“Well, I told him to go fuck himself and use his salty, scratchy tears as lube.”
I see Yosh’s brain working, and I’m not quite sure what he’s making out of it. I know I crossed the line by visiting a bar of all places, but that doesn’t really seem to bother him. A soft hum, followed by the slightest sign of a grin.
“You did well.” he simply answers, leaving me confused as he does’nt even mention the whole bar thing.
I decide it’s best not to wake sleeping dogs, so I nod at the takeaway bag.
“Want me to grab you a plate? Dinner’s getting cold.”
His eyes go to the window before he nods.
“Would you mind? This doesn’t look like the usual ten-minute tropical shower.”
“Yeah, I figured when I saw the pool furniture fly by.”
A deep rumble of thunder rolls through the air, rattling the glasses on the kitchen shelf. The lights in my studio flicker once, then twice. We both glance up at the ceiling, waiting for a third. Nothing happens.
“Have you eaten? We can split.”
“No, I’m good. Go ahead,” I say. My stomach growls in protest. Softer than the storm outside, but no less humiliating.
Yosh chuckles as he starts unpacking the food.
“Don’t be a fool, McKenna. Grab an extra plate.”
“Thanks,” I mutter, pressing both hands to my stomach in a useless attempt to shut it up.
I take two glasses from the cupboard, filling them both with ice cubes and spring water.
Yosh divides the portions of what looks like a local beef stew, served with rice, salad, and baked plantain.
“Wow, this looks—”
A loud crack of thunder cuts me off, scaring the living hell out of me. Next thing I know, the lights flicker and the room goes dark.
“What the…”
“It’s nothing,” Yosh says. I can’t see him, but I hear his chair scrape against the floor.
“Happens all the time. There should be candles in the kitchen drawer. Let me check.”
I hear him moving toward me, and instinctively I try to step aside to give him space. But I can’t see shit and slam my knee into the table leg.
I curse and stumble back. Blind as fuck, I crash into Yosh and we go down. Me landing hard on top of him.
Yosh’s chest rises and falls beneath me. I can feel his warmth through my shirt, making me feel both comfortable and tense at the same time.
My heart pounds so hard I swear he can feel it against his ribs.
I should move. I know I should.
I brace my hands against the tiles, ready to push off, and then I feel it.
Him.
He’s growing hard beneath me.
No. This is not happening.
