I let the phone ring three times. He picks up. “It’s been a minute.”
“I have a question.”
“Always short and to the point. Hit me with it.”
I stand at the bottom of the staircase, my back against the wall. “If I hear one fucking comment you’re on your own next time you need an order filled.”
He laughs. “Let me guess . . . Delta?”
Fucking prick of an assassin. My head falls back against the wall. Just do it. “How the fuck do you date?”
“Kross, you’re thirty years old. What the hell kind of a question is that?”
“You’re getting close to finding a new dealer.”
“I’m going to assume you’ve fucked her then?”
“What kind of man would I be if I disclosed that kind of information?”
“A fucking man. Period. We discuss these things. I guarantee you if Lux wasn’t a damn hermit over school she’d already know about it.”
“This shit is your fault. Just answer the damn question.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Fuck. Yes. My patience is almost gone.”
“Well, then your attitude makes perfect sense. Otherwise, I was just going to say you are more of a psycho than I thought.”
“Like you have fucking room to talk.”
“In what context are you referring to when you ask me ‘how do you date’? Everyone has dated in some form.”
“Not me.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“Goddammit, Kaston. I’m about to hang up and say fuck it and go on about things like I always have. I’m not in the mood for the jokes. I wouldn’t have called your pussy-whipped ass if I wasn’t serious.”
“Shit. Hold on.” Muffling comes through the line. “Hey, I gotta talk to Kross about something. I’ll be back in a minute.”
A door opens and shuts, before silence follows. The legs of a chair scrape against concrete. “Calm your shit. By date do you mean the casual act of existing monogamously with one woman or by date do you mean what kind of stuff do you do when you take her somewhere to prove she’s different than a fuck?”
“All of the above.”
“Does she know about your side career?”
I glance up the stairs at the closed door. “Yes.”
“And she’s okay with it all?”
“Getting there, I think.”
He takes a deep breath. “Dating in any sense is pretty easy. Consider it like hanging out with your best friend; except she’s a girl, she’s hot, and you get to fuck her in your spare time.”
“I don’t have friends.”
“Try talking.”
“About what? I already talk more than I ever have in my entire life. You know I’m not a talker when it comes to unnecessary shit.”
“Fuck, Kross. You may have to change a little. Women like to talk; sometimes a little too much. Those few times are when you just let it go in one ear and out the other, using common words or phrases like yeah, you don’t say, or fuck them. It’s almost failproof. All men do it. If she gets silent for more than a few seconds, act like you didn’t hear her, because in that case she asked a question and is waiting on an answer.”
“Telling her to shut the fuck up for a little while seems more honest.”
“Then your pussy would be your pussy no more. Look, dating in general is about finding balance. We’re two different species. Well, everyone but Lux. You know what? Scratch that. Maybe I need to go at this from an angle you understand. When you find a weapon you aren’t that familiar with what do you do?”
“I study it, research its history, and use hands on discovery until it’s second nature. What else would I do?”
“Exactly. Delta is the new weapon. Right now, she’s an unfamiliar object for you. You like the way she looks and feels or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. She’s piqued your curiosity to the point you want to experience something new. For the most part, you just wing it. They’re all too different to really place in a category. The stuff most of us do when you don’t have to work is watch television together, cook, drink in the Jacuzzi so you can relax and still get to know her. Or just go out somewhere. You don’t have to open up all at once.”
This is stressing me the fuck out. “And if I take her out?”
“What does she like?”
“Rock. Tattoos. I’m not really sure.”
“Figure out her interests through the question game. Then it becomes easy. Take her out to dinner or a concert. Think of stuff that you like to do and she probably will too. I’m pretty sure you two are more alike than you think. If you really want to go all out, take her on a trip. It’s always easier to find shit to do when you’re on vacation and work isn’t part of the equation. If she’s like Lux—and I’m going to guess she is since they’re almost glued at the hip until recently—she hasn’t gotten out much. It’s sad really, and when you see if for yourself it tears your walls down.”
“What about sleeping together? She brought it up again.”
“I’m assuming when she stays over she’ll sleep with you. What do you mean?”
“She lives with me.”
“What? Since when?”
“The night after our meeting.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to work that fast.”
“Circumstances arose. I dealt with it. Again, you have no fucking room to talk.”
