When there’s not two of him that is.
Now where was I? Lips. Everett. Yeah. I wasn't done with my assessment.
I force my gaze back to Everett’s mouth, but my words are all for Chance. “Problem, rocket man? Powder pup and I are having a stimulating convo, aren’’t we?” I bat my eyelashes at Everett, I think, unless Chance’s twitch is contagious.
Either way, I make my lukewarm interest known.
“And your bulge is crashing the party.” I give the offending organ a suggestive once over. Probably all I’ll ever see of it. But Sierra probably saw it on account of being different.
Hic.
“You’re hammered.”
“And Cyber wizard here (Sorry, ladies, wand not included. Accessories sold separately), gets it in one. Kudos!”
Hic.
The bulge and I enter a stare-down fit for a western. No blinking, each waiting to see who’ll cave and make the first move.
Finally, bulgey boy puffs out his chest, “Ha! I win! Looks like heishappy to stuff your stocking, ho-ho-ho your hoo-ha, jingle your bell, or tweak your Twas the Night Before Christmas with his giant, half-licked candy cane rod thing.”
Hic.
Everett lets out a whistle, a huge grin splitting his face. Not sure what has him so delighted, butokaaaaayyyyyyy.
“Okay, that’s it. Hand it over.”
I lean into the talking bulge, index finger pressed to my lips, “Shhhh—no talking when the ride’s in motion.”
“We’re not moving, yet.”
Hic.
“Says you, Mister-Can-You-Look-Over-My-Security-Upgrades-Penetration-Specialist man.”
Everett barks out a laugh. "And that's my cue."
He winks down at me, so I rapid-reply a wink right back. I think. Hard to tell. Everything went black for a minute. “Toodle-loo, powder pup number three.”
He claps Chance on the back. "Good luck, soldier. She’s all yours."
“I’m not his, you know,” I say, tossing my head back.
I’m mine.
All me—oh—mine.
Chance drops into the space beside me, his thigh pressing against mine despite the abundance of room on his other side. He settles the blanket over our laps, the warmth seeping into my skin almost immediately.
“Where is it?”
“You tell me. I didn’t know you guys could lose it. Isn’t it attached?” I bend down to check under his hood—or do they check under our hoods?
I need my oil changed.
Next thing I know, I slide clean off the bench—almost die—until he swoops his arm around me and plops me right back beside him.
The real world is hard. Let him find it himself.
