Connor
No one had ever asked the questions that Katie had.
And that fucking included myself.
As soon as I’d gotten the fuck out of Long Beach and come to Santa Maria, as soon as I’d started making friends with the Bernard Boys and getting tattoos and establishing myself as the meanest motherfucker in town, I burned that part of my past. I murdered it. I buried it sixty feet underground, and I forgot all the fuck about it. As far as I was concerned, I never wanted to revisit it, even if memories from that time would randomly pop up without me wanting to think about it.
But when Katie started asking those fucking questions, it felt like over a decade of suppressed memories came roaring back. And as much as it may have made me look like a fucking pussy, I had to walk out. I had to get some fresh air. I had to fucking deal with all of it.
I didn’t even want to recap what I’d thought about. All of the brutal experiences with Long Beach girls. The bullshit of being the fat kid. All of that, I could have just as easily left behind once I’d given the memories their moments in my conscience.
But it was done. And because Katie had extracted it, I was actually kind of grateful. It felt like I’d had to have a moment like that for some time, but now I finally had, and now I probably wouldn’t have to face anything like it for some time.
As we walked, I could see Katie’s hesitance in asking me anything more about myself. She was probably terrified about how the date was going. And she would have been right to think that inside of Reapers.
But now? I was actually enjoying my time with her. I believed her when she said she was not fucking with me anymore.
“You can still ask me questions,” I had to remind her after a few seconds.
“I’m just not sure what you’ll say,” she said.
OK, fair point. So maybe…fuck. Maybe I have to ask her something about her. I can be an asshole, but I can’t be a dick.
“How do you like living here? I guess, since, you know, you got your parents close by.”
God, I don’t ever sound like this. A pussy afraid to ask questions. Get it the fuck together, Connor. Don’t turn into your old pussy self.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I live by myself.”
No roommates to worry about when we fuck.
When. Interesting that that’s the thought.
“I got two dogs, Jake and Larry,” she said. “I call them the Troublesome Twins because they’re always causing damage in the house. I take way too many photos of them and bug my friends about them all the time, but they’re sweet and keep me sane.”
“Fucking love dogs,” I said.
“You own some?”
“No, but I’m intending on getting a German Shepherd at some point,” I said. “I want something that will tell people not to fuck with me when they see me.”
Katie smiled and tried to stifle her laughter but failed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You don’t think the tattoos and the hair and the scowl will be enough to scare off people from fucking with you?”
I shrugged, though I understood her point.
“You can’t be too careful with making sure people don’t mess with you.”
“Not everyone is trying to mess with you, Connor.”
Maybe so. The Bandits certainly are, and their asshole siblings.
But…she’s got a point.
“I’ll still take a Shepherd when I get my own place,” I said.