“That wasn’t a judgmental comment. I was at that crossroads once not all that long ago. I’m just surprised. If she doesn’t already sleep with you then where does she sleep?”
“Her room.”
“Do you want to share a room with her?”
“I don’t know. Fuck. I’ve always been by myself. I’ve never coexisted with a female. Or really been involved with one for that matter. Does she have to move all her stuff in there and make it girly?”
“Have you not looked at Delta? She’s hardly girly. Lux is girly and she hasn’t even done that shit. But yes, if you share space with someone your things become mixed in a sense. It’s not as bad as it seems.”
“Maybe we can just try sharing a bed first.”
“You could do that. There are no rules except faithfulness. You can’t go shoving your dick in anyone else.”
“I get plenty. I don’t need or want any more than what she’s already giving.”
“Want to double?”
“Double what?”
“Date. Seriously? Have you been under a rock your entire life? I know you’re the loner, asshole type, but everyone at least knows how it all works.”
“Something like that,” I say. “I’ll get back to you. I’ll holler at you later.”
“Later.”
I disconnect the call and set my phone on the small table in front of the stairs. “Fucking wing it. Yeah right.”
I stare up the steps. I’m growing a conscience and I don’t know that I particularly like it. Yesterday, after that completely inappropriate office sex, we stayed busy all day. Professionalism has always been something I do well, and the two of us blew that to shit in a hurry.
After we closed down the shop, she went on a drop with me, so we didn’t get home ‘til almost daylight since it was a pretty good stretch of a drive.
Today we’re closed. Sundays are by appointment request only if someone wants to book or if I just decide I’d rather work, which happened often in the past. It was never easy to be alone in my thoughts. There are weekends we all stay in the shop like last weekend, and then there are Sundays I give everyone a life. That would be today.
When we got home, Delta walked up the stairs to her room like a zombie. I half expected her to want to come to my room, but she didn’t ask, so I didn’t either.
I’ve kept to myself all day, trying to work everything out in my head after yesterday. At one point, thoughts were running together and repeating until I just couldn’t take it anymore, hence the phone call I didn’t want to make.
I walk up the stairs and open the door. The bedroom light was shining through the bottom crack, so I know she’s awake. The only thing visible from beneath the fluffy, white comforter is black hair in a huge messy pile and black fingernails wrapped around the latest copy of Inked magazine.
Before I can stop it, a smile appears. That’s a view I wasn’t expecting, though I don’t know why I’m surprised. The guilt settles. Maybe I do need to give her practice sessions on real skin that won’t have a negative outcome if it’s messed up.
The magazine slowly lowers. “What’s up?”
Yep. I’m breeding a monster. “Who’s hot and cold now?”
“The person who’s been ignored all day?”
The outside of my fist bangs lightly against the inside frame of the door. “I was trying to work out some things.”
“Is that going well for you?”
“No.” I grab the top of the frame with both hands. “I had to call Kaston.”
“About?”
“Dating advice.”
“Who does he think you’re interested in?”
“I told him.”
Her smile starts to form. I don’t think she realizes how much more beautiful it makes her. “You told someone about us on your own free will?”
“Yes. Why haven’t you told Lux?”
“You haven’t been public about us except in psychotic meltdowns over other men. Lux is busy with culinary school. We go days between talking. And I didn’t want to push you too far and risk pushing you away completely.”
My hands tighten around the wood. “Delta, you do realize I’ve never done this before, right? I have no fucking idea what kind of stuff is normal. I’m sure I’m going to suck at this couple thing, but for whatever ungodly reason, I’m going to give it a shot, because someone else is not going to take my place.”
She closes the magazine and sets it on the bed as she pats the mattress on the other side, closest to me. “Come in.”
I walk inside and sit down beside her, facing the doorway. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Okay.” Questions freak me the hell out.
“How short is your list?”
I look at her. “I don’t know. Two hand count, maybe more. It wasn’t a number I focused on.”
“Mine too,” she says with a smile. She looks away for a second. “I have another question. I think it would help me to understand the things that actually bother me.”
She waits for an answer. “Just ask.”
“What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sex?”
