You’re not a pathetic loser who jacks off to a simple exhalation.
That was on repeat the entire morning while I moved around Kelsey, grabbing coffee and a protein bar while she made herself scrambled eggs, whole wheat toast, spinach, and oddly... black beans. I’ve never seen anyone work so cleanly in a kitchen, nor have I seen someone set out a complete place setting—placemat included—for breakfast. It was hard not to watch.
After her breakfast spectacle, we made our way to the lobby, where a car was waiting for us, and now we’re making our way through rush-hour traffic in San Francisco.
“Did you hear me?” Kelsey asks, poking me.
I glance at where she poked me in the arm and then back at my phone.
She huffs in anger and turns toward me, swatting my phone out of my hand. It falls to the floor of the car with a clunk.
“Hey—”
With her red-painted nail, she points very closely at my face and leans in. “Listen to me, Jonathan Patrick Cane—”
“That’s not my name.”
“I don’t care if your name is Junior Pooper, you’re going to listen to me.”Don’t laugh at Junior Pooper, do not laugh.“I’m sick of you ignoring me. Let’s call last night what it was, a total miss on my end. I’ll take the blame for how things... panned out, but now you’re just being cruel.”
“I’m not being cruel. I just don’t have anything to say to you.”
“You always have something to say to me. Always. From the moment I freaking met you, you’ve had something to say. You’ve never stopped talking, nagging, prodding. You’re constantly in my ear chattering about utter nonsense, and now, all of a sudden, you’re going to stop? When we have to spend two weeks together?” She shakes her head. “Oh no, that’s not how this is going to work. I would rather spend two weeks in a penthouse with you constantly aggravating me with your nonsensical drivel than this silent treatment you’ve decided to try out. You might not think it’s cruel, but it is. It’s not fair to me. You won’t even let me apologize.”
“Apologize for what?” I ask.
“For my presumption the night of the gala. What I said was out of line, JP.” She rests her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. You were right, you were being nice and I took it the wrong way. I never should’ve made that kind of assumption about you. I’m sorry.”
Well... the apology is nice. Glad to see she doesn’t believe I’m a complete asshole. But going back to the playful banter, the “nagging,” as she put it, I’m not sure I can do that. I don’t think I have it within me to control myself.
Messing around with her has been a turn-on. Even when we’re in full-on disagreement, I love seeing the spark in her eyes, the way she huffs and puffs and tries to get her point across. I love hearing her reasoning and watching as her chest gets blotchy with irritation. It’s hot.
And now that we’re close to each other, there’s no way I’ll be able to keep my hands off her. I know it. Especially after last night’s humiliating revelation.
No.
You are strong.
You are handsome.
You’re not a pathetic loser who jacks off to a simple exhalation.
“Thank you for apologizing,” I say while fishing around for my phone. Once I find it, I go back to my emails.
“Uh... that’s it? Nothing else?”
“What else do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know—make a joke about how I tickled your balls?”
The driver’s eyes flash to the rearview mirror quickly before focusing on the road again.
Wanting to clarify things, I lean forward and say to the driver, “She didn’t tickle my balls. She breathed on them.”
“Not on purpose!” Kelsey practically shouts as she leans forward as well, gripping the driver’s seat. “He fell on my face.”
“After she pantsed me.”
“It’s not my fault you weren’t wearing underwear. How was I supposed to know that?”
