It’s strange how not-strange this is. The three of us. Together again.
We’ve eased into the potion of the night where everything is warm, and mellow, and dangerously comfortable. I have an Otis Redding record going, wine is flowing, and Kenzi is here.
Life couldn’t be better.
Jason comes back with a second bottle, serves the both of us, but I make the decision to take this bottle a little slower.
Truthfully? I was a little nervous about her coming over. A small, nagging part of me worried that she wouldn’t like the ways I’ve changed.
A stupid concern. We’ve slotted back into old roles as though no time has passed at all.
Kenzi points her fork between me and Jason. “So how exactly did this happen? The two of you living together.”
“I rescued him,” I say. “Like a shelter animal.”
Jason chuckles lightly. “Yeah—I mean, sort of. So I got married.”
Kenzi gasps. “That’s right! Mazel Tov.”
“Well, don’t get too excited,” I add. “He also got divorced. Basically in the same day.”
Jason scratches the back of his neck briefly. “I mean—we lasted almost a year. That’s not nothing.”
“I’m sorry. How long ago?” Kenzi asks.
“Six months. So, uh—anyway. She kept the house. I didn’t feel like moving back in with my parents—”
I motion. “And he refused to ask for help. So, being the stubborn bastard that he is, he slept in the hospital for—what? A week?—before I dragged him home with me. It was too sad.”
Kenzi listens, rapt. She glances around. “Do you have a guest room?”
I nod toward an outline in the wall and point to the living room across from us. “I’ve got a built-in murphy bed. Those are his digs.”
“No shit?” Kenzi says. “I mean, I know it’s old-school, but I kind of dig it.”
“I am old-school,” I remind her.
Jason cracks a grin. “You were born to be a grandpa.”
“I guess we all grew up, huh?” Kenzi adds, a little wistfully.
“No,” Jason protests, his Peter-Pan syndrome suddenly in full effect. “No growing up. We’re going to play a game.”
Now Kenzi’s eyes light up. “What game?”
“Truth or dare,” Jason says. “Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
Round one goes to Kenzi. “Truth,” she says.
“Most embarrassing moment in recent history,” I prompt.
She doesn’t have to think long. Her pale complexion already starts to go pink with the memory, but she laughs good-naturedly. “Okay—this one is ridiculous. At the airport getting here, I got stopped by security because I had a vibrator in my backpack.”
“You just…keep it handy?” Jason asks.
She balks. “I had a legitimate reason!”
I lift a palm. “You don’t need a reason. It’s absolutely natural to have a sexual relationship with your body. Not to mention, it’s healthy. Orgasms release serotonin.”
Kenzi motions to me. “Donovan gets me.”
Jason shakes his head. “I didn’t say it was wrong. It’s just…funny.”
Kenzi scoffs. “Don’t sit there and act like you don’t jerk off.”
Jason shrugs casually. “I don’t.”
I roll my eyes. “Here we go…”
Kenzi’s mouth drops open. “What…? Like, you don’t often? Or you don’t ever?”
“Ever,” Jason says, and I do my best not to let it get to me that we’re having a conversation about masturbation as casually as we’d talk about the weather.
Kenzi squints at Jason as though he’s grown a second head. Kenzi, to her credit, never leaves a stone unturned, no matter how strange the topic. “Okay,” she says, clearly trying to understand. “Is it like…a self-control thing?”
Jason shifts to his elbow, leaning in. “Let me ask you a question first. Why do you masturbate?”
Kenzi’s throat reddens a little, but she’s too stubborn to let something like shame get in the way of her query. “It’s my only me time,” she says. “Look—I became a single mom really young. And I love every second of it. But my entire life is devoted to being a mom. It’s…the only thing I get to do that’s for me.”
“Self-care,” I clarify, and she nods.
“Yes, exactly.”
Jason swallows—I can tell because that Adam’s apple bobs underneath his beard. “Okay,” he says, “I get that. But like, for me, what turns me on is connecting with someone. Looking a person in the eye. Making them feel good. So when I’m flying solo…it just doesn’t really do it for me.”
Kenzi looks soft and hazy as she stares at Jason, and she rests her head in her palm. “Must be hard,” she wonders out loud, but I can’t tell if she intends for the pun or not.
A grin ghosts on Jason’s mouth. “I live,” he says.
“Can we get back to the game?” I ask.
“Truth,” Jason says.
“What’s the most annoying thing about living with Donovan?” Kenzi asks.
