Jen
I have a late start the next morning, so I indulge in sulking all the way through until nine o’clock. I’m flicking through meaningless short videos on my phone when I remember what Annie said yesterday about her friend writing the research paper. Opening my email, I find the number and type it in. The sooner I get Adam out of my flat and off my mind, the better.
It only rings twice before a man answers, his voice educated and professional. “Good morning, this is Dr. Sanjeev. May I ask who is calling?”
At that moment, the doorbell rings. I ignore it. Probably someone got the wrong flat. I’m a little flustered when I respond to Dr. Sanjeev, though.
“Oh hi. My name is Jen Marsters. I work with Annie Walsh. I think she’s a friend of yours? She gave me your number because she said you might be able to help me with some information about zombies.”
“It’s possible,” says Dr. Sanjeev. “What is the nature of the information you’re looking for?”
“Well, it’s kind of a long story, but my um… my friend—” Why is it so hard to choose what word to use for Adam? “He thinks he’s—I mean he is a zombie, so we were hoping—”
Dr. Sanjeev cuts me off hastily. “Jen, can I be clear? Is your friend there right now?”
“Yeah. I mean, I think—”
“Have you got them restrained? Tied up?”
I pause. Tied up? What does he think is going to happen? “Ahhh…I think maybe you’re not who I’m looking for.” I’m just about to hang up when the bedroom door opens and Adam strides in, looking very pleased with himself and dropping a large parcel on the bed in front of me. “For you. Open it. I think you’re going to like it.”
“Adam, what the hell? I’m on the phone.” Turning my attention back to the call, I say, “Look, I have to go.”
“Jen! Listen to me carefully, the undead can never be trusted! Just tell me your address. I’ll make sure someone comes out right away—”
I pull the phone away from my ear, shaking my head. Ick. I guess that’s a dead lead. I hang up the call and pick up the parcel. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”
“Sure, but it’s just me. Go on. Open it.”
With a sigh, I tear open the brown paper and pull out the box from inside then pause, staring at the package in my hand. Thebox contains a picture of the exact pink monster dildo I put in my online shopping cart a month ago but never bought.
I glare up at Adam. “What the hell is this?”
He grins. “I saw your shopping cart, and I thought you should have it.”
“You mean you stole my computer and went through my history?”
He looks a little hurt. “No, I just saw it there. Come on, Jen. You wanted it, didn’t you? You probably just decided it was frivolous and not practical.”
I ignore the fact that this is almost exactly the thought that went through my head when I decided not to buy it. “It is frivolous, and it’s also enormous.” The thing weighs a ton. Even holding the box in my hand feels slightly intimidating.
“It’s fucking hot.”
I glare at him. “Oh, so that’s it. You thought it would be hot to watch me use it, so you ordered it for me with my credit card? How generous.”
The slight green of his cheeks deepens a little. “Well, yeah, only you made it sound so bad. It was meant to be a nice gesture.”
Unbelievable! I can’t believe I thought for even a second that he had changed in any meaningful way. I’m about to fling it in his face—at least it’s a fairly respectable weapon—when I have an even better idea.
I have to let out a breath and rearrange my expression into something calmer. “Well, I don’t want a dildo. I much prefer your dick.”
“You do?” I think he’s onto me then, but he just keeps gaping at me.
“Mhmm. Your dick is perfect. Just the right size. Didn’t you see how hard I came around it the other night?”
His grin is back. “Yeah. We should do that again.”
“You’re right. In fact, I want you to give it to me right now.”
