by Staci Hart
West opened the door, and Lily looked up from the couch where she lay reading.
“Hello, boys. Don’t you look all sweaty and beefy.” She waggled her brows.
West looked like he’d just found Shangri-La as he leaned over the back of the couch to kiss her sweetly. “Let me go get showered up and then I’ll give you a proper kiss.”
She closed her book, beaming, eyes roaming over his arms, across the sleeve I’d done for him. “Hmm. You know, I think I left something in the bathroom. Let me go check and see if it’s there.” It was like I wasn’t even in the room.
She bounded off to the bathroom, and West looked over his shoulder with a shrug, dropping his bag and pulling off his shirt on the way to meet her.
“Guess I’ll shower at Rose’s,” I said to myself, since no one was even in the room with me anymore.
I grabbed a towel and clothes from my room, leaving to the sound of the running shower and a string of giggles.
Rose’s apartment was quiet and empty, and I made my way through, into her bathroom, turned the water on hot. When I pulled off my shirt, I saw her red lipstick on the counter, the dark hair ties and bobby pins, little signs of her everywhere. I undressed and stepped into the claw-foot tub and under the hot stream, thinking about those red lips of hers, wondering if they’d ever be mine again.
Rose
Ellie and I hauled ass up the stairs, plastic Thank You bag in hand full of feminine hygiene products, in preparation for my impending monthly. I was thirty seconds from peeing my pants and regretting not making a pit stop before leaving Genie’s to run errands with Ellie. But whatever, at that point, it was every woman for herself.
Ellie cracked up as I ran down the hallway, face pinched as I hunched over, pressing on my bladder. “You run like a cow, Rose.” She made mooing sounds, and I laughed, then moaned.
“Oh, my God. Don’t make me laugh, you dick.” I bounced as I slipped my key in the door and unlocked it, then dropped everything, keys and all, and bolted through the house unbuttoning my pants before throwing open the door to the bathroom.
And then I screamed. And maybe peed a little.
Patrick paused as he dried off his hair.
He was otherwise absolutely, completely, and blissfully naked.
It was probably only a full second, but I swear to God, my eyes combed every glistening, glorious square inch of him, every tattoo, the curve of his gorgeous ass, thighs, and then, the motherfucking Promised Land.
Not even ashamed. I one-hundred-percent stared straight at his dick. I had no will to stop. Tell me you wouldn’t have done the same.
Time started in a burst of adrenaline and a sharp bladder pang.
“Jesus Motherfucking Christ, Tricky!” I screamed. “Get out! Get the fuck out!”
He wrapped the towel around his waist, looking at me like I’d lost my mind. I maybe kind of had. “Out of the bathroom, or—”
“Let’s start there.” I brushed past him, trying not to touch his soaking wet skin, attempting to not inhale the clean scent of him and failing horribly. I pushed him out of the room and slammed the door.
I rushed to the can and released the Kraken, sighing from relief, dropping my head into my hands, cursing the universe and Patrick alike.
After what was possibly the longest pee of my life, I washed my hands, grumbling at myself in the mirror. “Don’t you fucking let that bastard off the hook. Not this time. It’s too far. Too fucking far, and he almost made you piss yourself. Don’t you forget that, Rose Fisher. You could have had piss all down the front of you while you stared at his dick like a fucking asshole.” I turned off the water and wiped my hands on the towel, pointing at myself in the mirror again in warning.
When I opened the door, Patrick was just on the other side, leaning on the wall with a fucking smirk on his face, black hair dripping and hanging in his eyes, towel hanging around his hips, low enough that I could see that goddamn v, covered in tattoos, all the way down to his—
I snapped my eyes up to his and let loose. “What the fuck is the idea, Tricky? Nobody gave you permission to shower over here, not when you have a perfectly good shower right down the hall where you can get naked and wash your stupid muscles and, and, and whatever the hell else you need to wash. You,” I poked him in the shoulder, “don’t,” poke, “live,” poke, “here,” extra hard poke.