I roll my eyes. “Now you’re asking for a fight.”
Jason squints at me as though he’s thinking. “I don’t know. He’s a pretty good roommate. Well, except…”
“Lay it on me.”
“You vanish down these…video rabbit holes.” He turns to Kenzi, waving his fork dramatically like a conductor. “He’ll come home, sit on the couch, and scroll through YouTube or whatever for hours. It’s like a constant stream of mindlessness.”
I scoff. “It’s called decompressing. And you’re one to talk.”
“What’s that mean?”
I turn to Kenzi. “You want to talk annoying noises—he listens to recordings of himself.”
“Fuck you, it’s meditation.”
“Wow. Sounds like that meditation is really working for you.”
“Hold on, settle down.” Kenzi lifts her palms, lowering the temperature in the room. “Jason, explain.”
Jason thins his lips, but then he straightens up in his chair—going into performance mode. “Okay. So you know how you have negative thoughts in your head, right? Like…there’s always that voice that tells you that you’re doing something wrong or you’ll never amount to something. So I combat that by recording myself saying the opposite of those negative thoughts. It’s positive affirmations.”
I pretend to vomit, and Jason casts me a dirty look. Kenzi, unfortunately, looks fascinated.
“What does your recording say?” she asks.
He shrugs, for the first time, a little bashful. “You’re enough.”
We go a couple more rounds (I get dared to balance a spoon on my nose, and it takes nearly ten tries; Jason confesses to listening to—and enjoying—the latest Taylor Swift CD).
“Truth or dare?” Jason asks.
“Truth,” Kenzi replies.
“What happened with Otto’s father?”
Kenzi hesitates a second. She glances down at her plate, then says, “Uh…he was just this guy I met. In college. Didn’t want anything to do with it. So.”
“That’s rough,” Jason says, his voice full of compassion.
Kenzi “hmms” and tries on a smile.
As she speaks, however, I notice that she absently toys with her earring, rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger.
It’s her tell. The way I always knew whenever she was lying when we were kids. She’d play with her ears, an unconscious little gesture.
I decide not to call her out on it, however. Instead, I swallow back unspoken words with a sip of wine.
“My turn,” Kenzi says, quick to change the mood. “Truth or dare, Jason?”
“Truth.”
“Since you went for a hard-hitter, I’m going right back. Why did you divorce your wife?”
Jason presses his lips together. “You, uh…know those toys they make for kids…the ones that they make so kids learn their shapes?”
“Sure.”
“It was like we were trying to put the circle shape in the square hole, and no matter how much we kept trying, it just wouldn’t…fit.”
I lean over and stage-whisper in Kenzi’s ear, “He has a huge cock.”
Kenzi laughs, and Jason stabs his fork in my direction. “Hey. Perverts. I’m talking about something real here.”
“Okay.” Kenzi flattens her forearms on the table, going into full reporter mode. “Follow up question. Why did you marry her in the first place?”
“She was interested in what I had to say. She laughed at my stupid jokes. I thought that meant she loved me.”
Kenzi clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “Typical Jason King. Someone shows you the slightest bit of attention and you assume they’re madly in love with you.”
“I’ve only been wrong once.” There is that arrogant smirk.
“And look how much it’s humbled you.”
Kenzi is being a pain in his ass, and Jason is here for the challenge.
They’re practically eye-fucking each other across the table.
I stab a piece of broccoli. Jason’s eyes catch on mine.
“Truth or dare, D?” he asks.
“Dare,” I say, because our truths are getting thorny, and no way am I walking into that minefield.
“Okay. I dare you to eat the rest of dinner without using your fork.”
If he wants to embarrass me, he’s going to have to try harder. I’m not about to lick the plate like a dog. I set my fork down on the table. “I was done anyway.”
“Awww, Mr. Grumpy,” Kenzi coos. She picks a piece of broccoli off my plate between her fingers and holds it up to my face. “I’ll help. Open.”
I oblige. She pops the broccoli in my mouth.
Jason frowns. “You know…you can still use a fork, Kenzi.”
“Yeah, but this is more fun.” She has some sauce on her thumb, so she holds it to my lips. “Suck.”
I take her thumb in my mouth and swirl my tongue around the tip of it. This should not be as erotic as it is. But when she’s playful and coy like this, I would do anything for her.
Including lick every inch of her clean with my tongue.
She looks pleased with herself. Jason looks annoyed. And I’m trying to keep my cock from tenting in my pants.
“Dessert?” I ask.
