Time for you to go.
Lola—
No. Please, for once, do what I’m asking and go.
With desperation and embarrassment swallowing her face, and the top sheet of her bed swallowing her small body, I’d done what she asked.
I’d have done fucking anything she asked and then some, but I motherfucking hated that what she wanted was for me to be gone. It was the very first time I’d ever felt such strong dislike for anything, ever. Action, decision, obligation—this was the absolute worst thing I’d ever put myself through at the hands of someone else.
Still, I’d done it. For Lola.
But the rest of the night had been goddamn torture. One restless dream after another, I’d pictured how unequipped I was to handle a substantial relationship wrestling with how badly I found myself wanting one like fucking WWE stars.
Bound by my emotions, I’d run one errand before coming here—one I’d sworn I’d never cave to—to the STT Wireless store for a cell phone. I felt bewildered and out of my element and completely opposed to change, but one nagging thing trumped any and all of those simple doubts.
If Lola ever wanted me gone again, there was no way I’d be bound and gagged by my own disassociation with modern communication.
I’d be able to get in touch with her, and more than that, she’d be able to get in touch with me. Always.
“Lola, answer the door. I know you’re in there,” I yelled as I knocked.
Only thirty seconds or so passed. “No, I’m not,” she muttered, the sound muffled by the thick wood door between us.
I smiled. Thirty seconds wasn’t bad compared to what I was expecting.
God, her face last night. She’d looked horrified.
“Come on, LoLo. Open the door for Uncle Reed. I promise not to touch you in the bad way,” I cajoled.
I heard the chain give just before the support of the door left my face. It wasn’t exactly the line that I thought would gain me entry, but I wasn’t complaining.
Disgust tinged the corners of her eyes as they met mine. Apparently, I’d won this one solely on shock value. “That is so horribly inappropriate and creepy.”
She wore sleep shorts and a baggy T-shirt, and her pink-tipped feet were bare. Disheveled and falling around her face, her hair entranced me, and it was all I could do not to reach out and run a hand through the silky strands.
“I know,” I admitted easily. “But if we’re operating on a system made up of strictly punishment and reward, you’ve just completely derailed my training.”
“What training?” she mumbled, opening the door for me to step inside.
“Wasn’t that the theme of last week’s column? ‘Train your man to be the man you want him to be’ or some other such bullshit?”
“That was not what I said! It was about oral techniques, for fuck’s sake!”
There she is. The Lola I knew so well—enjoyed so much—was coming out to play. “Huh. Mine might need some revision, then.”
“What? What did you say? Let me see it!”
I pulled the folded piece of paper from my back pocket and handed it over.
“Fellatio-addicted MILFs stuff their mouths with thirteen-inch man meat?”
“Oh, shit,” I muttered through a laugh. “Wrong paper. My bad.” Surprisingly on topic, though.
I reached to my other back pocket for my actual article and then held out my hand for her to make the switch.
“Wait, wait, wait!” she shrieked. “You can’t just drop a paper in my hands with the words ‘Fellatio-addicted MILFs stuff their mouths with thirteen-inch man meat’ and then not address it.”
“Sure, I can.”
“Reed!”
“Relax. It’s just research for my next column,” I lied.
“Reed Luca!”
“Ooh, the last name, huh? Okay. I had a minor role in a B-list porno right when I got out of high school—”
“No, you didn’t!” She poked me straight in the chest, and I laughed.
“I didn’t. You’re right. But if I had, it definitely would have been in a film entitled like this one.”
“I thought you’d never measured?”
I almost said something about how she would know, but thankfully, thought better of it. I was just getting her into the swing of our normal back-and-forth. No need to go and make it awkward by addressing the really, really intense sex in the room.
Instead, I smiled. “You’re right. And thirteen inches? Fuck me, are those moms still alive?”
“I doubt it…” she said before pausing. “Stop changing the subject! What is this?”
I yanked the paper from her hands just as she looked down to read it.
“Give that back!”
“No.”
“Oh my God, you are seriously the most infuriating person on the planet.”
“You liked me last night.” Oh, shit. Watch it, Reed, my inner voice chastised.
Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t turn meek. “I did not.”
I decided maybe it was safe to test the waters. The plan was to address it eventually, after all. Christ, I wanted a repeat, not just to address it. But I had to start somewhere. “That’s not liking me? Geez, Lo. What do you look like when you like someone?”
“I hate you.”
“You don’t,” I asserted. “And if you read the paper now, it will completely ruin the game later.”
Her eyes sparkled with both suspicion and excitement. Mental note: LoLo likes games.
“Game? What game?”
I rolled my eyes. “I have a game for us to play. Obviously.”
“What’s the point of this game?”
“To have fun?” I questioned. “I thought that was the point of every game.”
“You know what I mean. Don’t bullshit me.”
“We took a step last night—”
“No.”
I laughed. “Yes. We did. You know it, I know it, your neighbors probably know it.”
“Oh, my God,” she groaned, dropping her face to her hands in embarrassment.
“But you are doing your absolute best to ensure we don’t talk about it, and I had a feeling that would be the case. So, think of this game as an icebreaker. An introduction into sex and the healthy habit of talking about it with a lover.”
She peeked at me through her fingers and sighed. “Do you ever stop preaching?”
“When all the lessons are learned.”