“About a year, I think. Sex is different for me than most. It requires being close to someone in privacy for a length of time; both of which bring back bad memories. I don’t do companionship very well in any form. I was forced to be alone until I wanted it, needed it even. I don’t know any different. I was already set in those ways past the point of learning new behavior. Drugs, ammo, guns, those are things that people want with no other expectations. Finding it, stealing it, whatever the fuck it takes to get it, requires very little human interaction. All I have to be is the efficient delivery boy and I get a hefty payday. Emotions, feelings, and closeness aren’t part of it. It’s an easy life for me. Tattoos are an outlet for the things inside my head. As for the sex, my hand elicits the same outcome without the stress of the rest.”
“You never wanted this with anyone else? Not even an interest?”
“No.”
“You said you’re thirty, right?”
“Yes.” Still, I’m frustrated. “I’ve always been a pretty smart person, despite having to teach myself everything I know, but I don’t know how to do this without looking like a dumbass. I don’t like the way this feels. I don’t even know where to start. I’ve always been by myself. I know my own shit. I don’t have to tell it to anyone else.”
Her grin stretches. “It will get easier. Why did you come to my room?”
Her eyes are lighter in shade. They usually are when she’s laughing or having fun. They get darker when she’s angry or upset. “What kind of stuff do you like?”
“The same stuff as you.” She laughs. “Will you just forget everything Kaston told you? Talk to me like one of the boys. We can figure this out on our own.”
“Thank fuck. I don’t think I would be good at anything he said.”
Her laugh becomes louder and longer in length, her teeth showing from the way her lips are pulled tight. “Just for the record, what did he tell you?”
“To take you to dinner, for one.”
Her fingers go to her hair and she starts twirling them around in the mess. Her focus veers off and hits the comforter instead of me. “Personally, I’m not really fond of dinner dates. They’re awkward. You either don’t shut up because you’re scared of running out of things to talk about or you sit there like a bunch of fucking weirdos in silence. I’m more of a eat cold Chinese takeout straight from the box in my panties and tee shirt kind of girl.”
I stare at her, envisioning that view for a moment. A lump suddenly forms in my throat. “I like Chinese food.”
She looks up. “I’m not a cook.”
“Food is for survival. The less ingredients the better. Those that find it fun seem weird.”
Her nose ring reflects the light when she turns to look at me again, her smile back. “I’ll refrain from mentioning that to Lux, but to be honest, I kind of agree. I only listen to rock or metal and very seldom anything else.”
“Same.”
“Any likes in the form of media entertainment I have usually consists of tattoos in some form or action. Gotta love a good action movie once in a while. I throw in horror from time to time. Comedy if it’s good enough, but usually humor is subjective, so a lot of the time I find it falls short. Fuck romance, though. That shit isn’t real. I don’t know how all that sweet and mush is supposed to give you the feels. In the movies he’s opening doors and dropping you off on the front porch with an innocent kiss and then he calls not even twenty-four hours later telling you he had an amazing time and he hasn’t even gotten in your pants yet. Realistically, he’s an arrogant asshole that just shows up looking fine, demands for you to shut your own damn door and fucks you senseless on your vanity when you’re trying to work, not even bothering to take you on the date first. Yeah, screw the movies.”
I fight against the smirk building as I hear that night from her point of view. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
“I’m independent physically. I’m needy emotionally.”
“I’m independent and controlling physically. I’m distant emotionally. It’s all I know.”
“We can find balance. The rest will come naturally.”
“Okay.”
“I wouldn’t have been attracted to you had you not been like me. That whole opposites attract thing is bullshit. Who wants to be around someone they have nothing in common with?”
“Why I’m still single . . . or was, I guess. I was born a breed that doesn’t really exist. I don’t fit in with most people.” A laugh slips out.
“See, we agree.” Her smile hasn’t left. It’s contagious usually . . . when I’m not in a bad mood. I’ve probably smiled more since we met than I have in my entire life. “Why didn’t you just come talk to me?”
“It seems childish to be in this predicament.”
“I feel like that with you too.”
I stand upright and remove my shirt and jeans, before lifting the blanket and getting in bed beside her, not touching at first to prepare myself. She doesn’t make any effort to move closer from the middle. Instead, she turns on her side to face me, placing her bottom arm under the pillow. “You look good like this.”
“My hair is on top of my head and I have no makeup on. I look like death.”
“No. I like you better without all that shit caked on your eyes.”
