His eyebrows pop up and disappear under the longish light brown hair falling over his forehead. I have the urge to push the locks off his face so I can see his eyes better.
The two times we met before he had a beanie on. Today is the first time I see Liam without it. I expected his hair to be short, military style. But it’s long enough to brush the tops of his shoulders. It lends softness to his otherwise chiseled jaw and steel gray eyes. This is not the trendy haircut popular with so many guys. His hair is long because he hasn’t bothered to have it cut in several months. It should look unkept and messy, but it works for him. It makes Liam more masculine somehow.
He evaluates me, trying to read any hidden meaning behind my words. This is the most honest I’ve been since we met. Yeah, I apologized twice before, but I didn’t mean it. Not that I’m actually apologizing right now. This is more like an agreement to stay out of each other’s way.
“I don’t dislike you,” he says. “It’s just that you say some things that aren’t very socially accepted.”
I almost snort at that.
“You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. Not one drop of my worth depends on your acceptance of me, and I’m not so insecure that I need to gain approval from everyone. I’m fine with you hating my guts, but maybe we can just go on ignoring each other instead of antagonizing each other.”
“I don’t hate your guts.”
“Well, you don’t like them either.”
The smile that precedes his words is so sexy I have the urge to look over my shoulder and see if someone else is behind me. No way he’s directing that smile at me.
“I like parts of you,” he says, his eyes trailing suggestively down my body and lazily making their way back to my face until his gaze locks on mine.
Shivers dance on my spine. My skin prickles and my damn nipples get hard. Again.
I need to have a serious talk with my boobs. Either that or buy super padded bras so at least I can disguise the untimely and unwanted reaction of my traitorous body. I’m at a loss for words and his smile grows bigger. I look away from his face and catch a glimpse of something else growing bigger.
I look a moment too long. He catches me and laughs. The sound is . . . beautiful. Light and inviting. I want to wrap myself in the sound of Liam’s laugh like a blanket—it warms me and fills a void inside of me.
This is a side of Liam I suspect hasn’t come out in a long time. I’m paralyzed by conflicting emotions. My annoyance with him, the need to know more, to get closer, to unburden him from whatever took his joy away and made him the angry person he keeps showing me.
He reads the questioning curiosity in my face and shuts down, putting on the asshole cover again.
I realize there’s a lot more to Liam than he’s letting out and, like me, he’ll go to extremes to protect that side of him.
Chapter Seven
When I walk into Pat’s Cafe, I see River sitting alone at a corner table by the window and after grabbing a coffee, I sit one chair over from her. She’s completely absorbed by whatever is going on her phone, and doesn’t even glance up at me. I take the chance and let my eyes wander over her. She’s tall for a girl, slim, and perfectly proportioned. Long brown hair falls in around her shoulders and frames her face. River is breathtakingly beautiful. Full rosy lips, a perfect nose, big hazel eyes that today are more green than brown, and flawless skin. I can see several guys looking at her with poorly disguised interest, even the ones with girlfriends, and yet she’s completely oblivious to them.
“Wow, that’s impressive!” She’s talking to herself.
River tilts her head to the left and does the same with her iPhone, then pulls her hand back, holding the phone at arm’s length, and moves it from left to right and back again.
She glances at me and back at the phone. “It follows you, dude, like one of those weird pictures. It’s watching me.”
I take a sip of my coffee. “What are you looking at?”
“Dick pics.”
The mouthful of hot coffee I took gets stuck in my throat and it’s trapped in between swallowing and choking me. I manage to get it down and cough, tears stinging my eyes from the effort.
“What?” Is all I can say, my throat still burning.
“Dick pics. I’m looking at dick pics. See?” She turns the phone toward me and sure enough there it is, some guy’s dick in all of its glory looking straight at me.
“What the fuck, River! This is too much, even for you. Why the fuck are you looking at dicks on your phone?” I tried to whisper, but it came out louder than I intended as a couple of heads turn our way. It doesn’t faze her at all.
Her eyes meet mine now and an eyebrow rises at my response. Here it comes. I can’t wait to hear what she says next.
“Before I address why I’m looking at dick pictures, I have a question for you. What do you mean, ‘this is too much even for you?’ Is there some rule or expectation I’m supposed to be following I’m not aware of? And should I assume you never looked at a picture of a vagina before? You never went online and typed Vaginas R Us on Google or some other shit like that?”
I blush. I fucking blush. And I don’t blush. Ever. The last time anyone made me blush, I had to be twelve. Fuck! I have no answer. I can’t deny it and I can’t say it’s not the same without sounding like a hypocritical ass. I fucking bite my tongue and wait for her to move on.
She gives me a few extra seconds to answer and when I say nothing, she goes on.
“Some ass sent me a dick picture. No idea who, don’t know him, don’t want to know him, but I figure since he likes sending dick pics so much, he’d like to get some as well. I’ve been sending them to him all morning.”
My mouth drops open. “You mean to tell me that someone you don’t know sent you a dick picture and instead of deleting it and blocking the guy, you went online to find more dick pics and send them to him?”
