Almost Matched (Almost Bad Boys) Read Online Free PDF Page A

work in general, but this track is my favorite.  
    Ali’s mouth opens in a silent, ‘Oh’, and then she shakes from laughter, pointing at the object in my hand. “No way! Where did you get this color?”
    Caroline’s eyes become round, and she’s actually blushing. She gets over the initial shock, and grins. Before she says anything, Ali continues, roaring in laughter, “Nat, I had no idea you carried this around. That explains why you favor those luggage-sized purses.”
    A puzzled look must be crossing my face, because Caroline breaks into giggles. “It’s mine! She found it in the bathroom.”
    Ali looks at Caroline, still chortling. “Why the hell would you keep it in the bathroom, girl? Oh, okay. Too much information.” She lifts her palm out to stop Caroline from making any explanation.
    “That’s not the worst of it,” I declare, turning the thing around in my hand, mesmerized by the sparkly glow. “She had it on display. Right on her sink.”
    “Caroline.” Ali shakes her head. “You need a boyfriend.”
    I point the pink rubber penis in my hand at her and say, “You have a point.”
    “Hey, that looks like a sword,” Ali changes the subject, motioning to the dildo.  
    I scrutinize it and slowly say, “Yeah. It kinda does. A princess’s sword. All pink and glittery.”
    Ali jumps up from the floor, runs to the kitchen, and returns a moment later armed with a French baguette. She takes on an impressive fencing stance—one arm bent and raised behind her head, the other grasping the baguette aimed in my direction as if it was a sabre. She bends her knees, legs apart, feet in the proper angles. Ali’s dad is a fencing instructor, and she’s spent years practicing with him.  
    Caroline scoots back on her butt, yelling, “Opponents assume your positions! On your mark, get ready… set…   wait for it… wait for it…”
    I take a stance similar to Ali, grinning in delight. Ali pretends to concentrate.
    Caroline sticks two fingers in her mouth and whistles loudly, then shouts, “Go!”
    “What kind of referee whistles to start the match?” I snort.
    Ali takes advantage of me not paying attention and pokes me in the chest with the baguette. “Ah-hah. Got your tit.”
    “Score for Ali,” Caroline announces, lifting one finger up. She stands up, hands on hips.  
    “Not fair. Her sword is longer than mine,” I object. “Mine is actually too wobbly.” I give it a violent shake.  
    “Sorry, grasshopper. This was your weapon of choice,” Ali rebukes.
    “Fine. I will show you what this beauty can do.” I swipe my hand at a strand of hair clinging to my forehead. “A-yah!” I charge and thrust.  
    Ali and I dance forward and back, attacking and retrieving, crossing our ‘weapons’, and smacking them against one another. We squeal and yell, laughing.  
    Ali dashes back, and then comes forward, baguette at the ready. She strikes, I parry; she strikes again, I dodge. We clash, and she pokes her elbow in my ribs.  
    “Heeyyyyy!” I yell, twisting away. I try to hook her leg with mine, but she sidesteps, and I almost lose my balance. “Just wait, missy.”
    “Forgive me, your highness, but I won’t take this particular advice.” She smirks and strikes again and again.  
    I deflect and block, fending off. We break off, and Ali leaps back. I thrust, and she parries. I thrust again. She ducks, bending her front knee. She slices at the inside of my thigh, her rear leg straightened.  
    “That would be your femoral artery. You’re down on the ground, wheezing in pain. And bleeding to death.”  
    “And that would be your carotid,” I say, calmly pressing the dildo to the side of Ali’s neck. “The blood is pumping from your wound in powerful, rhythmic spurts.”
    “Touché.” She bows. But then she charges again. “But I’m a villain. I play dirty.”
    “You both suck.” Caroline laughs.  
    I parry, forcing Ali to retreat. I smack the rubber penis against the baguette,