“That’s a first . . .”
“You like Inked magazine?”
“Yeah. It’s my guilty pleasure. I’ve been subscribed to it forever. I need to make sure they have this address.”
“Cancel it.”
“I don’t want to.”
I smile to the mildest degree. “I’m already subscribed. There is no reason for us both to pay for it. We can share.”
My hand moves to her barely covered hip and I pull myself a little closer than before. She doesn’t move. “Okay. Have you read this issue yet? Ashley Nicole Shelton makes a badass Harley Quinn.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“In bed.”
Again, she smiles. “Like me?”
“Yes. It relaxes me.” I stare at her, deciding . . . “I think I want you to move in with me.”
“Isn’t that question a little late?”
“Your current living arrangements are no longer working. This isn’t really your style.”
“Wait. Are you asking?”
“Yes. I want you to move into my room.”
“Kross, I wasn’t trying to be pushy yesterday at the shop. I can stay here and just come occasionally if you want me to. I’m fine.”
“No. I think I want you to. I’ve been thinking about it since you mentioned that I haven’t asked you to sleep with me. That’s the point. I don’t think of things like that until you bring them up. Most nights I lay in bed wondering what you’re doing up here anyway.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.” I pause. “You don’t have a secret love for old lady shit like floral and paisley, right?”
The laugh comes, and then she grabs her black pillow from behind her head that’s decorated with a girly version of a skull on the front—mostly white with pink here and there like in the bow—pointing to it. “If my comforter would fit this big-ass bed it’d be on here too. Floral sucks, for the record. It should have been left in the eighties or whatever the hell era it came from. It’s like a venereal disease. Some asshole started it and the shit won’t go away. Paisley patterns remind me of microscopic bacteria. I don’t see the appeal to it.”
I pull her body against mine. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”
I roll on top of her, pushing her on her back. She’s staring up at me, breathing hard and gripping my triceps as her legs slowly spread. I gyrate my pelvis between her legs, pushing my erection hard against her center. Her head rolls back and she spreads wider. “I want you.”
Just where I want her. I go cold, intentionally this time, and get out of bed. As I make it to the door, she speaks, more of a yell really. “You asshole. Where are you going? I thought we were finally getting somewhere.”
I don’t turn around. “If you want dick you’ll have to wait ‘til we’re in our bed. For now, we’re going to watch a movie. That I can do.”
I walk out. Three steps down and I hear a thump against the floor. Following immediately behind is a loud clomping sound along the second floor. It sounds like the house is about to come down. I stop, and just as I’m about to turn around to see what all the commotion is, she jumps on my back and clings to my body like a spider monkey, her arm around my neck with the other gripped in my hair, pulling my head to the side.
I grab her legs locked around my waist, hands clamped onto her shins, already breathing hard and wanting to throw her off. The metal of her lip ring skims up my neck toward my ear, tracing along my strained vein. “Relax, baby,” she soothes. “You’re too hot to hurt, but if you’re going to toy with me, then I’m going to toy with you.”
I grab her arm and jerk her around to my front, before slamming her back against the wall. My hand grips onto her face, holding it positioned directly at me. “It’s not a good idea to do shit like that. My reflexes are deadly.” The words grit from my mouth through clenched teeth.
Her middle is against my stomach. She starts pulling her lip ring in and out of her mouth, the metal scraping against her top teeth. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”
I try to calm down. My hand falls from her face and the fear and anger melt away. That fucking mouth drives me nuts. “Not intentionally.”
She removes her shirt, tossing it on the staircase, remaining in nothing but panties. Then her thumb starts brushing over my bottom lip. Her demeanor is serious. Her entire body is beautiful. My fingertips dig into the back of her thighs as I stand here on this staircase, holding my balance and her. “Learn to differentiate when it’s me and when it’s someone else. Then you’ll never make a mistake.”
“How do you want me to do that?”
She rubs her hands down the sides of my neck, over my shoulders, and down my arms. “Learn my touch.”
She grabs my hair again, tilting my head as she places her neck against the bottom of my nose. “Memorize my scent.”
She pushes her bare chest against mine. “Learn the way I feel.”
She leans forward, her lips so close I can feel her breath against my face each time she speaks. “Never forget my kiss.”
Then she kisses me . . . in a way I never will.