But he was still smiling, that son of a bitch, and I realized he was enjoying this. “I’m sorry, Rose. Really. I thought you were gone, and West and Lily are … uh …” He rubbed the back of his neck, and I tried not to stare at his bicep.
My face screwed up. “Ugh. They are the fucking world’s worst.” I huffed and crossed my arms. “No excuse, man. You should have fucking put on headphones or something, gone for a run or a … I don’t know. You should have not come here.” I looked him over, fuming. “Why the fuck are you still standing here in a towel, anyway?”
He leaned to look behind me. “Because all of my stuff is right there.” He pointed, and I saw his yellow gym bag, clothes folded neatly on top.
I huffed and stepped out of the way so he could pass, and he gave me a long look, still smirking as he closed the door.
Ellie was standing in the living room, mouth hanging open in a smile. And then, she busted out laughing.
I stormed past her and flopped on the couch, folding my arms. “Not funny.”
She caught her breath. “No. You’re right. That was a fucking riot.”
“I’m glad you’re amused.” I scowled.
“Aww,” she said, mock soothing me. “Don’t be mad, Rosie. Let me make you a drink.”
I was still scowling, but I felt a little better at the offer.
The door to the bathroom opened, and out walked Patrick, looking clean and fresh and not at all embarrassed that I’d walked in on him naked. No, he still looked amused, smiling crooked as he approached, gym bag in hand.
“Listen, I really am sorry, Rose. It won’t happen again. Forgive me.”
Those eyes of his begged me, and I couldn’t say no. But I wouldn’t let myself say yes, either. “At least text me a heads-up next time, dude. You’ve got to quit springing shit on me.”
He nodded. “Deal. I’ll get out of here. Hopefully West and Lily are … done in the shower. See you, Rose.”
I sniffed and looked away. “Bye.”
He shook his head, smiling as he made for the door. “Bye, Ellie.”
Ellie waved, her eyes on our drinks as she poured. “See you later.”
The door opened and closed behind me, and a few seconds later, Ellie sat down next to me and handed me a drink, turning so her back was against the arm of the couch.
“I mean, at least you got a peep show.” She took a sip, watching me over the rim of her glass.
I glared at her, but I couldn’t even hold it before we both started laughing. My cheeks were hot. “That was awful.”
“Dude, you should have seen it. You were running like a leprechaun or something, your legs all bowed out. I thought you were going to faint when you opened that door.”
“For a second, I thought I was going to, too.” I took a sip of the sweet honey whiskey she’d poured. “And did you see that?”
Her brows were up, her smile wide as she nodded emphatically. “Uh, yeah I did. Way to go, Rose. You bagged a fucking winner.”
I sighed. “Once upon a time. Feels like a million years ago. Or at least my vagina feels like it was a million years ago.”
She laughed. “Yeah, well, I can see why your vagina misses him. I mean, damn.”
“Yup.” I took a drink.
“Like, he’s tattooed almost everywhere. And I didn’t realize how big his muscles were. He’s fucking cut.”
I shot her a look and changed the subject. “Anyway, I wonder if SkateTreason messaged me yet?”
Her eyes lit up. “Oooh, check your phone.”
I pulled it out of my pocket and unlocked the screen.
“I still think you should h
it up three or four hotties. Get a pool going. Better odds.”
I had a message and I opened it up, feeling nervous and surprised. I was sort of banking on him not responding. “He messaged.”
“What was your message to him?”
“I said, ‘I couldn’t help but notice on your profile that you’re into hamburgers. I consider myself somewhat of an aficionado, so the question is, to bacon, or not to bacon?’”
She made a face. “That’s the weirdest pickup line I’ve ever heard.”
I shrugged. “Maybe, but if he got it then he passes test number one.”
When I didn’t speak again, she asked, “Well, what did he say?”
“He said, ‘Ah, the age old question. To burger without bacon is a sacrilege that can’t be undone. Unless, of course, you’re Jewish, in which case you should probably not bacon.’”
Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Is that good?”
I smiled and settled into the couch. “Very good.” Tell me your thoughts on whiskey.
