“No. Fucking. Way.” Deena’s voice has gotten loud. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
My ‘maybe’ didn’t work the way I’d hoped. I glance at the phallus again. “I’m not sure. It’s possible.” I look at Deena.
Then, she does something strange. She flops onto her back on the floor and proceeds to laugh. She laughs her butt off.
When she’s finally calmed down (about five minutes later), she rolls onto her side and slaps my leg. “Only you’d end up with a guy who’s gonna split you in two the first time you do it.”
“Huh?” I grab the phone again and stare at the dick. “You think?”
“Oh, yeah.” Deena pushes herself up off the floor. Reaching for the phone, she slides it into her back pocket. “Remind me. The next time I go to the store, I need to pick up a first aid kit.”
And that’s all it takes for me to do what Deena just did. I laugh my butt off.
* * *
“Where’re you headed?”
“Going to Lucky’s.”
“I hope you finally do it. Jesus. It’s been two weeks since the whole dick pic thing and you’restilla virgin.”
“He’s got a broken rib.”
“How long does it take for those to heal, for crying out loud?”
“Weeks. The internet says weeks.”
“Perhaps you should put some pressure on that rib and see what happens.”
“No.” I want to laugh, but I can’t. “I’m not going to hurt him.”
“Look.” Deena gets close. Too close. Placing her hands on my face, she looks me dead on. “If you don’t get that man naked again, I’m going to die.”
She cracks me up. “Deena,” I say through giggles, “you aren’t going to die if I don’t have sex with Lucky tonight.”
“I suppose you’re going to do what you’ve done every single night since you saw his frank and beans…” Deena’s eye rolls are legendary. This one is no exception. “You’re going to eat something, then watch Netflix. Only you don’t actually ‘Netflix and Chill.’” She uses air quotes. “You actually watch Netflix.”
“And?” I say, a little exasperated. “He’s got a broken rib, Deena.” Also, I haven’t mentioned to her that most nights we end up making out like horny teens and that his hands have been all over me and mine have been on him. Heck. Take last night, for example. I used my hand to make him… God, I’m blushing at the memory. I used my hand to make him come, and it was stinking hot. I sort of can’t wait to try it again. “It’ll happen when it happens.”
“Just hurry, will you. I’m dying over here.”
“Why don’t you go see what’s-his-name.” She knows I don’t like her boyfriend. He’s seriously a jerk.
“His name is Marcus, and you know it.”
“I try to forget.” It comes out as a mumble, but I know she can hear.
“Well, if you must know, I cut him loose.”
Thank goodness. But I need to be a friend. “You did? When?”
“Last week.”
“And you’re just now telling me?” What if she’s been hurting all week…? “You okay?”
“Yeah. He was cheating on me.”
“No.” Seriously. “He was? How’d you find out?”
