Free Avoiding Amy Jackson by N. A. Alcorn

any type of emotional attachment.
    “Any luck on that situation? Is she still in mega-bitch mode whenever she’s graced with your presence?” he questions with an interested tone.
    “No luck. I’m still walking around with blue balls from the other night at the bar. That girl left me high and dry on the dance floor, used my own words against me.”
    I wanted her so bad that night.
    I can still taste the sweet saltiness of her skin. I can still feel the soft curves of her body pressed against me. The sound of her sharp intake of breath and momentary second of weakness are still present in my brain. They’ve been on constant repeat like a popular pop song on the radio. The only difference is that I feel like I’ll never get tired of them, never get bored with the lyrics. I’m only left desperate for more.
    “Yeah, I saw that. She’s quite the pistol. Ready to give up yet?” he asks with curiosity.
    “ Never . I’m never giving up. I’ll get on her good side eventually. I realize I could sustain more physical injuries, but it’ll happen.”
    Trent grins with hilarity, and I’m sure he’s thinking about the handprint she left ingrained on my face the day I helped Ellen move. “You are a masochist.” He points his index finger in my direction. “That woman is a fucking puzzle, and I think you’re in over your head, Williams. She’s out of your league in a ‘you’re never going to understand her’ kind of way.” Trent relaxes back in the booth, his elbows resting comfortably on the table.
    I bet it’s easy to be relaxed and content when you’ve found the woman you’re meant to spend the rest of your life and she actually returns your affection. There’s just something about Amy. Something I can’t quite put my finger on. Something that has me more captivated than any woman I’ve ever met. Yeah, she’s sarcastic and has the ability to be the biggest bitch on the planet, but there’s more to her. There are secrets behind her eyes, a vulnerability that she hides behind her outward display of blatant sexuality and total disregard for caring about what anyone thinks. I want to know her secrets. I want to make her vulnerable. I want to see the tender side she hides from everyone.
    She’s turning me into a pussy.
    “I’m going to take a different approach,” I declare, more for myself than for Trent.
    He sits up a little; both elbows still rest on the table as he places his chin in his hands. “I’ve gotta hear this.”
    “I’m going to talk her into being friends first, and I’m going to use your precious soon-to-be fiancée as ammunition. And then once I get on her good side, I’ll get on her better side.”
    Trent runs his hand across his forehead as he peers up at me in incredulity. “I can’t wait to watch this all unfold. I hope it works out for you, man. I really do. But I have my doubts. If I know anything about Amy, it’s that she does not respond well to being backed into a proverbial corner.”
    I smirk as I recollect the memory of the other night.
    I definitely attempted to back her into a corner on the dance floor. Yeah, we were right in the middle of the bar, but I tried to use her obvious attraction to me in hopes that she would let that ironclad guard down.
    “Don’t doubt it. It’s going to happen. And if I have to pull your ass in to help me, you’ll fucking help me.”
    He holds up both of his hands instantly. “Whoa. How in the hell did I get roped into this? I have no desire to get on Amy’s bad side.”
    I point my index finger towards him with a pointed expression. “You’ll do it because I helped you pull off that ridiculous profession of love for Ellen via karaoke at Murphy’s Pub.”
    I’ve got Trent right where I want him. He can’t deny my part in helping him pull off his little performance for his soon-to-be fiancée. I was the one who went to the bar and got everything set up and ready to go so Trent could sing his heart out to the lyrics of Ray