I think about the couch for a second and decide a night in a bed with a stranger will be better than a night on another piece of lumpy furniture alone in this creepy asshouse.
“We’re both adults,” I say. “And I don't have a groping problem. As long as you’re cool keeping your hands to yourself, I’m fine sharing thebed.”
“I’m not going to touch you,” he says before he turns hisback.
I stand there a little dumbstruck as Silas steps out of his boots and socks and starts unbuttoning his jeans. I take that as a cue that it’s time for bed. I risk toxic shock and step back into the bathroom to change, wrap my hair and brush my teeth. When I come back out, Silas is laying on his back on top of the covers, looking at something on his phone. I try not to check him out, but it’s hard. He’s so large and even though his boxers are fairly loose, I cannot ignore the situation down there. Friend is packing somethingserious.
I clear my throat and try to stash my hormones before I dig out my phonecharger.
“There’s an outlet right there,” he says pointing toward the wall near thedresser.
“Thanks.” I plug in my phone, then textBrook.
I’m where I needed to be. I’msafe.
She respondsimmediately.
Okay good. I’m still worried. Text metomorrow.
Keep me in the loop as much as youcan.
I will. Loveyou.
Isetmy cell down on top of a tattered copy of an Old Farmer’s Almanac from 1975. Then I turn around. Silas is looking at me with his hands across his chest. We’re just going to sleep. I’m hiding from people who literally want me dead, but my body doesn’t seem to give any kind of a shit. I feel a heat I haven’t felt in a long time wash over me. It stops directly between mylegs.
“If we met online it would be this fucking awkward, right?” Isay.
He shrugs, his lips tipping down. “This isn’t awkward for me. You want to get in bed so I can turn off thislight?”
I glare at him, but cross the bit of exposed, tattered area rug and sit down on the edge of the bed. He turns off the light before I lie back, and my eyes quickly adjust to the moonlight that is streaming through his bedroom curtains. The curtains have also seen much betterdays.
“Goodnight,” he says, his voice sounding a little deeper than it was a momentbefore.
I mean to roll away from him before I respond, but that part of my brain that’s in charge takes over and rolls toward the heat of Silas’s body. My arm brushes his. I pull it away and clear mythroat.
“Goodnight.”
Five
Silas
Ishould have slepton thecouch.
I also should have beat Scott’s ass. When he called me and told me to meet him at the old Getty, I knew whatever he had going on was something serious. I haven’t heard from him in almost a year. Not that a cursory “Happy Birthday, Fuck Head” counts as quality communication, but it’s his way of doing things, an excuse to let me know that he is still alive. Scott leaves me the fuck alone. I leave him the fuck alone. It works best for both ofus.
Yeah, when I left the farm I was expecting something big. He did sound pretty panicked and insistent on the phone, but I was expecting something along the lines of him asking me to stash a dufflebag full of cash for some shadyclient.
Or his famous move, the old twin identity swap. No one would mistake me for him these days, but doesn’t mean that would stop him from trying. When he stepped out of his car, he looked like he’d exchanged his gym membership for a steady diet of speed. But of all the shit that came to mind when my piece of shit brother’s number popped on my phone, him showing up with one of the hottest women I’ve ever seen was not one of them. I was really contemplating punching Scott right in his fucking face when he told me that I had to do something for him, that he needed my help. My fist was twitching when he said he actually expected me to let some woman he worked with in the city come live at my fucking house until he figured out exactly who was after her andwhy.
This was always Scott’s problem. Nothing is ever simple with him. That’s why I stay away. I get that the cops aren’t always the most reliable. We of all people should know how badly they fuck up. That doesn’t mean he needs to try his hand at vigilante work. I asked him flat out who this woman was and when he told me it didn’t matter, she was in trouble, I almost walked, until she stepped out of his car and I knew something was wrong. She looked like she hadn’t slept in weeks and she was limping a little bit, but that didn’t change the fact that she was fucking beautiful. Statuesque, with curves for days and beautiful dark brown skin that seemed to glow even under the shitty lights of the Getty. I knew exactly why Scott was calling in this favor. He wants to fuck her. When it was clear he was lying to us both, I decided to put me and this woman out of ourmisery.
It was obvious she needed some sort of help and I needed to get the hell away from Scott before I did something I would regret, or at least never hear the last of when our mom found out. I knew I’d regret bringing her into my house, but I didn’t really regret it until about two hours ago. People think people who live alone are lonely because they can’t wrap their minds around the idea that they could possibly enjoy being alone. I do. I like being alone. It’s fuckingglorious.
It’s been awhile since I’ve shared a bed with a woman for any period of time. Years since I’ve spent the night with a woman, just sleeping and now I remember why. I like my damn space. I have no idea why Liz—or Ebie, as she asked me to call her—even made the comment about groping and personal space. It’s almost two a.m. and she is glued to my side. To make matters worse, Honeycrisp, who has slept in the same chair since I got her from the Browns, decides to join us and has wedged herself on the sheets between our feet. I’ve gone from sleeping alone to sleeping with a strange woman and a dog who’s had philosophical differences with me since dayone.
The other issue is how hard my dick is. Ebie smells fucking amazing and her skin is so fucking soft, pressed up against my forearm and my thigh. I should probably get my erection down before I attemptanything.
I wait. I wait some more. I listen to the soft sounds of her breathing and that doesn’t help the issue at all. I have to move. I have to. I have so much shit to do in the morning, least of all explaining to everyone on the farm who the fuck Ebie is and the fictional account of where the fuck she came from. I need to sleep. I try to move. I do move. I start to ease to the edge of the bed, but she turns away from me, and moves her feet away from Honeycrisp’s fur. I rethink running for the living room. I have the space I need now. I adjust my crotch then I roll onto my side, facing Ebie’s back. Another mistake. The curve of her hip and her ass are staring right at me. I roll back over and face the window. Honeycrisp grunts at me. I almost boot her off thebed.
