Page 262 of Tar City
“Yeah, ask me questions, talk to me,” I say. “Tell me about your… stuff.” I gesture vaguely at him, at the space where the light pole used to be. “I mean, what the fuck was that downstairs, Jax? You bent steel with your mind. That’s not ‘stuff,’ that’s… impossible. You could actually make a decent friend if you tried and actually talked to me,” I say, flicking my own ash over theedge. “Instead of just using your… whatever the fuck that is… to get me naked.”
“Oh, so you’re saying you’d rather me talk to you than bend you over every flat surface we encounter?”
“Yes,” I say, maybe too quickly.
“Liar,” he grunts.
I shift, uncomfortable.
“Tell me,” I press.
He runs a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s fucked up, okay? I’m just trying to get by each day without losing my fucking mind. Not much to tell besides, I can’t control it and I can’t give it back. I hate it but… doesn’t matter.” He looks up to the moon. “Alright? Enough about me. You tell me ‘friend’,” he says, making the word sound like an insult. “Why the hell did you come back? Because I know that was your dream you walked away from.”
I look away.
“The truth, Sisk.”
“The truth?” I shrug. “I don’t know.”
He studies me. “I’d feel like a real asshole if I was the reason you’re back here.”
“It has nothing to do with you, okay?” The lie is so convincing I almost believe it myself.
“Fine.”
I take another drag. “I do miss having my own place though. Really not in the mood to go home.”
“You can crash at my place.”
“No thanks.”
He snorts. “Let me guess. You’d rather sleep in a dumpster behind a butcher shop.”
“Yeah.”
He sighs dramatically, clutching his chest. “But I’m so lonely there. I promise I won’t even try to fuck you. We can just braid each other’s hair and you can tell me all about your feelings.”
I flip him off.
He laughs. “Please? I’m dying to know all about your exes.”
“Exes? Really?” I lean back slightly. “Last I remember, you weren’t a fan of Lucas.”
“Fuck boring perfect Lucas with a small dick.”
“His dick is not small.”
“Yes it is. You are just trying to piss me off.”
I lean back, feigning surprise. “Is it working?”
“Nah,” he says, but I see the way his jaw tightens, the way his knuckles go white where he grips the ledge. “You’re gonna need to try harder than that.”
I lean in, lowering my voice to a whisper. “He was actually really gentle. He’d take his time, you know? He’d?—”
“Shut the fuck up, Sisk,” he snaps, his voice low and cold, a stark contrast to the humor from a moment ago. “The fuck? You think I want to hear about him playing house with you? About him putting his fucking hands on what’s mine?”
“Sorry,” I say, my voice dripping with fake sweetness. “You said try harder. And last I checked, I’m not yours. You don’t do the boyfriend thing, remember?”
