“You are too much,” he says through his laughter. “So, you’re saying that toilet paper saved the day? Not the kiss from a prince?”
“I’m saying,” I drawl out, “the kiss leads to the fucking, which leads to the mess. So, yeah, toilet paper saved the day. Guys have no clue how much of a mess sex actually is. Us girls have to stand up and do this squishy walk-run thing to the bathroom before everything escapes and slides down our legs. Then, don’t even ask me about the stuff that falls to our asses. I feel like I’m wiping an entire gallon of self-lube afterward. It’s really not pretty.”
“Hey, that would be all from you, so you shouldn’t complain. Self-lube from the female says the guy was doing something right. Unless you’re a squirter.” He pauses. “Oh my God, do you squirt when you come?”
“Hello!” I announce. “If I squirted, all that liquid would go forward, not down my crack.”
“So, you’re saying you have no problem with what you callself-lube,huh?” he asks, changing his tone to one that’s sultrier.
“Wow, way to change the subject quickly but slyly,” I tease.
“Hey, you’re talking about sex to a guy who’s on lockdown in his parents’ home after he’s been on the road, living on his own since he was eighteen. My mind will absolutely wander in that direction, especially because I’m calling you from my car in front of your house.”
I sit up and run to the window. “You’re here?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t sure if you had a mask, like the government is recommending we wear if we leave the house.”
“Did you bring me one?” I ask, surprised by how sweet that thought is.
“My mom loves to sew, and when we saw the press conference last night, saying people should wear them, she got to work on making them for all of our loved ones.”
“And you had her make me one?” I’m not going to lie; my voice might have cracked slightly at my question.
I can only imagine the grin I hope is covering his face right now. I’m staring at him through the window, but with how my place is situated on the street, I can only see parts of him through the passenger window.
“You should have seen her face when I asked her to. Let’s just say, my parents don’t hear me talk about girls often … pretty much never.”
“So, you’re not the guy who brings your girlfriends home to meet the ’rents?”
“’Rents?”
“Come on. We aren’t that old. Parents. ’Rents. It’s cool-dude lingo. Keep up,” I state matter-of-factly.
“Then, no, the’rentsdon’t know much about my dating life.”
“Ugh! I knew you were too good to be true. You’re alove ’em and leave ’emkind of guy, aren’t you?”
He chuckles. “No, I’m agirls are too much of a distraction, and I have goals I need to reachkind of guy.”
“And now that you’ve reached those goals …” I leave the question open.
“Time to find out what I’ve been missing.”
My hand covers my chest as I feel my heart beat faster and faster.
“So, yeah, you’ve made my mom’s day. I’m an only child, and now that I’m home and signed to a team, she says she wants grandkids.”
“Is there a guy version of the scene fromMy Cousin Vinny?” I ask, trying to hold back my giggle.
“No,” he says, laughing.
“Then, that’s all you want from me? My womb, so you can get your mom off your back?” I fake being angry.
“And all you want is my toilet paper!” he fights back, and I fall over, laughing.
“Okay, you win. That was a good one.”
He pauses, and as I take some deep breaths, I have to purposely elongate my face, so my cheeks don’t hurt.
