“They don’t have everything I wanted.” Bam opens the door for me. I pause.
“I’m only eighteen,” I whisper. Which he knows, but still. “Wait, can you get us fake IDs?” Now a million and one names I could choose for myself pop into my head. Once I met someone named Plum. Weird but interesting. Now I want a plum. I might be hungry after all.
“We don’t need them. You don’t have to be twenty-one to go into a liquor store, just to actually purchase the liquor.” Bam guides me inside.
Why did I not know this little fact? I mean, I’m not sure why else someone would go into one if not purchasing alcohol, but I learn something new every day. I can’t help but take in all the details. There is so much more to this place than alcohol.
“Bam.” A short man pops up from behind the counter, breaking me from all the thoughts running through my mind. He must have been sitting down. “I’ve got your drop.”
“Thanks, man,” he tells him. The man’s eyes bounce over to me. He’s going to ID me, I knew it! Bam just didn’t want me to be nervous coming in. “Don’t look at her. She doesn’t exist.” The man’s eyes snap away at record speed.
“Sorry,” the man sputters. He has to be twice my age. He’s got flecks of gray in his hair coming in on the sides of his ears.
“Bag?” He quickly reaches under the counter and comes up with two of those reusable bags that are packed full of food.
“We’re square,” Bam tells him before taking them off the counter. The second we are out of the store, his free hand is back on the nape of my neck.
“Why did you tell him you were square?” I ask as we walk back toward my house.
“He owed a little debt to the Riders that I took care of for him. In return he let me use his place to get these delivered.” He lifts the two bags in his other hand for effect. “A favor for a favor. It’s not something I do often.”
“You mean you usually don’t get groceries delivered to liquor stores?” I ask, unsure of what he means by not doing it often.
“No. I usually don’t trade favors. You either pay me or…” Bam trails off, not finishing his explanation.
“You can’t leave me in suspense.” I stare up at him. “Or what?”
“They’ll pay. No one wants the or.” The or? What is the or? Then it hits me.
“Ohh!” I nod. “The or.” I run my finger across my throat, being overly dramatic, and stick my tongue out to the side of my mouth. Bam shakes his head.
“I never know what you’re going to pop off and say.”
“I don’t want to burst your bubble, Bam, but you’re not the first person to tell me that.”
“That’s all right. I’ll get other firsts.” He winks at me, and I almost trip over my own feet. “Watch your step, rebel.”
“You’re making flirty, dirty jokes with me. It’s hard to walk and be horny.” Shit. Didn’t mean to say that last part out loud. So I talk fast so maybe he’ll miss it and skip over it. “Box jellyfish have at least twenty-four functional eyes of various degrees on their bodies despite having no centralized brain.” I’m rambling. “Four of its eyes always peer up out of the water regardless of the animal’s body position.” Bam’s brows pull together. “Just saying I don’t think you can really wink with twenty-four eyes. Bet theyall blink at different times.” He thinks I’m crazy now. “Also, I should note they are the most venomous jellies to humans, so maybe avoid them.”
“I’ll do that,” Bam replies as we make our way up the stairs to my porch so I can open the door. I pause at the Ring camera.
“We got food. I bet it’s all that diabetic healthy crap.” I make a goofy face for my dad to see before unlocking the door. Bam’s hand goes to my stomach, guiding me to step back so he can go in first to make sure it’s safe, but we have an alarm. “See, Dad, he’s all gentleman—” I flick my eyes over to Bam, “-ish,” I add before following in after him.
Bam totally missed the horny comment, I think to myself with confidence… I was wrong.
Chapter Fifteen
BAM
Spending too much time alone with a girl puts ideas in a guy’s head. Or maybe it’s just her words that are giving me thoughts. How am I supposed to shovel spaghetti noodles into my mouth when the words “it’s hard to walk and be horny” are running through my mind on an endless loop? I’ve got a hard-on the size of the table leg, and the only thing I want to eat is her.
“This is actually somewhat decent,” Josie says between bites of pasta. It’s made with chickpeas instead of flour.
I couldn’t even tell you what it tastes like because my mind is full of Josie: her pink lips, her little tongue that darts out to catch a stray bit of sauce, her rosy cheeks, the rise of her boobs when she inhales, the pretty expanse of skin on her neck when she tilts back to swallow some milk.
I know she tastes good. Something sweet and tart. The best combination.
“From the look on your face, you either hate the noodles or they’re the best thing you’ve ever had.” Josie says.