“Yes.”
“Why not just block him?”
“What’s the fun in that? He’d move to the next random number. Maybe this will make him think twice before doing it again.”
I shake my head and laugh. River’s moxie seems to have no limits and in an odd sort of way, it’s growing on me. She’s growing on me.
“Did you send it to him yet?”
“Oh, I sent him about a dozen already.”
“What?”
“I’m giving him a taste of his own medicine. Extra strength.” She grins a devious grin and her whole face lights up with mischief.
“I have to see this myself, hand it over.”
She puts her phone in my hand and I scroll up, past more dicks than I ever imagined seeing until I get to the top.
I see the first picture—the picture the random guy sent her and laugh. It’s nothing to write home about.
She scoots her chair next to mine and leans over, her head almost on my shoulder as she peeks into her phone in my hand. “What you laughing at?”
I’m not about to dis another guy’s dick, I shake my head and say nothing.
Then I scroll back again, reading the texts between the dick pics and trying not to look at images.
She replied to his dick pic with one of her own.
Guy: <
River: <
Guy: Sorry bro, I thought you were a girl
River: What? You don’t want to trade dick pics?
Guy: No bro.
River: <
Guy: Seriously bro, no dick pics.
River: But I have more and mine looks much nicer than yours.
River: <
River: <
River: <
River: See? Much nicer, longer, thicker. Maybe you can save them for next time.
Guy: STOP SENDING ME DICK PICS
River: <
River: <
River: <
River: I especially like the last one. All those piercings...a guy’
s got to have a lot of balls to stick metal thru his dick, don’t you think?
River: Balls...get it? LOL
River: <
River: <
River: <
Guy: Bro, I’m not gay. It’s fine if you are but STOP sending those. I thought you were a girl.
River: <
River: <
River: <
Guy: I’m going to kick your ass.
River: You’re just jealous all my dicks are bigger that yours.
River: <
River: <
Guy: Fuck you!
River: With that little thing you got? I don’t think that’s even possible.
River: <
Guy: I’m going to find you and kick your ass
River: #SorryNotSorry dude, I’m going. Maybe think twice before sending dick pictures to people you don’t know who didn’t ask for them. Don’t bother replying, I’m blocking you now.
River: Have fun with the dicks, YOU DICK.
River: One more for the road.
River: <
My whole body is shaking with laughter and she has the biggest grin on her face when I hand her phone back to her.
I raise my hand for a high five and she slaps her hand on mine. My fingers automatically lace with hers and hold on for a few seconds before letting go.
This spontaneous truce we both walked into is not our regular modus operandi. She scoots her chair back away from me and we both grab for our coffees and look away from each other.
Awkward . . .
Chapter Eight
It’s Saturday and Logan has the weekend off, we all decided to go hang out at a local bar and have a few drinks while watching whatever game is playing on the dozen TVs spread around the room. I like this place. It has an English pub meets a barn feel to it with all the natural wood floors and exposed beams crisscrossing the high ceiling. They have good and inexpensive food and dozens of different beers on draft. The pub caters to locals and students from nearby colleges, including Riggins and the University of Vermont. There’s a good mix of twenty somethings and people in their thirties and forties. This is the kind of place that’s just loud enough that you have privacy when talking in a group but not so loud you’d have to yell to be heard.
We’re all sitting around a table we snagged against a wall in the back—it’s not as loud as nearer the bar. And by we, I mean, Skye, her friend Bruno, Logan, Liam, and his date, Barbie. No, that’s not her real name, but she has just as much plastic in her as her namesake, so it’s fitting. I mean, the girl is platinum blond, her lips have most definitely been enhanced with some kind of filler, she’s wearing a ton of makeup. Her boobs could be used as a book shelf and she looks like she hasn’t eaten since she was twelve.
And no, I’m not jealous. My boobs are real, thank you very much. Her looks are the least of the things that annoy me about this girl. She’s the anti-me. The embodiment of everything I hate in other women. You know the type. Overly done, cunning, and playing dumb and helpless. Normally, I’m not one to rag on other people for their choices. I hate stereotypes and the people who promulgate them. But as soon as she figured I wasn’t Bruno’s date, her claws came out. And you can bet your ass those are fake too.
When I saw Liam walk into the bar with Barbie on his arm, I started laughing. In my mind I saw this picture of GI Joe and Barbie together and I was half expecting a pissed off Ken to walk in after them. I didn’t direct the laugh at them, but somehow Liam picked up on it and knew right away I was laughing at his date choice. We had words while Barbie went to the bathroom to powder her nose. No, I’m not making this up. Those were her exact words. Now Liam is pissed at me because I called him Ken to his face. I don’t think he’d mind it too much if I said GI Joe but calling him Ken got his hackles up.
Logan looks at me and then at his brother.
“River?” he calls me to get my attention. I’m a few seats away from him and lucky me, right across from Liam and Barbie. “What did you do now to make Liam so mad?” And then he takes a long pull of his beer.
