Page 21 of Big D!ck Energy

“Yes, thank you.” More bouncing.

Dallas posed for the selfie, chin down, eyes up, and that perfect smile. Then, he uncapped the Sharpie and signed his name directly across her cleavage.

She bounced off excitedly to show her friends.

“Women love me, Davidson.” Dallas settled back onto his barstool, radiating smugness.

“Isn't she a little old for your taste?”

Dallas's smile didn't waver as he picked up his beer, condensation dripping down the bottle, and set it down. “Can I tell you a secret?”

I narrowed my eyes. Nothing good ever started with those words. “Do I have a choice?”

“I didn't ghost Mia James because of her age.” He leaned forward. “She ghosted me because of it.”

I narrowed my eyes, my face twisting with confusion. “I'm not following.”

“I mean that I don't have a problem with age. They do.” He traced a finger around the rim of his beer bottle. “Women my age want marriage, kids, the whole white picket fence fantasy. When I tell them that's not happening, they're out. Usually with some choice words about my maturity level.”

“Shocking,” I muttered.

He ignored me. “Women between eighteen and twenty-three think they can change me. They stick around until about twenty-two, twenty-three, when they realize…”

“...that you're a lost cause?”

“...that I'm serious about not wanting to get married. Then they leave. Which has earned me a reputation as a player who only dates young women.” He shrugged. “And trust me, I hate it.”

I processed this, studying his face for signs of bullshit. I found none. “So why not set the record straight? Tell people the truth?”

“Because I'd rather have people talk shit about me than about any woman I've dated.” He said it simply, like it was obvious. “Their reputations matter more than mine.”

I took another sip of my drink to drown it. “That's... surprisingly decent of you.”

“Don't sound so shocked. I'm not a complete asshole.”

“The jury's still out.” But I smiled, and he smiled back.

The whiskey in my system made an executive decision. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

I hesitated, wondering if arming my enemy with personal ammunition was the worst idea I'd had tonight, and decided it probably wasn't even in the top five. “What's wrong with me?”

His head jerked back. “My turn to not follow.”

“I mean… In the last few months, I've been ghosted dozens of times, and when they do show up, there's never a second date. So what's wrong with me?”

“Dav…”

“Is it my weight?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “Be honest. I have real pictures on my dating profiles. Current pictures. No Snapchat filters or strategic lighting. Just tell me the truth. Please.”

Dallas stared at me for a long moment. “You want to know the truth?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes. That's why I very specifically said tell me the truth.”

He leaned forward, close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath. “It's not your curves.” His gaze dragged over me, starting at my face and traveling down with an intensity that made my skin prickle with heat. When his eyes met mine again, his tongue swept out to wet his bottom lip. “Your curves are perfect.”

“You're bullshitting me.”