Page 7 of Special Delivery

“Hi,” he says in that deep, husky tone.

“Hi,” I parrot back, praying to God that my nipples haven’t fought their way through this ancient high school t shirt.

“Got another delivery for you.” There’s a smirk on his lips, one that looks too good for me to put two and two together. When he hands me the package, my body flushes all over.

I was sure there was no way to feel more humiliated than I did the last time he rang my doorbell. Oh, how wrong I was.

Because yesterday can’t compare to the mortification I feel right now, holding a box that contains probably a foot long neon blue tentacle dildo. I wouldn’t even know it’s meant to be a dildo if there weren’t giant letters stating it. Giant letters right next to the label with my name and address on it.

“Th-these are not mine…” I start. “M-my sister, she ordered it for…” I don’t finish the sentence when a thud sounds out from behind me. A thud followed by a loud, resounding buzz.

My head snaps back, though there’s no need. I know exactly what happened. In another grotesque twist of fate, the toy that I’ve hidden behind the door fell smack down in the middle of my hallway, hitting the on button and started up.

Two things happen at once. I reach my doorknob and the poor man starts talking. “It’s okay, really. Happens to anyone.”

There’s no way I could look at him again after what just transpired so I forget my manners and close the door in his face. Turning the lock, I drop the package onto the floor and leave the other toy to buzz freely. I make my way to my fridge where I pull out a half-drunk bottle of wine. It’s barely after ten am, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

I’ll need to move. There’s no other way around this. I turn to my open-plan kitchen and living room, my heart squeezing in my chest. My gaze trails the antique kitchen cabinets I painted white and the tall green credenza I found at the side of the road and turned into a beauty. Plants fill every free inch of floor space, lining the way toward the living room which is exactly what I wanted in my home.

I don’t grab a glass but rather walk to my patio, slumping down onto my lounge sofa. I down a massive sip of wine, the acid burning down my throat. The open bottle probably sat in the fridge too long, but it’ll do the job.

Half a spoiled wine bottle later, my gaze lands on my laptop. If I need to say goodbye to this house I love so much, I can at least try and keep my job. One thing’s for sure, situations like this, while mortifying for the people experiencing them, can be pretty entertaining for others.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ryan

My fingers tighten around the racket as I wait for Wes to serve. Sweat trails down my back beneath the quick-drying fabric of my shirt. The ball launches and Parker volleys it back across the net in one smooth motion. Oliver, Parker’s brother-in-law, lunges forward, rebounding it off the back glass. I spin to recover it.

“Good cover,” Parker breathes.

Still, after an awkward rebound off the side wall, our opponents take the point. Game over.

I drop the racket to the ground, placing my palms on my knees. After a full hour of cardio, my chest heaves. I’m used to working out, but Parker doesn’t accept anything below a hundred percent of our effort. Still, the hour of padel every week is one of my favorite things to do.

“Good game, guys,” I tell Wes and Oliver, shaking their hands and patting Parker’s shoulder emphatically.

The four of us hit the showers, and I’m glad that the facility has private shower stalls. I spent my high school days sharing the showers with Wes and Parker, but I don’t care to find out if Parker grew out of towel snapping. With a towel wrapped around my hips, I exit the shower and open my locker. The three of them follow after me.

“Coffee?” Parker points a finger at Wes, and he nods. He then points it at me. “Coffee?” I dip my head, too. “Coffee?” he asks Oliver, but he shakes his head.

“No can do. I promised Joy I’ll be back right after padel.”

“Man, you’re whipped.”

Oliver shoots him a pointed look. “That’s your sister. You still flinch when she pretends to punch you.”

Parker shrugs and pulls a shirt over his head. I let out a chuckle and do the same. My hair is wet, so I slick it back, throw my shit in the gym bag, and zip it up.

“See you next week,” Oliver says before leaving, and we all hum in response.

Unlike the weathered, dark bar we typically spend our time in, the coffee place at the rec center has a sunny terrace overlooking the padel and tennis courts. It’s a nice place to space out when Parker’s stories get too much. The metal chair screeches as I pull it out, dropping my bag next to me.

A young server in sporty shorts and a white t-shirt approaches our table, and Parker’s face pulls into a blinding smile. “Hi, what can I get for you today?”

Parker pats a finger to his chin. “Erm, I’d like a rib-eye steak, medium rare, with a side of potatoes.” Wes rolls his eyes, while the server’s eyes widen to saucers. Parker quickly continues, “A joke, of course. We’ll have three cold brews, thank you.”

The server blinks three times before simply leaving our table.