He nods to the screen. “I’m related to this guy. You think anything shocks me?” It’s a logical argument.
I tap the video to stop it, fold my arms on the bar, and look at him like I’ve just accepted a dare. “She said the video was a clit tickler.” I say it with a straight face, but my God, my face is hot. Because speaking of clit tickler…
He holds my gaze for one second, two seconds, three seconds, before he nods stoically. “A clit tickler?”
I nod, still deadpan despite my traitorous blush. “On a scale of one to ten, clit tickler is an overzealous twelve.”
The smile that blooms into dimples appears, and everything in my body wants to climb into his lap and taste it.
Saved by the bell, his phone chimes in his pocket. While he responds to a text, I gather up the pile of soggy napkins and find a trash can behind the bar.
When I return to the stool, I check my DMs and Good Guy just messaged.
Good Guy
I’m here. The line is crazy out front. Meet me around back?
I pocket my phone without responding, and when I stand, Ever is looking at me curiously. I’m one of those people who gets so excited I feel like I’m going to burst on the inside, but it doesn’t usually manifest outwardly. Right now is an exception, because the smile I’m wearing is so big it shouldn’t be physically possible. I probably look deranged. “My friend decided to surprise me. He’s out back.”
He continues to stare at me for a second before he says so softly I almost can’t hear him, “You look so happy, Soph. Fucking incandescent,” with the sweetest smile on his face.
My smile relaxes into something that’s only for him. I reach out and tug on his forearm. “Come on. This good guy should meet that good guy.”
Stepping out into the heat of early evening Memphis, the humidity curls around me. We’re in an alley. It’s shaded, due to the proximity of the multi-story building that backs up to it, and smells faintly of hot, sour garbage from the dumpster not far away.
There’s no one out here. It’s empty. Well, except for the smell. And the cloying, damp air that I’ll never get used to.
I venture to the opening of the alley where the sun is bearing down and look both ways up and down the sidewalk. There are a few people milling around, but no one appears to be actively searching for me.
Walking back into the cooler alley, I pull my phone out of my pocket and type,
I’m outside. Where are you?
I hear a ding not far away.
His response is immediate.
Good Guy
I’m standing right in front of you.
I nearly give myself whiplash when my head jerks up.
And my eyes land on the man only steps away.
Tucking his phone in his front pocket.
He tilts his head, and his face falls a little as he takes in my expression.
“Hi,” he whispers, apprehensively.
So many emotions are bombarding me at once, but confusion seems to be winning, because all I can say is, “How?”
Ever shrugs. “Insta friendship turned into actual friendship.”
I close the gap between us, and when I look at him, it’s almost like I’ve never seen him before. Like a layer’s been peeled back and every ounce of vulnerability is exposed.
“You’re Good Guy?” I don’t know why I ask it like a question when I already know the answer.