The little messenger bubble said he was typing.
“He’s online,” I said.
Ellie bounced.
I took a drink just as his message came in.
I’m partial to scotch, but rye whiskey is an easy second. I wouldn’t thumb my nose at bourbon. You can keep Irish whiskey wherever you found it, though. Also, is this a test?
I messaged him back. Sorta.
How am I doing?
So far, real good.
Well, that’s a relief. So tell me, bacon and whiskey thoughts? Conversely, is there a way to combine those two things into one supermeal to rule them all?
I smiled even wider. “I think I may have found a winner.”
14
LUCKY SPOT
Rose
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, I FOUND myself sitting in Roasted once again, waiting on the guy who I’d really wanted to meet from the beginning — SkateTreason. Through our texts last night, I learned that his name was Greg, and he worked at a coffee shop, but more importantly, he loved my favorite things: bacon, skating, whiskey, and 90s movies.
He was basically my perfect match. Hence the nerves. I wiped my hands on my jeans again and picked up my phone to check the time. If this one was the disaster that the other ones were, I was deleting the app from my phone, end of story.
I hadn’t seen much of Patrick that day, or the day before. I mean, besides his dick. I’d worked last night, and by the time I got home, which was extra late, he was already asleep on the couch, face soft in sleep. He looked like a boy, a beautiful boy covered in black ink, sleeping silently on my couch. But we hadn’t hung out, which helped so much. Distance was key to keeping the lid on my feelings, and even just that little time away from him had me feeling more like myself than I had in a week.
The door opened, breaking me from my thoughts, and Greg walked in, longboard in hand, hat low, smile bright. He was tattooed, built but still slim, with a wide chest and narrow waist.
He was gorgeous.
“Rose?”
I smiled back, feeling like I’d hit the online dating jackpot. “Hey, Greg.” I stood as he approached, and I hitched a thumb over my shoulder toward the counter. “Did you want coffee? The lemon bars here are amazing.”
“Nah, I’m a little too nervous for coffee.”
My smile stretched wider at his honesty. “Me too. This is actually hot chocolate.”
He laughed, and we took seats at the table. “I’m glad you messaged me when you did. I was actually gearing up to delete my profile.”
I watched him, amused. “That’s funny, because this was my last date before I gave up.”
He nodded knowingly. “How long have you been at it?”
“Not long enough for me to be as over it as I am.”
“It’s like Russian roulette, except with humans. Maybe less lethal.”
I laughed. “Maybe. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my first date tried to steal my kidney. He actually said — out loud, mind you — ‘I’m really into dead things.’”
He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Ouch. I mean, the last girl I met asked me to fertilize her eggs. Just like that, dead-faced from across the table. ‘Fertilize my eggs.’”
“Oh, God,” I said with a chuckle.
“Another one took me home to introduce me to her doll collection. She had hundreds of them, all lined up on shelves with porcelain faces. I’m pretty sure they were made with human hair.”
I shook my head, smiling. “You win. That makes mine look like a cake walk. You’re only my third date. One and two were a taxidermist who smelled like death and a musician who serenaded me at this very table.”
“This table? Right here?” he joked and pointed at the surface. “This must be your lucky spot.”
My cheeks heated up, smile stretching wider. “I’m telling you. I’m on a roll.”
“Well, third time’s a charm, right?”
“Looks like it just might be.” I took a sip of my hot chocolate, trying to quiet my nerves. “So, you work at a coffee shop?”
His eyes were sort of blue and green, I noticed as I listened to him talk. “Yeah. It’s not glamorous, but it pays the bills. And you’re a bartender?”
“Sure am, going on six years.”
“Did you do the whole college thing?”
I straightened a little in my seat, ready for it to fall apart with my answer. Here it is. The real test. “Nope. Just never interested me. You?”
“I tried, but I just wasn’t motivated. So I took a tip from Ron Swanson: Never half-ass two things. Whole-ass one thing. So, I’m whole-assing my job at the coffee shop.”
