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“Oh shit,” I say as I read his response before reading aloud to Alex.
“Tess. What did you do? Read it, or my tongue stays in my mouth for the next red light.”
“Well, we can’t have that.” He laughs, and I read word for word.
MIKEY: I cry bullshit. You’re a lying fucking stranger. That piece of workaholic shit would: A) Never pass on research. He eats it for fucking breakfast. B) Say thank you. C) He’d certainly never use the abbreviation THX. NEVER. He hates convenient colloquial abbreviations. Is he kidnapped?
Alex confronts me, “You said thanks and abbreviated it?”
I make an ‘I’m sorry’ face. “Total habit. Fuck. Sorry.”
He says, “Charm him, or this falls apart, and I need to be inside you again. Text like your many orgasms depend on it.”
“Now you mention there might be multiples, I’ll fix this.” I read all the responses back and forth aloud.
“You coming once doesn’t work for me. I have plans.” He raises his eyebrows at me, and my thong is soaked again. Damn, he’s like an ice-cold popsicle on a hot day—the exact perfect thing.
ALEX: Not kidnapped, only borrowed. Distracted by a shiny object for the night. As a personal favor to me, the shiny object, I need you to do Alex’s homework for him. His dick needs you to do his homework. It’s your moment to be the hero, Michael Day. Do something noble and grand for your fellow man and womankind in the pursuit of bliss. The path to victory for this empowered lascivious American slut starts with this one monumental favor.
MIKEY: $200 bucks. Venmo me now.
ALEX: Done.
“You’re paying to have sex with me?”
“No. You are. I don’t have a Venmo account.” I access his account and send him the money. His phone dings in response.
MIKEY: Nice doing business with you, Distraction. Also, that was a rather eloquent plea for sex. Professionally written and grammatically correct.
ALEX: Thanks, Michael. Professional hazard.
MIKEY: I feel like you should call me Mikey. You seem too clever for Alex.
ALEX: I might be, and I’ll happily call you Mikey.
MIKEY: Professional hazard?
ALEX: Prostitution.
MIKEY: Sure, sure. Prostitutes are notorious grammar nazis.
ALEX: You’re starting to be a nuisance.
MIKEY: You’ve no idea how much of a nuisance I can be.
ALEX: I’m in your debt, Nuisance. Thx
MIKEY: Tell me you’re interesting.
We’re at another red light, and Alex grabs his phone to respond. “Give me that. Enough with him.”
He stops reading aloud, and I know he’s talking about me. But he’s looking at me with those eyes, making me fucking swoon. I’m actually swooning at his voice and his eyes. His clingy, grubby t-shirt and ruddy low-slung gray sweats that hide nothing make me swoon too. I’m shocked I’m not straddling him and rocking my pelvis against his magical cock. I want to reach over to the hard-on he’s trying to conceal. But it’s sweatpants, dude. There’s nowhere to hide.
8
Alex
ALEX: It’s me, and she is.
