Page 8 of Hash

“What the fuck?” he says again as a look mixed with disgust and humor takes over his face. “You serious?”

“Dead serious.” I laugh. “It’s disgusting, but I don’t think some of them know it’s there.”

Some bitches don’t know how to wipe, and it shows.

“You tell them though, right? Because that’s fucking nasty, babe. If I were going down on a girl and I licked literal shit, that’s a wrap for me. I’d probably throw the fuck up on it.” Hash pauses as he thinks about what he just said. “Unless it was yours, of course. You’ve got a pretty cunt.”

“God, you’re disgusting.” I laugh and roll my eyes.

“Nasty motherfuckers are the best in bed.”

My cheeks flush. Not from embarrassment but from the knowledge of knowing how nasty he is firsthand.

“You want to finish this outside? It’s finally not hot as Satan’s ball sack out.”

I nod as I grab my plate and drink and follow him out to my patio.

My house isn’t massive by any means. It’s a small two-bedroom, one-story house that’s outdated, but it’s mine. I haven’t really bothered with renovations on the interior yet except with the random things that have broken and needed to be replaced. My money immediately went into the backyard.

The first thing to go was the back deck. I had that rebuilt and painted charcoal black. It pops against the white siding. I then had to make sure I bought the most comfortable lounge chairs with a matching table.

My favorite thing to do is chill out here at night and watch the stars. It’s a different kind of peace, and until meeting Hash, it was the only thing that truly stopped everything that swirls around in my head.

Except now he’s the cause of it, and I never saw that coming. Regardless, he knows my backyard is my happy place.

We finish the rest of our food in silence. Neither of us wanting to break the silence, for different reasons I’m sure.

“Alright, baby doll.” Hash gives in as he sets his plate down on the patio table. “Something’s up in that pretty little head of yours. Tell me.”

I nibble on the last bit of crust, trying to buy a pathetic amount of time because I’m still not ready. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.

Stealing a glance at Hash, I see him looking at me expectantly.

Damn.

I hate that he can see right through me.

“Are you embarrassed of me?” I blurt out, cutting straight to the point. There’s no sense in tiptoeing around it and making me stress out even more.

“Come again?” Hash asks, his easygoing smile gone from his face.

“Are you embarrassed of me?” I repeat.

“I heard what you said. I want to know why the fuck you think you would embarrass me.”

Oh no.

He’s getting mad.

Maybe this wasn’t the way to approach this.

Hash has never been angry at me, and it has me squirming in my seat.

“I don’t know… It’s just that⁠—”

“Spit it out.”

“I’m trying,” I snap back, not liking his tone.