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I couldn’t be cool. “Hawkeye!” I squealed. He didn’t even flinch, just reached up and grabbed me by the head with his massive hand and dragged my face into his armpit. Gross.
“Shut up or I’ll puke in your hair,” he mumbled.
“You have to look in a mirror.” I was vibrating. “This is the best day of my life.”
I scrambled out of the blankets to find a mirror. Fuck, it was cold. This isn’t a real house, so I yanked the bathroom mirror off the wall and ran back to show Will. I crouched and held it in front of me so I would have the best view of his reaction, but when he finished rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and looked my way, his expression changed.
“You’re perfect.”
My eyes softened at first, then narrowed to slits. I spun the mirror around. Behold!
A giant dick in the style of toon porn was being fed into my mouth, balls hanging low by my ear. Nooooooo! I burst out laughing.
“Hawkeye, you traitor!” I cried. “Oh my God, why did you make it so veiny!?” This was going to take hours to get off. I also had a black heart on my nose and whiskers.
“Whoa, wait a sec. I passed out before you!” His hands were up and facing me. Innocent, my ass. “You probably did that to yourself to hide that you fuckin’ bargain bin Banksied my face! My dick is holding a sad balloon!” He pointed at the balloon.
“That—‘’ is exactly something I would do. But I didn’t get to finish the thought because we both came to the same conclusion at the same time. “—Motherfucker!”
“Hasan Ahmad Malik! I’m going to kill you!” I screeched, skidding into the kitchenette, eyes wild. Hasan was nowhere to be found.
“He ran!” Will said. He was searching for his shoes.
Just then, the lock clicked on the door, and Hasan walked into the studio, balancing a tray of coffees and a brown paper bag under his arm. His headphones were in, and he set the bag down before he noticed us standing there and looked up. I dropped to the ground, covering my face. I could not handle this. I was dead.
The mightiest cock of them all rose like a redwood out of the collar of his shirt onto his cheek, and it was shooting a classic dotted line of cum across his forehead and into his eye, where clearly a puddle had formed.
Whoever was responsible for this was a fucking legend.
“You literally had Sharpie smudges on your fingertips, Will. Plus, your dick looked the most like art.”
“It was exquisite…” Will said. He finished chewing, and I watched his throat move when he swallowed. “But the second shooter on the grassy knoll was truly inspired.”
A closer look at Hasan’s face had revealed yet another dick aiming at his eye, which eliminated all hope he might’ve had that only half the people he passed this morning were laughing at him.
My cheek and nose were still red from rubbing, and my ribs ached from laughing so hard.
We were eating cold breakfast burritos for lunch, a reward for having spent nearly two hours scrubbing the marker off our skin. After way too much time trying to use hand soap, Will paid his sister, Ciara, twenty bucks to bring coconut oil from home. As soon as she saw his face, she held it hostage until he also let her take a selfie with him. Yes, girl.
She was adorable in that way all teenage girls are—impossible not to love because you know they’re going through it. She looked like a female version of Will, but with a round face and a streak of neon green in her hair. I guessed she was seventeen.
“If you show it to Mom, you have to promise to do Dad’s commentary at the same time,” Will said, smirking at her.
“Maevy, me jewel, what ‘ave we done? Raised a right eejit, we ‘ave.” Ciara said, grinning widely and imitating her father’s brogue.
“Jaysus. Well, we can’t take ‘im to church like that, now can we?” Will riffed. He casually hugged her head, and I heard her mumble, “You sound just like him” into his shoulder as he kissed her hair. My teeth ached.
Will crumpled up his foil and napkins and threw the ball at Hasan’s face across the table.
Hasan’s eyes flicked to mine, briefly. He’d cornered me in the bathroom earlier when Ciara was here and asked if anything happened between Will and me.
I was proud of myself for the exceptional control I exhibited last night. Protecting Will’s virtue, when in my head I was ripping through those slutty little buttons and showing him how good I was at tying knots.
“Of course, nothing happened. He’s with Nathalie,” I scoffed.
“Louisa,” Has sighed. “She was on a date last night for godssake—And that’s two for two that I’ve woken up next to you guys and found you sneaky snugglewhores in flagrante.”
I accidentally sucked my own spit down the wrong pipe. She was on a date? I was enraged on Will’s behalf. Uncharacteristically thrilled. Chagrined over the events of the past two weeks. I need to earn his trust back.