A floppy cock.
A very, very floppy cock.
“Jesus,” Kai groans, throwing an arm over his face. “Got fucking whiskey dick.”
“It’s okay. Here, let me?—“
It’s my turn to try. I stroke, I lick, I do all the things that usually get him hard in seconds. But nothing’s working. His cock stays stubbornly limp in my hand, and after a few minutes of increasingly desperate attempts, he gently pushes me off him.
I roll onto my back beside him, hands draped over my ribs, staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars some previous occupant stuck to the ceiling. They’re arranged in the shape of a dick.
Classy.
“I’m sorry,” Kai mutters at the ceiling. “I don’t know why?—“
“Me neither.”
“Alcohol,” he says.
“So much alcohol.”
The music rages on downstairs. Someone’s yelling, “Sarah!” at the top of their lungs.
“We should leave,” I say.
“Yeah.”
Neither of us moves.
My eyes are heavy from the booze, but my brain just keeps replaying that scene on the stairs at AHC. Maybe he was in shock, that’s why he looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“Hey.” I roll onto my side, propping my head on my hand. “What happened today?”
“What? Nothing.” He glances at me, then gives me a double take. “I told you, the cop?—”
“Bullshit.”
He’s quiet for a long moment before letting out a heavy, world-weary sigh.
“I just want to forget, okay?”
My stomach tightens. I knew something was up. “Forget what?”
His jaw tightens. “The arrest. The charges. All of it.”
I get that…but there’s something he’s not saying. But honestly, I’m not sure I want to know right now. I’m too drunk to handle the fallout.
“Okay,” I say softly.
He rolls away from me, pulling on his jeans and fumbling in his pocket. A lighter clicks, the flame giving him a warm orange silhouette. The joint Kruger gave him earlier crackles as he hits it.
“Want some?” he asks in a tight voice, passing the joint without looking at me.
I hesitate, then take the joint and inhale deeply. The smoke burns my throat so much I burst into a coughing fit.
Kai doesn’t even chuckle, and I don’t even care.
We smoke in silence, passing the joint back and forth until it’s gone. The weed mingles with the alcohol in my system, creating a floaty, disconnected feeling, like I’m watching myself from somewhere outside my body.
