Too late for that. Also, still counts. Family. And clearly this isn’t the first time he’s had to justify this to someone. Probably himself.
“She’s still a member of your family, Kyler.”
“Second cousin. By adoption. It’s not the same. And she was pretty hot back then. Not so much now. She’s about two hundred pounds and five feet tall. But she still gives good head. Comes around when she’s strapped for cash for lottery tickets.”
Dear God, I need to get out of this elevator. I thank my lucky stars this came out before anything could potentially happen between us.
I shudder thinking that this will likely come out after he’s married to whomever he ends up with down the road. Happy family reunion. Divorce papers will likely be filed after that.
“Oh God!” he shouts.
“What now?”
The smell answers before he does, and I can’t stop the horror on my face as the wet spot on his jeans grows under the faint emergency light.
He’s peeing himself.
“I wish I could say this is the first time I’ve done this, but it’s not.”
“You know, some things might be better kept to yourself.”
His eyes widen as he stares in panic. “I have to take a shit.”
“You can hold it.”
He shakes his head. “No, I really can’t. I have IBS.”
“Kyler, it’s been less than fifteen minutes. Please do not poop in the elevator.”
How the hell am I having this conversation with a grown adult? This is something you talk about with a child. He’s a thirty-five-year-old man with zero impulse control across the board, it seems. Sleeping with his adopted second cousin or bodily functions.
“I’m so sorry.”
He yanks down his jeans, and the smell and sounds make me gag. I cover my mouth and nose with my shirt, attempting to mask the scent. I’m not very successful, and I’m seconds away from vomiting.
The elevator shifts, lifting to the main floor. The doors open, and I bolt out of there, not caring about the scene I’m leaving behind.
“Wait, you’re leaving?” Kyler calls after me. “We can take the stairs to the basement.”
I don’t even turn around. This takes the cake—worse than Thomas’s insults before stripping down. At least now I’ll have a new bad-date story to top all bad-date stories.
“I think it’s time to give up,” I mutter as I hurry down the sidewalk toward my apartment building. “There’s not one singledate that makes it worth it. And I don’t see a light at the end of the tunnel.”
Damn it. I was so sure this app would bring me to my dream guy.
Feedback
Sexual Frustration
Bursting into the apartment, I nearly break down in frustrated tears before reaching my room. Of all the dates so far, I had the highest hopes for this one.
Failure and disappointment weighs down heavy on my shoulders.
“Holly? Are you okay?” Decker asks.
I jump when he steps into the hallway. I’d expected to be alone, especially since he’s been avoiding me since the night he picked me up at Thomas’s house.
I also haven’t heard a woman in his room, either. It’s been eerily quiet.
