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There it was. Right next to my face. Mocking me.
A fucking hair. My life was over.
Otter grunted and rolled toward me, cracking open a blurry eye and sighing. “Bad dream?” he asked in a sleep-roughened voice. Normally, it was sexy when he sounded like that. Normally, it zinged straight to my dick.
But now? Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, now all I could do was stare in horror at the pillow, the single hair moving gently in the breeze from the ceiling fan, like it was waving good-bye, like it was saying so long.
“What is it?” he asked, coming more fully awake.
I raised a shaking hand and pointed at it.
His eyes followed my finger, and a look of confusion came over him until he became aware enough of what we were staring at. He reached over and picked it up, pinching it between his fingers, pulling it right in front of his face, his eyes thoughtful, the left side of his mouth struggling not to quirk. “Bear,” he said quietly, grinning. “It’s just a thread from your shirt.
You’re really not letting the Kid get to you, are you?”
I was, but I couldn’t tell him that. I schooled my face and reigned in my breathing. “Of course not,” I scoffed. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh-huh.”
“But….”
“But what?”
“Never mind,” I muttered, pulling the covers up and over my head, hiding so he couldn’t see the warm crawl of fire burning my face. He followed me down into the dark and cuddled up against me, scrunching up his body so he could spoon up against me. I tried to resist, but… well, you know. It’s Otter. I can’t resist him no matter how hard I try. I found myself giving in and moved to my side, facing him, our knees bumping, his morning breath on my face. If you knew what that smelled like, you’d know how much I really loved him to be able to face it head-on.
“The Kid’s a jerk,” I grumbled at him.
“Should’ve watched where you put his shirt, huh?” he said, reaching over to rub the back of his hand on my cheek. There was no admonition in h
is voice, just a gentle teasing, lightened by the grin that I knew so well.
Even there, in the dark, I could see the gold-green, now awake and starting to shine. I started having uncouth thoughts toward his person.
“Whatever,” I said, trying to shove it away.
But Otter knew better, and he leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine, the lightest touch. I loved it, gross breath and all. “Even then,”
he said before he kissed me again.
“What?” I breathed, noticing how hot it was getting buried in the blankets, how hot it was getting because his hands had found their way to my sides and were beginning to rub against my shirt, suddenly against my skin. I was finding it harder and harder to think as a digit slipped down the waistband and caressed my ass.
“Even if you’re bald,” he said seriously.
“Shut up,” I growled before he laughed and rolled on top of me, smothering any other retort I might have had. It was okay, though. I’d get him back later.
DID you know that you can change Wikipedia? That apparently it’s a
“living” encyclopedia, that people can update it whenever they want?
I sure as hell didn’t know that.
So imagine my surprise, then, when the Kid showed me on a Wikipedia page headlined “Bald” that researchers in the UK had discovered that eating meat was directly linked to losing your hair. Imagine my surprise, then, seeing those words slashed across the screen, that a Dr. Edmund Paddington-Kingsleyshire at the University of British Hair Studies had conducted an exhaustive six-year study into the matter. The Kid looked at me solemnly as I read the words, that vein on my forehead as big as a garden hose.
Now, look. Let’s be honest. You know me. You’ve heard the first part of my story. If you don’t and you’re one of those weird people that likes to start a story in the middle, I bid you welcome and good day (but I still think you’re weird). But for those that know me? You know, and I can say this with complete sincerity, that I’m not the smartest person in the world. I’ve often wondered if God decided to pass on giving me brains ’cause he knew he had to save them all for my maniacal little brother. I can admit it freely. I can be a little dumb sometimes, (okay, okay: a lot of the time. Whatever).
So of course I believed in Dr. Edmund Paddington-Kingsleyshire and his obviously tenured relationship with the impressive sounding University of British Hair Studies. Of course I believed it, because it was on Wikipedia. It looked so official! How was I to know that Wikipedia was full of lies? Why would you let people write whatever they want for an encyclopedia?
It wasn’t till Otter found me minutes later hiding in the pantry in our new kitchen (it seemed to be the only place to escape Wikipedia) under the guise of reading the ingredients to a can of peaches (had to look like I had a reason to be in there), that I realized that maybe the Internet could be a liar.