“Me? I did nothing. He’s probably just pissed because he has a tiny dick.” I smirk, knowing Liam will pick up on my Ken reference. Everyone knows the Ken doll has no dick.
Logan chokes on his beer and nearly sprays the whole table, turning at the last moment and just getting the floor.
Liam glares at me, Bruno laughs, and Skye just covers her face with her hands. Again.
Liam’s date, what’s her real name again, Tiff? Tate? Or something like that, who from here on out shall be referred to as the Prissy One, gapes at me in her perfect little pink cashmere sweater set and knee-length black skirt, with her perfect pink nails and perfect peroxided blonde hair. I hated her on sight and it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact Liam invited her to our get-together at the bar tonight.
Absolutely nothing.
She comes to his defense. “That’s so rude.” She speaks in her perfect upper crust accent. “How could you possible know this? I’m sure Liam’s penis is a perfectly normal size.” She blushes. I’m sure that’s a fake blush too.
“Have you seen it?” I ask.
The Prissy One blushes even more. “No.”
“Have you touched it?”
“Of course not!” she says defensively.
“Then how do you know what size his dick is?”
“Well, have you?” The Prissy One counter-attacks.
“Me? Hell no! Never seen it, never touched it.”
“Then how would you know?” She smiles her prissy smile, throwing my question back at me.
I lean toward her. “Exactly! I never saw it. You never saw it. How do we even know it exists at all?”
Liam speaks for the first time. “It”—he emphasizes the word—“does exist. You’ll just have to take my word for it.”
“Okay, then.” I look back at Liam and there’s a dark promise in his eyes. He’ll make me pay for this. Oh well, in the hole for one, in the hole for a thousand. I continue. “Liam speaks, and he declares he has a dick, albeit a very teeny tiny one.” I hold my pinky finger up.
The Prissy One doesn’t know when to shut up.
“Even so, I’m sure Liam’s penis is perfectly fine,” she replies and then looks around the table, trying to gather support. “Penis size does not matter anyway, right?”
I scoff at that as I take a sip of my beer.
“What? You disagree? Everyone says size does not matter.”
“And who is everyone?” I ask.
“Everyone!”
“Lies.”
“You think everyone else is wrong and you are right? That a penis size matters?”
“I don’t think everyone else is wrong. I think they’re all delusional.” I lean back on my chair, looking the Prissy One over.
“Size matters in everything else. Why wouldn’t it matter for a guy’s dick size? Have you tried putting on a shoe that is a size too big or too small? Fitting a square peg in a round hole?”
“But that is different!” The Prissy One counters.
“Lies, just lies. Told to appease the ego of guys who are unlucky in the big cock department. You know why?” I ask. “Because there’s absolutely nothing a guy can do to increase his dick size, despite all the emails in my junk folder. Women can get bigger boobs.” I stare pointedly at her chest before continuing, “Ass implants, and lip injections. What can a guy do about his dick? Nothing, I tell you. So long ago someone created the lie and everyone jumped on it, content to do so and save men’s fragile dick egos.”
They all look at me uncomfortably. Guys and their dicks. They’re so insecure about them.
The Prissy One does not know when to shut up. “Then, you’re saying that if a man has a small penis, he cannot please a woman?”
“No, I’m not saying that. I’m saying size matters. But if you’re a guy and your tickler doesn’t scratch the itch, do
n’t worry, there’s still hope for you.”
I throw the bait and wait for prissy girl to bite. She doesn’t disappoint. Logan’s already covering his mouth to stop a laugh. I’m sure he can guess what I’m going to say next since I had a similar conversation with Skye in front of him before. Skye just hangs her head, her face already turning pink. Liam narrows his eyes at me. I can tell he’s evenly divided between being amused and offended on behalf of the male species, if not himself.
“So,” she asks. “What can a man with a small penis do, according to you?” She’s seething.
“With his dick? Not much. But he also has a tongue and he better be damn good with it.” I take another sip of my beer.
The Prissy One is as slow as she is—well, prissy. She lets out a little gasp. Her face is burning. Maybe all that blushing isn’t fake after all. “You are disgusting!”
“I take it blowjobs are also out of the picture for you?”
“That is so—so vulgar! But I guess coming from you and the language you use and all the experience you seem to have, I should not be surprised.” And then she raises her nose at me.
The whole table tenses, waiting for what I’m going to say next. She called me disgusting, vulgar, and a slut, all in the same breath.
I slowly put my beer down and lean closer to the table. I’m about to rip her a new one when Bruno chirps in.
“I like blowjobs.”
All eyes are on him.
“What? I do. And there’s nothing wrong with oral sex.”
I see it when Skye looks at him and mouths Thank you.
Bruno saves the Prissy One for now, but the night’s still young.
I look around the table like nothing happened and ask, “Who’s hungry? All this dick talk has me starving.”
When everyone groans at that, I hide my face behind a menu and just smile to myself. My job here is done.
I never saw Tiff slash Tate slash Barbie slash The Prissy One again. Wonder why . . .
Because of Liam Page 3
