Page 88 of Thug

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because they need to know what happened. It’ll help them accept you without needing to go through the same vetting process on a smaller scale. You’ve already proven yourself. They don’t realize it. If they did, your presence won’t be questioned.”

“My presence?”

“I want this to be over with,” he said.

Now, I was really confused. “What to be over with?”

He gestured back and forth between us with his index finger. “This. Meeting at the bar. Wondering what the fuck’s going on. If you’re going to end up moving to Boston or falling in love with the Budweiser delivery guy. I want us to be a couple, or whatever the fuck people call it. I needed to get all of this out there before I decided, but now I know.” He nodded at me. “That’s what I want.”

I felt like I was on a rollercoaster. I went from mad enough to bite the head off a bat to happy enough to cry.

“You want to be a couple?” I asked. “Like, you and me, officially together?”

He crossed his arms. “Yeah.”

I wanted to hear it again. Just to be sure. “You’re sure?”

“Listen,” he said, unfolding his arms. “Before we met, I’d flip out three or four times a day. Now? Not even once. Being around you calms me down. That’s not the only reason I want to be with you, but it’s one of them.”

As much as I liked Price, agreeing to be in a relationship because I calmed his nerves wasn’t a good idea. I hoped there was more to it than that.

“Tell me a few more.” I said.

“Reasons?”

I nodded. “Please.”

He pushed his hands into his pockets. He paced nervously along an invisible ten-foot long path on the other side of the bar. After a few trips, he paused. “You’ve heard the saying the proof’s in the pudding?”

I had no idea what point he was trying to make. “I uhhm. Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

“Well,” he said. “The proof’s in the pudding.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate.”

“It was anyone’s guess if my cock would get hard when I was with someone before I met you. It had a mind of its own. Most of the time, it wasn’t interested in sex. When I look at you, just look at you, my cock gets stiff. You walk by. Bam! You say ‘hi’. Bam! You turn around and look at me like you do? That ‘what the fuck are you looking at’ look? Yeah. You guessed it. Bam! Stiff dick. Stiff dick. Stiff dick. When you were taking a bath the other day, I had to leave the room. It was fucking embarrassing. I like it that seeing you naked embarrasses me.”

It was a pretty good endorsement. “I like it, too. Anything else?”

He seemed relieved. He leaned against the edge of the bar. “I like watching you walk. Eat. Talk. Cook. I like it that you’ve got guts. That you’re tough. When you come in my house, when we’re together? I feel like the home fills with, fuck, I don’t know. Love or something. It just. It’s fucking hard to explain, but—”

“Just stop,” I said. “I’m convinced.” I walked around the edge of the bar and spread my arms wide. “I’m all yours. Do with me as you wish.”

He pulled me close and peered into my eyes. I melted into his arms. He kissed me so passionately that everything vanished except for the two of us. I floated in that state of euphoric bliss for some time, not knowing when—or if—I might return to a conscious state. I really didn’t care. If he could have kissed me like that forever, I would have gladly remained suspended in that state of being for a lifetime.

Eventually, our lips parted.

He’d completely rocked my world on its axis. I stumbled to keep my footing. My legs felt like marshmallows, but I somehow managed to stand.

“Holy. Shit.” I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. “That was a kiss.”

I gazed at the toes of his boots for a moment while I regained my composure. Once I had my wits about me, I looked up. “Let me see your hand.”

He gave me a funny look. “What?”