Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I guess neither of us are up for more sinning tonight, because barely twenty minutes later, we’re already back at her place. She’s crashed next to me on her king size bed, all the lights left on, not even bothering to get under the sheets, her fluffy pink comforter swallowing us both up in its squishy silkiness.
One of her fuzzy pink throw pillows is wedged under my neck, and despite my own demand of her to get that military man outta her head, I can’t seem to get him out of mine.
No matter how good showing him up felt.
No matter how satisfying it was to see his face go red.
All I feel when I think about that uptight man is frustration. I don’t know what I expected, either. Was he supposed to apologize to me? Tell me he felt bad about the gas station thing? Kneel and beg for my forgiveness?
I doubt any of that would’ve made me feel better.
Probably would’ve just made me angrier.
“What would you do if some random buff military dude came barging into your life one day making your life hell?” I ask, phone slapped to my ear after I relocate to the living room to watch TV, unable to sleep. “Wouldn’t you wanna kiss his ass?”
“Kiss his—?” Cole sighs. “Anthony, it’s … wow, it’s almost 2 in the morning, and I—”
“Kick,” I grunt, correcting myself. “Sorry, been a long night. I mean, just picture him. He’s built like a … a runway model. Or like a G.I. Joe come to life. Everyone keeps lookin’ at him, even your … your best friend, and you can’t stand it. Wouldn’t it piss you off?”
“You sound in love.”
“Fuck that,” I say through a laugh. Cole doesn’t laugh back. “I know it’s late, but—but I just wanted your opinion on, like—”
“You were out drinking again?”
“I won’t be hungover for church,” I tell him, “so don’t you go worryin’ about me. I just need some moral support or whatever.”
“About a hypothetical G.I. Joe runway model you can’t stand? Is this a real person?”
“No, why would you think that?”
Cole sighs through the phone. “Look, I was in the middle of a really nice dream, and Noah had trouble sleeping last night ‘cause of the dog yapping at a possum in the back yard …”
“Porridge? How’s Porridge doing? How’s my cute Porridge?” I lean back on the couch, grinning. “I love that dog.”
“You can drop by and give Porridge all your usual snuggles n’ cuddles after church if you want.”
“Shit, can’t. Got a thing I promised Mrs. Tucker I’d do in the afternoon. Gotta make a buck where I can. Speakin’ of, did you—?”
“There’s no openings at the Strong Fitness Zone, I checked, sorry, man. Yes, I’m coming back to bed, babe,” he says, I guess to his boyfriend in the background.
I sigh. “I really need more gigs. Or something that isn’t just every Sunday night or every other weekend. Or whenever so-and-so literally can’t find anyone else on earth and I feel like their last damned resort. Why am I everyone’s last damned resort?”
“Look for a job, a real job. Jobs are the money, not these little gigs and favors. What about your father’s pest control business?”
“What about it?” I reply with a scoff.
“Anthony …” Cole sighs. “I really wanna help you, I do. But if you’re serious about cleaning yourself up, you’ve got to stop these late night benders.”
“You’re such a poop party,” I mumble, annoyed. A scream on the TV jolts me up. I forgot I left a horror movie on. I hate horror movies. They’re all stupid. Everyone’s death is preventable. They all die anyway and are always so shocked about it. “And you still haven’t told me what I should do about the G.I. Joe.”
“Your hypothetical nonexistent G.I. Joe? I’ll tell you what you do. You leave him alone at 2 AM so he can sleep, that’s what you do.” Through the phone, I hear more barking. “Shoot, Porridge is at it again. This is not my night.”
“Hey, give her a pat from me.” There’s silence. “Hey? Cole?” I pull the phone away from my ear and realize he hung up. I fling it aside, annoyed, then lie back down and cuddle one of Juni’s cat pillows on the couch. When my eyes close on the horror movie on TV—and the next idiot who could easily avoid the killer but keeps making brainless choices—the other horror appears in my mind: a man whose name I don’t know.
But whose arrogant face I can’t forget.
Leave him alone so he can sleep, Cole suggests. Screw that. I’d rather be the barking dog that keeps his ass up all night.
You’re lower than a lowlife—Angela’s voice echoes.
He didn’t seem like a bad guy—Juni’s voice echoes.
What the fuck is your problem?—that asshole’s voice echoes.