“Stalker.”
“It’s the only place to take a walk over here.” He turns to watch the water lap up the rocky shore. I’m surprised it’s not frozen, but it surely will be by morning. Snow is finally collecting on the ground, and it’s no match for my sneakers. I left my boots in the room.
We walk along the docks, and though most of the boats are gone for the season, the water itself is beautiful enough on its own. The view is stunning. There’s a mountain in the distance, and with the lights gleaming in the water.
“A boat would be nice,” I say randomly, hoping to strike up a positive conversation.
“I’m not really a boat guy,” Dean mutters. Of course he’s not a boat guy. I want to ask him what kind of guy he is, but I keep my mouth shut. I pick up a stray pebble and toss it into the water.
“What’s wrong with boats?” I decide to ask instead.
“Nothing’s wrong with boats. I’m just not a boat guy. Never have been.” He says. “It’s like golf. You either like golf, or you hate it. I’ve never been about that kind of thing.”
“What about fishing?” I ask as we stop, reaching the edge of the dock.
“Do I look like the kind of guy who likes fishing?”
“Honestly, you don’t look like you like much of anything,” I say frankly.
“I like things. Just not fishing or boats,” He says, gazing out across the harbor.
“Or golf, apparently,” I snicker. “Well, I like boats. And I wish I had a big, fancy one,” I say, stretching my arms and hands out to gesture how big my future, potential boat would be.
“That’s nice,” He says to placate me, and I go on describing my boat.
“It’s a yacht, actually. With a full service bar and hot, shirtless guys to serve me champagne.”
“Why do they have to be shirtless?” Dean asks, frowning.
“Because it’s a fantasy.” I laugh. “Do you not have those either?”
“No. I hate fantasies, and all things joyful. I’m the grinch of human existence.” He says, the sarcasm oozing from his voice. “Of course, I have fantasies.” He says normally.
“What’s your biggest non-sexual fantasy?” I ask.
“Non-sexual? Well, there goes like 85% of them.” He smirks. “Kidding.”
“Well?”
“Living in a big house. At the top of a hill. With a big, black dog that doesn’t bark at passing cars.” He contemplates.
“You mean to tell me, your biggest fantasy of all time is to have a pet and live in a house?” I laugh. “That’s like, a completely average, normal aspiration.”
“Well, what’s yours then?”
“I want to be a princess. Like a literal, actual princess who wears a tiara and has a big closet full of ball gowns and goes to finishing school and marries a prince. I’m secretly waiting for my parents to tell me they’re not actually dentists, but next in line for the royal throne.”
“You have the fantasies of a six-year-old,” Dean remarks, but he gives me a smile of approval anyway.
“Well, that’s my biggest non-sexual fantasy, anyway.” I smile softly, and turn around, heading the other way on the dock.
“What’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” Dean asks.
“All of the previous fantasy, but the prince has a big dick,” I admit snarkily, laughing.
“Totally fair,” He pauses. “I’m sorry for being an ass to you. You’re not as bad as you’re cracked up to be.”
“Thanks. I try not to precede my reputation.” I give a harsh laugh.
