Laughter sacks me, and I gather her in my arms, planting kisses on her mouth, her cheek, her neck.“Oh. My. God,”I mimic her. “I have a girlfriend.”
And just like that, she turns it into a meme.
“Oh. My. God.My boyfriend is naked.”
I crack up at her theatrical surprise. There’s no keeping up with Iris. No way I’m ever as funny as she is, but I have to try.
“Oh. My. God.My girlfriend is observant.”
“Oh—”She tries to keep going, but she’s laughing too hard, and it feels like a win.
Just being with her feels like a win.
AndOh. My. God.Iris Adams is my girlfriend.
* * *
With the helpof the flashlight and our phones, we make a dinner of tuna salad lettuce wraps—Iris’ suggestion—and marinated olives. Iris and I split one of the ninety-nine percent cocoa chocolate bars for dessert.
It’s not my favorite meal ever, but the company beats anything.
A little after eight, Mica scratches at the back door, but when Iris opens it to reveal the tempest, he shies.
“Buddy, if you hurry, it won’t be too bad,” Iris encourages. Mica doesn’t budge.
But I don’t blame the dog one bit. The night is black and wild. Lightning strobes the sky, revealing shapes that must be smaller trees whipping like maniacs. Even though the back door opens onto a small covered patio, the rain blows in slanted sheets, misting our faces.
“I think I’ll have to go with him,” Iris says, moving into the doorway.
I grab her by the wrist. “Let me.” I gesture toward her mane of hair that fell out of its messy bun while we tangled on her couch. “Your hair is finally dry from this morning.”
Before she can protest, I whip off my T-shirt and undo my fly.
“What are youdoing?!”
“I only have one more dry change of clothes. I’m not blowing through these yet.” I drop my shorts.
Iris’s face lights with amusement. That amusement turns to shock when I shuck my boxer briefs.
I grin at her. “Get me a towel, would ya? C’mon, Mica.” I grab the flashlight and step outside, rain hitting me even under the overhang. And fuck if it isn’t cold. “C’mon, dog.”
With stinging rain hitting my elbows, ass, and balls, my tone is less than patient, and the dog comes, tail tucked between his legs. I step to the edge of the patio, and Mica cowers at my calves.
“Fuck.” I shine my flashlight out into the yard proper and step into a grassy puddle. “Go do your business,” I bark, gesturing to the yard, and Mica scurries, braving the elements.
Even though the air temperature is at least eighty, now that I’m soaking wet, I start shivering. I wipe water out of my eyes and make out Mica lifting a leg on a bush. I sweep the yard with the beam of light. Leaf and twig debris is everywhere, and there are a few smaller branches here and there, but no trees down. A couple of Iris’s neighbors must have back-up generators because I spot small light sources at a few houses.
Another look at Mica shows me his squatting figure. Good. At least he should be all set until morning. Just when I think he should be wrapping it up, the dog lets out a yipe and tears for the house. Lightning splits the sky—blowing up the world in white—the next instant thunder explodes, rattling my every bone.
I’m under the patio. I don’t even remember moving, but my two feet are hauling my naked ass into the house.
“What the fuck?! What the fuck?! Are you okay?” Iris knocks the flashlight out of my hands, and it goes spinning across the floor, turning the kitchen into a dance club.
I slam the door behind me. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” But her hands are all over me, running down my arms and over my chest. Just not in the good way. She’s freaking out.
“Shit, that was close,” she chokes out. She reaches up and pats my head. “Your hair is sticking up.”
Yeah, it was close.
