SpyderMan: lol I don’t think anyone would ever dare call you simple, though I’ll admit I’m surprised you listen to the stars.
mermaidav: Why? Who cares if astrology is real or not? Let girls have our fun, silly things.
SpyderMan: I meant, “I’m surprised you listen to anyone, let alone the stars, you menace.”
My face splits into a smile. A menace. I like that.
mermaidav: Ha. True. What’s your sign?
SpyderMan: Also a Scorpio.
Oooh! Another Scorpio?! Talk about a sign from the universe. Since he’s like me, I don’t need to read about his traits on my favorite astrology app. He’s thoughtful, possessive, secretive and emotionally deep. Still, I open the well-loved app to check our compatibility. My eyes flick across the paragraph, memorizing the words.
Scorpio-Scorpio relationships are intensely passionate and characterized by a strong psychic connection. Their bond can move mountains, but only if they can move past power struggles and challenges that arise from mutual possessiveness and desire for control.
Well, sign me the fuck up. I’m not afraid of a little hard work.
mermaidav: A Scorpion King. Love it. I’d suggest changing your handle, but I like the spy/spiderman pun too much. It always makes me picture Peter Parker in a suit, drinking a shaken and not stirred martini.
SpyderMan: A James Bond and superhero reference in the same sentence? I’m in love. Or trouble. Maybe both.
Hard same, my guy.
Wearing a big, stupid grin, I squirm around in my seat, trying to get comfortable and relieve some pressure on my knees from too-short legs dangling over the side of the booth seat.
SpyderMan: Wish I could stick around to chat, but I’m off.
mermaidav: You going to tell me to be good?
SpyderMan: Haha well, considering your reaction last time, I would, but…
mermaidav: I’d remind you that you literally can’t tell me what to do.
SpyderMan: Yeah, that’s about what I’d expect from my favorite little menace.
Not just a menace, but hisfavoritelittle menace? In his own words…fuck me.He’s out for blood today. Conversations like this make it so hard to let go of this silly crush—those flashes of a more personal side that I’d really love to know better. A dominant, authoritative, playful side.
Like,be good?Fucking make me, SpyderMan.
Now I’m horny. In public. Too bad my orgasms are hard-won and the result of intense focus and vibrations, or I’d rub one out in the bathroom or something to take the edge off.
“I’ve got a lavender latte!”
Nose still buried in my phone, I stand and grab for my drink, hand knocking into someone else’s and nearly spilling the to-go cup.
“I’m sorry!” I gasp out as he says at the same time, “Oh! My apologies!”
I feel his hand on my elbow, steadying me even though I don’t need it, and his warmth brushes against my side. Usually, I don’t love having strangers in my personal space like that, but this one’s on me because I should have been paying attention. Sheepishly, I look up… andup—even in my 3” Mary Janes, I’m still ridiculously shorter than him—and our eyes lock.
Time itself fucking stops as I take in Mr. Tall, Pale, and Inked.
His tawny hair flops just to the side of one of his incredible gray eyes, framed with long dark lashes and heavy brows. His nose is straight, drawing my eyes to full lips that are slowly spreading into a smirk. His chin is broad, and the edges of his jaw could cut glass. Colorful tattoos wrap around both arms, wrist to bicep, and I’m willing to bet they extend up past the rolled sleeves of his button down. I can see a flash of them above the collar, around the base of his throat.
Show me yours and I’ll show you mine…
My stomach does a little flip behind my navel, seeing he’s giving me the same kind of thoroughly interested once-over. Just my fucking type, and attracted to me? No shit. Well, I’m not one to leave a diem un-carpe’d.
“You ordered a lavender latte, too?” I ask, a slightly incredulous smile playing at the corners of my lips.
