Page 110 of Stroked Long
Bodi: Never. Going. To. Happen.
Ruby: And here I thought you would do anything for me. *sigh* I will see you tonight, handsome. Good luck, not that you need it.
Bodi: Thanks Rubes. Can’t wait to see your gorgeous face. xoxo
Ruby: *fans face* did you just ex oh ex oh me? This girl can’t take the cuteness.
Bodi: Annnnnd last time I do that.
Ruby: What? Why?
Bodi: I’m not cute. I’m rugged, handsome, sexy as fuck, not cute.
Ruby: It’s not like I was calling your penis cute.
Bodi: You better not. My cock is anything but cute.
Ruby: You’re right, on its girth alone it’s more like a bulgy Hulk arm.
Bodi: Bulgy Hulk arm, huh? Well, said appendage can’t wait to see you.
Ruby: Bulgy appendage better be dying to see me. Ask it if it plans on waving to me while I’m in the stands. I would appreciate a little wink from your green noodle.
Bodi: Why do I even continue these conversations with you?
Ruby: Because you crave them.
Bodi: More like I’m wondering what the hell you’re going to say next.
Ruby: I once bruised my tailbone while making a sad attempt at playing basketball. For a week I had to sit on a red “doughnut” and carry it around school. It was humiliating.
Bodi: . . .
Ruby: I called it Sebastian. It was the same week I killed my baby egg in English class. Bad week for this girl.
Bodi: I honestly don’t know what to say.
Ruby: Maybe something like you have my condolences?
Bodi: Fuck, I miss you.
Ruby: That works, too. See you tonight, Bodi.
Bodi: xoxo
Ruby: *sigh*
Chapter Twenty-One
RUBY
“I’m starving. I’m not going to lie, I snuck some of Satan’s mistress’s Tic Tacs while on the plane. I ran out of Swedish Fish. I was desperate,” Paisley said, scanning her menu. “I don’t know what any of this says.”
“Hey, I would have done the same thing if I had anything to snack on. I would eat a cow’s tongue right about now,” Melony responds, also looking very confused while scanning her menu.
Bellini is upstairs in her room sleeping, which is where she will be all night according to her rant in the car on the way to the hotel. Pocket has the lucky job of taking care of Pope Francis, Bellini’s beloved dog, who is actually such a sweet little guy. How he got stuck with such a horrible owner is beyond me. At least she is nice to him.
“Does Pocket creep anyone else out?” I ask, settling on what looks to be tortilla soup on the menu. “When I dropped my stuff off in the room, she stared at me from the hallway, didn’t even flinch. Pretty sure she’s going to murder me in my sleep.”
