Page 22 of A Little, A Lot


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“That would be perfect.” Lines crinkle around Dom’s eyes as he smiles, the rare, genuine smile that I’ve noticed he reserves only for me. He leans in closer, ready to kiss me again when the door to the break room slams open.

“Oops, sorry for interrupting your love fest,” Chloe announces, entering with her hand over her eyes. “But you two have left the entire store unattended. I may or may not have taken advantage of the situation and snatched some books and trinkets.”

I can’t help but burst into laughter. Dom presses his forehead to mine once more before mumbling, “Let’s get this over with.”

At first, I thought he meant getting through the festival quickly because he's not exactly a fan of crowded events. But then he grabs my waist and helps me down from the counter, and I realize he wants to fast forward toafterthe festival. When he’ll take me home and... oh wow, my nerves start to tingle with anticipation. I feel like a damn virgin all over again; the nervous anticipation is real.

Smoothing my peach, mini sundress down from where it hiked up on my legs, I revel in how toned my legs have gotten. While I haven’t been a slave to the gym like Chloe, my daily walks with Dom and Carl have paid off. And it never hurts when I catch Dom giving me a hungry look.

“Be a good boy and behave,” I whisper, walking past him to grab my purse from the locker.

“Oh, I like when you talk like that, Miss Adams.” His low tone sends chills through me. Shaking my head at his train of thought, I feel his eyes on my ass as I walk past him out the door.

An hour later, as the sun begins to set, the festival is in full swing. A live band plays in the beer garden tent, suspicious-looking carnival rides are spinning and twirling, and everywhere people are laughing, dancing, and having a great time.

Except Dom. The poor grump looks miserable where we stand, just outside the perimeter of the beer garden. Chloe left fifteen minutes ago to get us another round, but the crowd has grown so large I’ve lost sight of her.

“I’m gonna go find Chloe!” I shout to Dom.

With a confused look, he leans down. “What?! Can’t hear shit!”

Of course, the band stops playing abruptly as Dom says this and almost the entire tent laughs. The lead singer quips a joke about it, making Dom’s scowl deepen.

Standing on tiptoe, I whisper, “Gonna go look for Chloe, see if she needs help.”

Dom grunts. “Might as well get me an extra beer while you’re there,” he grumbles as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Please.” He adds with a forced smile.

I burst out laughing as the band begins another song, the tent once again impossibly loud. Weaving through the crowd, I cross the far side of the tent to where the bar stations are set up– it’s also far less noisy over here. I spot Chloe immediately, sipping on a beer, enraptured in a conversation with a man I have never seen before.

“Shameless flirt,” I laugh, making my way toward her. Giving her shoulder a playful nudge, she whips around to face me.

“Oh my god! Pen! Shit, I’m sorry!” Beer sloshes from her cup to the ground as she pivots back and forth between me and her new “friend.”

“Thought you might need help grabbing the beers?” I smile sweetly at her as she opens her mouth to give me an excuse. “I’m just giving you shit. Who is your friend?”

“Hi, I’m Paul,” the guy says, extending his hand for me to shake. By appearances, Paul is a typical Midwestern man– average height, average build, decked out in blue jeans, a dark shirt, and a Chicago Cubs hat. “I run the lamp store downtown.”

“Nice to meet you!” It takes everything in me to not laugh, because Chloe and I have a long-running theory about that lamp store. Like, are there that many people buying lamps to justify an entire store for them? Or is it just a front to launder money? “I’m gonna grab drinks for Dom and me. Text me later. I mean it.” I whisper the last part in her ear and she blushes.

“Sorry again!”

I wave her off as I get in line for beers. Dom technically said he wanted two, and, the longer I have to stand here in line and overthink things, I wonder if I should skip another drink altogether. Given what’s gonna happen later. At my house. With Dom. In my bed.

“What’ll it be, miss?” Thank god the bartender snaps me out of my train of thought. By the time I make it back over by the tent perimeter, my panties are wet and I can feel sweat dripping down my lower back– a combination of the humidity this evening and nervous anticipation.

The perimeter of the tent has gotten more crowded since I was gone and it takes some delicate maneuvering for a woman my size carrying two large draft beers to make it through without spilling. I sidle up to Dom, nudging him with my elbow to get his attention. He turns to me, adoration in his eyes as he takes one of the beers. With his free hand, he cups my cheek, tilting my face up to meet his lips in a sexy, albeit short, kiss.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against mine. The band starts playing a slow ballad, encouraging the couples in the audience to dance. Dom just wraps his arm around me and pulls me close to his side. It’s then, when I’m basking in the moment with Dominic, held close in his embrace, that I hear it.

“Damn, I should have made my move when I had the chance.” A woman speaks from behind us, not bothering to lower her voice— and with the quieter song, it’s easy for everyone nearby to hear.

“Ha! Please. He’s clearly a chubby chaser, hun. You don’t want a man like that, no matter how sexy he is,” another woman says, as they both cackle with laughter.

It’s not the first time I’ve been insulted or humiliated by strangers because of the way I look. I’ve grown somewhat of a thick skin— at least, I retain enough dignity to save my tears for the privacy of my own home. I remain incredibly still, swallowing down the feelings of shame, even as their laughter dies as they walk away. Even as I notice people nearby eyeing me in my peripheral vision, as if they’re waiting for me to break.

For a moment, I wonder if Dom even heard them because he’s just as still as I am. Then he moves his arm from around me,reaches down for my hand and links his fingers through mine. He leads me through the crowd as I keep my eyes on my feet. I can’t stand the looks of sympathy, or worse, judgement, from the strangers we pass.

Dom pitches his full beer into the garbage near the sidewalk and I do the same. He doesn’t slow down, just continues to walk briskly down the street with my hand in his. We’re a few blocks away, the noise of the festival reduced to a dull tone, when I tug on his hand, pulling him to a stop.