Page 44 of Stroked Hard
“Smog is a killer of the sky, blocks out all the pretty. Puts a damper on gazing at times.” God, he really is a romantic. I don’t even think he’s trying right now. I think that’s just regular stuff he says.
“Do you stargaze a lot?”
“Holly and I used to,” he says absentmindedly. Holly? Uh, old girlfriend? What an odd thing to bring up when you’re holding someone else’s hand. “Holly’s my sister,” he clarifies, causing my cheeks to redden from embarrassment. Hopefully he didn’t catch the stiffness in my arm when he said another woman’s name. Then again, why else would he clarify? Crap!
“Oh?” It’s all I’ve got. I don’t know what else to say.
Pulling me into his side, he takes our linked hands and brings his arm around my shoulder so my hand that is linked with his rests across my chest. It’s slightly awkward for me, kind of looks like I’m saying the pledge of allegiance. Despite being a little awkward, his warm body pressed into my side is actually comfortable. This is so not good.
Leaning into my ear, he says, “Yes, Holly, my sister . . .”
“Got it.”
He chuckles. The sound shoots through my body giving me goosebumps all across my skin.
“We used to look up at the stars from our trampoline. We lived out in the country, and when I say country, I just mean away from the bright lights. We would share a two-liter bottle of orange soda, eat Cheetos Puffs and hope that when we woke up the next day, we would have orange skin.”
“What?” I can’t help but laugh.
“Holly once heard that if you eat too many carrots, your skin would turn orange. We thought since the orange in carrots was organic, maybe if we ate processed orange things we would turn orange quicker.”
“And did you?” It’s kind of adorable thinking of a young Hollis trying to turn into an Oompa Loompa.
“No, we were never lucky enough.”
“Darn.” I chuckle. “Could have been amazing.”
“It really could have been. What a story that would have been to tell. My best friend growing up always wanted glasses, so he would cross his eyes every day until one day, he actually hurt the muscles in his eyes and had to get glasses. My orange story could have been like that. I failed at life.”
“Yes, you failed tremendously. Not being able to turn yourself orange, if only you’d used self-tanner, then your story would have been complete.”
“Damn.” He laughs. “This is why I need you in my life, baby, so you can direct me down the right paths.”
“Yes, the self-tanner, Oompa Loompa, tragically tanned Trump path.”
“I would have heeded your guidance.”
“Good to know.” I scan my apartment building and say, “This is my building. I have it from here.”
“No way.” He doesn’t let go. “I said to your door. I’m a man of my word.”
“Are you really? Didn’t seem like that at first,” I tease.
“Yeah, because I thought if I came close to touching you, you were going to gnaw my dick off and not in a good way. You had ravenous fangs sticking out of your mouth.”
“I did not,” I defend with humor.
“Sure did, bubble-yum butt. It was nice you put them away for the night. Give those dogs a rest, as it can’t be easy flashing your venom every hour of the day.”
“They only come out for you.”
“Ooo, kinky. I like it.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.
I ignore him and lead him up to the second floor. I stop in front of apartment 2D and turn to face him, my hand still in his. “This is it. You can let go now.”
“Two-D huh?”
“Please don’t make a joke about you wishing it was three-D.”
