A good time, for a short time.
The third tequila shot hits with that mellow high as I finish painting the last toe on my left foot a glossy candle apple red. Rayne’s gone for sparkly greenish-blue, one leg propped on a pillow while she blows on her toes like she’s cooling soup.
“You trying to seduce a sea creature?” I tease, capping the polish and setting it on her bedside table.
“Girl, I’m so hard up, even a sea creature would look good to me. That one fromThe Shape of Water? He’s fine.”
“Uh-uh. He’s got that li’l ol’ fishie dick. If I’m going nonhuman, I want King Kong.”
She grabs one of her many pastel pillows adorning her headboard and chucks it at me. “Bitch, you so greedy. You already got Dice the Stallion.”
“True. But you seriously going to deny yourself sex until after youwin the election?”
“I’ve already gone this long. What’s another six months? And thanks, boo, for manifesting my win.”
“Always. But I don’t know why you can’t just be you. A thirsty ho running for mayor.”
She cracks up so hard she almost spills her polish, catching the bottle just in time. “Nobody makes me laugh like you. Gonna miss you when you leave.”
“Come visit again.”
“I will. But what about Dice?”
“What about him?”
“What happens when you go back?”
“Haven’t thought about it.”
“Better start. ’Cause one night apart and you’re already pining.”
“Why you being annoying?”
“I’m not wrong, though,” she sing-songs, curlers under her bonnet, wearing another one of her silk pajama sets. Coral tonight.
But I don’t argue. Not directly anyway. “This time apart is good. Space is good.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Seriously. We’ve been all wrapped up in each other. We both needed a breather.”
Rayne lifts one perfect brow. “If by ‘breather’ you mean grinning at your phone every ten minutes—and we know you don’t grin.”
Okay, so I might’ve smiled. A little. But I didn’t respond.
Booth empty tonight w/out you
Bed gonna be empty too
Hope you’re having a good time w/Rayne
Sweet dreams Web
“You’re doing it again,” she points out as I reread his texts.
I can’t deny the tug at my lips or the slow pull in my chest. Like a craving. Like I still want to be back on that couch with him, eating mac and cheese and quotingPulp Fiction, his arm slung around me like it belonged there.
All the more reason space is good. Even if it feels like I’m holding my breath.
