Page 14
The whole way there, Lyr is digging her nails into me. Oddly enough, it feels good, but I keep those feelings to myself. When we reach the lake, I crouch down and gently release her thighs. She hurriedly climbs off of me and I roll my eyes.
“This is cliché, right?” She says.
“Isn’t this a typical first date from an online dating profile?”
I contemplate before answering, surprised at her question.
“Totally.” I laugh.
“Just pretend we’re creating a '90s montage instead of being mediocre and unoriginal.”
She joins in the laughter, covering her smile with her hand.
Pushing her hand down, I say, “Uh-uh. No hiding from me.”
She smiles shyly, tucking a multi-colored strand of hair behind her small ear. Before she crouches down, I watch her shift uncomfortably, her thighs pinching together.
She lowers herself to the sand and plops down. Not bothering to unlace her low-top Chucks; she just pops them off and stuffs her socks inside. I follow Lyr’s lead, and we saunter down the part of the lake where the waves kiss the sand.
I want to make the most of this date, but my X-rated thoughts include sinking my teeth into Lyr’s meaty flesh, producing memory-like bursts of her mouth, hands, and clenched thighs, fogging my mind. I’m itching to take her; to claim her. One day she’ll be mine, but at this moment, I redirect my focus back to what I want to know.
“How long have you been living with Dee?” I interrogate.
“Not long, about five weeks. Why?” Her wary eyes settle on mine.
“No reason. I’m just trying to get to know you better.”
Not being cute about this, she looks sneaky and uneasy, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s hiding from me. I can see the turmoil she’s experiencing as she debates telling me.
“I just got out of a three year relationship with someone. He was abusive, and when I made a break for it, I had nowhere to go. Bumping into Dee at one of the gas stations in town could not have come at a better time in my life. She invited me to move in with her, and I thought I’d be foolish to not take her up on her offer. She’s been super helpful during the healing process.”
I can hear how grateful she is for her in her tone. There’s a warmth and fragility to it that only someone who’s been through hard times can convey.
She continues, “What about you? You’ve told me nothing about yourself. Where do you live?”
I answer quickly because this is where it all goes to hell. “On the outskirts of town.”
“Work?” she counters.
I raise a brow, “Construction.”
“Should’ve known from the boots.”
I smile, and it triggers one from her.
“Kids?”
“No, I hate them.” My voice drops two octaves, and I growl.
“Jesus, why?” She furrows her brows, looking at me in horror.
“Crotch goblins with supersonic speed, ultrasonic hearing, and the innate ability to hit a house like a tornado? Why the fuck would I wanna be around one of those? Plus, they cry and shit…” I hold up my hand as I list on my fingers all the reasons I don’t want an oompa loompa brat of my own, “…and snot and vomit and… ugh. Just no.”
Lyric’s face goes through all five stages of grief within seconds, and I know I’ve made a mistake. Arching her brow, she parrots, “Crotch goblin?”
We lock eyes in a soulless gaze, and I give her my gravest: “Did I stutter? I said what I said.”
Her mouth falls open, and the disbelief on her face is loud. I’ve never liked children. Honestly, it has nothing to do with how gross and chaotic they are and more to do with the fact that nobody wanted me. If someone can so easily neglect, abuse, and abandon their own child without a second thought, who’s saying I won’t do the same?