I laughed, relieved, and he shook his head.
“I’m not ready to decide what’s next, you know? Everyone keeps asking me what I want to do with my life, and I just want to be like, ‘If I knew, I’d be doing it.’ Instead, I say ‘Chippendales,’ or ‘Tilt-a-Whirl operator.’”
Seriously, so relieved.
“I totally get that,” I said, cheeks flushed as I leaned on the table. “I’m a bartender, and everyone I know has this … passion. Passion for dance or literature or art. Charity. And I’m over here like, I read romance novels, watch a lot of TV, and drink a lot of whiskey. The things I love can’t be monetized, so I bartend. I just want everyone to get off my dick about it, you know?”
“I do,” he said with a nod. “One day, I guess I’ll grow up. Maybe get some sweet desk job where I get a cubicle and have to wear polo shirts to work. Some place with an HR department and insurance.”
I chuckled. “Insurance. That’s funny. I hope to God I never get sick. Like, every time I get even a hint of tooth pain, I flip out. My dentist would be pleased though — I floss regularly. It’s cheaper than fillings.”
“I broke my wrist last year skating and it cost like two thousand bucks.”
I winced. “Ouch.”
“The worst pain was in my wallet. Trust me.”
My phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket, smiling as I answered. “Hey, Ellie.”
“How’s it going? There’s no screeching, so … better?”
I watched Greg from across the table with warm cheeks. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“I can hear you smiling. Is he hot?”
Now my ears were warm too. “Mmhmm.”
“Normal?”
“Yup.”
“Good. Now hang up with me and go lick him like a lollipop.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Ellie. See you tonight.”
“Bye, Rosie.”
Greg smirked at me as I hung up and put my phone back in my pocket. “Lifeline?”
I turned my coffee cup around in a circle. “She saved me from the serenade yesterday. What was left of me, at least. I’m surprised I had the nerve to show my face here again, but the lemon bars called me back.”
“Well, they’re only the best on the West Side.” He smiled sideways at me, and I practically swooned.
“Obviously
.”
He glanced down at his hands before looking back up at me hopefully, but with a confident edge that made my insides flip around. “So, I guess it’s a good sign that you don’t have to leave to help your Aunt Edna after she dropped her wig and busted her hip trying to pick it up?”
“Yes, that’s a good sign.”
He leaned forward, still smiling. “Then tell me, Rose. Would you like to skate with me?”
I smiled right back. “I’d love to.”
Patrick
I stretched, recrossing my ankles on Rose’s coffee table late that afternoon. I hadn’t seen her since the day before. I smiled to myself, picturing her face when she caught me in her bathroom. If I’d had any doubt that she wanted me, it would have been erased in that moment.
I’d denied my feelings for her for so long, now that I knew what I wanted, I’d been revived. Reborn. And all I wanted, all day long, was to see her again.
I thought about the time, wondering how her date had gone today. Ellie spilled the details when I’d gotten there after work, but I wasn’t worried about it, figuring it was just as much of a disaster as the others had been. But I was anxious to see her all the same.
Ellie sat camped out on the couch next to me with Valentino asleep in her lap, eating Cheetos and watching MTV. Somehow, I’d gotten sucked in for two hours of Teen Mom and Catfish, and as the credits rolled on Catfish, Ellie sighed and reached into the foil bag for another handful of chips.
“This is my favorite episode,” she said between bites. “I think I’ve seen it a million times. I mean, think about it. Alyx lied to Kya about being transgender. Can you imagine how scared he was to meet Kya? To think that this person you fell in love with doesn’t know something that would end most relationships just on principle alone. But in the end, Kya accepted him just as he is. Like, that just makes me so happy. Any of us would be lucky to be loved that unconditionally.” Her face was soft and dreamy as she ate another chip.
I sighed too and sank a little deeper into the couch. “Isn’t that the truth?”
The television landed on the DVR screen, and Ellie turned to face me. Valentino gave her a look before stretching and hopping off the couch. “So, are you going to tell me what the deal is with you and Rose?”
