom open and shut and then the shower curtain moved as Cole got in behind me.

I tilted my face under the warm spray and leaned back as he wrapped his arms around me. He gently kissed between my shoulder blades and ran his nose upwards to the base of my skull.

“I missed you,” he murmured into my skin.

Just when I was okay with resigning myself to what we were, to being just fine with the lack of real emotional connection, Cole had to go and do things like that.

He peppered me with soft kisses, hugging me tightly.

“I really love you being here when I wake up. I wish you could be here every morning.” I could feel him smiling against my back and I wanted to bash his head in.

He really needed to shut the hell up.

Emo mushy crap was taking things too far. I didn’t need to engage my heart in this already sticky situation.