Guy opened the bag of chips for me because he knew sometimes I pulled too hard and blew up the whole bag. Then he cracked the Dr. Pepper, took a swig, and wiggled to get in bed behind me.
“Did I say you could get in my bed?” I asked.
“Do you not want me to?”
“I mean, yeah, I want you to, but you don’t even ask,” I argued,sitting up at the head of the bed with my chips.
“Oh, so at my place, you can get right in, but I have to ask at yours?”
I tipped my head to the side, weighing that question. “Point taken. You played really well today, by the way.”
“Thanks. I was glad you came. What were you going to be for Halloween tonight?”
“I was Buttercup from the Powerpuff Girls.”
“Clever. That explains what your roommates were wearing.”
“What about you?”
“Dracula. Same costume every year, so I’m not missing anything by not going out.”
“Let me guess, so you can suck on girls’ necks?”
“Ugh, Kitty, you have the worst opinion of me,” he scoffed, offended. “And yes, you’re right.”
“So my opinion is justified,” I said, feeling righteous.
“But you know, I don’t make love to any of them.”
I snapped to look at him. “You don’t have sex with the girls you get with?”
“Oh, I have sex with them. I just don’t make love to them. That’s reserved for the love of my life.” He said it deadpan, but I could see he was imploding from trying not to laugh. His accent was loud and proud in that statement: “sex wit dem,” and “de love of my life.” He could be simultaneously charming and infuriating.
“Fuck off,” I said, slapping his chest. “I can’t be held responsible for what I said last weekend.”
“Oh, yes, you can.”
“Guy, stop,” I whined. “Not only do I have crippling cramps and bleeding, but now I have anxiety, too.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, attaching himself to my side for a hug. “You know I love you.”
“But am I the love of your life?” I asked, gesturing to him with a chip.
Guy took a breath, thinking. “To be determined.”
I grabbed a tissue to wipe the chip grease off my fingers and burrowed back down in the sheets.
“I think you’re on my heating pad,” I said. Guy started moving his body, looking for the heating pad. Then, to my absolute horror, he shoved his hand under my pillow and pulled out my little purple vibrator.
Guy froze for a second with it in his hand, mouth slowly going into a wide O and his eyes growing round.
“Kitty,” he said like he was uncovering a scandal. “Were you touching yourself when I came in here? Is that why you were mad when I got here?”
“It helps with my cramps,” I huffed, snatching the vibrator out of his hand and shoving it in the bedside drawer. “Getting off is sometimes better than painkillers.”
“Did I interrupt? Do you need me to leave so you can finish the job?”
“No!”
