"One time is just fine."
"Why would you even—"
"Bored," he says. "So bored."
"There's a million things we could do besides, besides each other."
"Really? Name three."
“Here.” I offer him my book. "Play Break Things with The Thing."
"It's boring too."
I bet I know why. "You haven't beaten your high score yet, have you?"
…
Marlow grabs a coaster from the table and starts launching it in my direction.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to breakyou."
Should I be offended? Should I play too and chuck my book at him? Or should I laugh because he's having trouble hitting me, even though we're right next to each other? Granted, the angle isn't the best since he's still lying on the floor and blindly grabbing for stuff on the coffee table.
“Stop it!”
“Hold still.”
My reflexes kick in, and I act quickly, grabbing the pot he hurls before it collides with my lower body and smashes into a million pieces.
“Hey, you’re cheating!”
“You’re throwing things at me,” I respond. “What did you think would happen?”
"Don't worry, I'm aiming for your foot. I don't want to damage you too badly, just some light maiming."
Now it's my turn to peer over the couch and smirk down at him. "I'm not worried."
"You know what? Now sex is off the table,” he declares.
"It wasalwaysoff the table."
Not even once did I consider sleeping with him. Of course, it helps that he’s wearing a middle-aged woman's clothes to disguise his scent and not those tight-fitting pants of his.
Hypothetically, if I did think about his offer for one insane second, what would happen? If I were to roll off the couch and land on top of him, would he be shocked? Would he just grin like he expected it and grab my ass with both hands? Or could I haul him up and pull him on top of me and do my best to wipe that smug look off his face?
Dammit. I nearly step on Marlow in my haste to get up and select another book. This one is way too boring. That’s the only reason I’m fantasizing about disastrous scenarios.
11.Creative Differences Between Partners in Crime
Wynn
I drag Marlow to the stream nearby early in the morning, jugs in hand, to collect water. I'm determined to pry information from Marlow, whose reticence has become as thick as the forest itself.
"What's the plan?" I ask.
"Hide here," he replies. A very simple plan filled with a million holes. I wait, but he doesn't elaborate further.