Her hands fell from her face, and one went straight to a determined hip. “How about you teach yourself to listen when people are talking to you?”
“Seems boring. I’d rather watch for real cues.”
Her eyes narrowed on me as she considered her options. She could throw me out, slap me across the face… Hell, I was sure she had some ideas I’d never be able to think of. But when the dust settled and the truth of her emotion surfaced, getting rid of me wasn’t the route she took.
“Fine. You can stay. For now.”
“Great.”
I waited until she’d ushered me fully inside and closed the door behind me to finish my thought. “We can skip the game if you want—go straight to the part where we have sex again?”
“Just when I think you really are different—”
“Ever think that maybe I’m just saying what you expect me to say on purpose?” I hedged.
“You’re not that smart.”
I shrugged. “Maybe not. But I am fully aware that every time I act in a way you don’t expect, and presumably don’t believe, you become more aggravated and determined to hold me at arm’s length. So maybe the answer to getting to know you, to spending time with you, is to give you some sense of safety through the expected.”
“Just stop talking.”
“Fine. Go get a glass of water.”
She stomped an adorable bare foot. “And stop ordering me around.”
“And a towel.”
“Reed!”
“It’s for the game, Lo. You can’t deny the game.”
“Jesus Christ in a bassinet,” she said in a huff.
I made my best puppy-dog eyes, and she caved.
“Water, a towel…anything else?” she called out over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen.
“Just you, Skeets.”
She stopped in her tracks.
“Reed?” she asked, and for the first time since I’d gotten to her door, her voice was serious.
“Yeah?” I asked, equally earnest.
“Call me Skeets again, and I will mutilate you.”
There was real…something…in her eyes. Maybe pain? I couldn’t pinpoint it, but I knew this wasn’t a battle worth wasting my negotiation on. “Understood.”
I took a seat on her couch and awaited her return. She handed me the glass of water from behind the couch and headed for her bedroom for a towel. I couldn’t help but stare after her, entranced by memories of the night before and everything it had been for me. That hall and where it led. This couch, for fuck’s sake.
“Here,” she yelled, breaking my concentration by shaking the towel out in front of her and then throwing it right at me. I did my best not to spill the glass of water.
“So violent,” I remarked teasingly, and she shot me the finger.
“Just tell me how to play.”
“Sit down on the coffee table,” I instructed.
“Oh, you get the couch, and I get the coffee table?”
“We’ll switch places soon,” I promised.
Seated, with her tan legs crossed, she demanded to know all the things again. “Okay. What do I do?”
I loved looking at her legs, but it was no struggle to concentrate on her eyes. Amber and green swirled together; they were like a perfect portal to her quirky, delicate soul. “Take a drink of water and hold it in your mouth.”
Her eyes narrowed, but she took the glass from my hand and held it to her lips. “And then?”
“Then I’m going to read something to you, and you have to try not to spew your spit water all over me.”
She snorted. “Romantic.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you looking for romance?”
Her answering glare was icy. “Let’s just play.”
“As you wish,” I conceded with a smile.
I waited until she had a full mouth of water and then a couple of extra seconds after that, just for fun.
She leaned forward and punched me in the shoulder.
“Okay, okay,” I said with a laugh. “You’re a demanding little thing.”
Then again, I’d known that last night. Not now, Reed.
I cleared my throat, shook the paper in front of me, and calmly read the title of the first porno on the list. “Plowed by my wife’s mom: a sexual experiment.”
Water covered my face before the final word was even complete, and Lola’s eyes grew to the size of golf balls.
“Oh, my God,” she squeaked like the most adorable stunned mouse. “I’m sorry.”
I grabbed the towel and wiped my face before leaning forward to touch my mouth to hers. So stunned by spewing all over me and my jovial reaction, she let me.
“I’m not. That’s the point of the game, and thanks to your hair trigger, I’m now up by one.”
“This is the game meant to improve our sexual health?”
“Sure is.”
“Why are you so ridiculous?”
“Because it entertains me and you,” I told her truthfully. “Now get your ass over here and switch places with me. Read the next one on the list but don’t go past it.”
“Fine. Drink up.”
I did as ordered.
“But just so you know, I’m hoping you don’t fucking spray me like a hose.”
I waggled my eyebrows. She grabbed the towel, opened it up, and covered herself from the neck down.
“Meaty Poles and Meaty Mommas: 300 Pound-Plus Lovin’.”
I swallowed the water easily after keeping my composure.
“What the hell?” she asked in outrage. “How are you not spewing all over me right now?”
I shrugged. “I guess I’m just more mature than you are.”
“That’s rich. Switch,” she demanded, ripping the towel from her shoulders and shoving me in mine. “Right now.”
She gulped a huge mouthful of water, determined to outdo me.
She raised an eyebrow with teasing ease as I said, “Throat-banged at the office.” But after a brief pause, I caught her off guard. “Part Five.”
Once again, I found myself soaked.
“It does not say that!” she yelled, snatching the paper out of my hands.
I shrugged as she read it for herself. It did, in fact, say that. Granted, I’d added it to the original title while making the list, but it definitely said it.
I was being shoved onto the coffee table again when her doorbell rang.
Both of our heads swung to the door abruptly.
“Expecting someone?”
“No. But I’m never expecting you.” It didn’t take a decoder to figure out she meant that in more ways than my propensity to show up at her door.
It might have been the best compliment she’d given me all day.