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“We’re giving Meggy sanctuary, until Kellan comes to pick her up.”
He squints his eyes while he looks at me, trying to figure out what’s going on. All our Spidey-senses have been tightly wound after all the events of the last couple of months, so it’s not that weird that he’s noticing something is off.
“Kellan and Jonah’s mom came over. She’s been searching Kellan out non-stop. Made some remarks about knowing people who are keeping an eye on both of us. She didn’t sound like she was backing up. That…. is one scary lady,” I summarize.
“She’s like some sort of Cruella the Ville, only without the dark patch of hair because I think hair dye is expensive in prison,” Meggy says with a look of horror on her face. It makes me chuckle, because it’s too accurate.
Gil looks worried though. “Why don’t you girls head inside while I finish this up?”
I cock my head, looking at Gil’s wet forearms. The thick vein that lays on top of them is giving me ideas. “Can’t we stay outside and watch?”
He smirks. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s weird if you give me sex eyes while your friend is right there. It reminds me of Miss Frieda and Miss Patterson and before you know it you’ll have changed into those two old ladies.”
Meggy chuckles. “Yeah, but you’ve got to admit. Good looking man doing chores without being asked to do them? That’s like regular porn, man.”
“Kellan doesn’t wash your windows?” Gil asks.
“I live in an apartment on the fourth floor. I don’t think those windows have ever been washed.”
“Shame, apparently it’s an instant panty melter.” He climbs back on the steps again. “Speaking of porn, I got you a new book. It’s like Harry Potter only written for adults. Go read.”
“Reading is not really a group activity,” I argue.
“No, but I got you the paperbacks, they’re on the table. Give Meggy your e-reader and let her start in one of the other series you’ve been binging.”
I’m jumping up and down at the thought of Gil getting me books. It’s like one step away from getting me a ring.
“I’m not that much of a reader,” Meggy says.
As I lay my hand on her arm to take her inside with me, I lean in and whisper, “Trust me, this is just like porn on paper.”
Her eyes lit up, I waggle my eyebrows at her and we giggle our way inside. Look at me, pushing the smutty romance novel lifestyle onto my friends. Does that make me an awesome influence or a crappy one? I’d say awesome.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I say as I jump up and down a little. We’re standing on my parent’s fresh lawn, and we’re going for a -wait for it- run. Somehow Jonah convinced me to give it a try, and the way I’ve been eating everything that’s being laid out in front of me, it might be wise. That, and general health and shit like that. I don’t think having marathons in the bedroom counts as a workout, even if they feel like it.
“I don’t think you are,” Jonah says.
“You’re going easy on me, right?”
“Of course I’m going easy on you. I’m always the one who goes easy on you.” He nods his head to the road, and we start running at a very easy pace. This actually seems manageable. It’s still a workout, so I’ll still hate it until the day I die because I pinkie promised myself to always hate it, but I think I can do this.
“You mean like in the bedroom, you’re always the one to go easy on me?” I don’t know where this is coming from, because having serious conversations about sex while not having sex is uncharted teritory. Okay, so we’re going at a snail’s pace, haven’t run for even a minute and talking while running is becoming harder already. How do they do this in movies and stuff, where they talk through entire therapy sessions while running?
“Kind of,” Jonah answers. “Slow down, we’re walking for a minute now. You can’t just start running for longer periods of time, you’ll injure yourself.”
“Maybe that’s my plan. Go with you once, injure myself, and then never having to go again,” I answer as I already have to catch my breath after one measly minute of torture, oh, eh, running.
“Yeah, I’m not letting you. I’m the kind one, remember.”
Something about the way he says it doesn’t sit right with me. It’s like he’s trying to tell me something I can’t quite understand right now.
“You don’t always have to be the kind one if you don’t want to, you know?” It’s a long shot to see if that’s what he means. But it’s true nonetheless. If he wants to dominate me the way all the others do in various ways, I’m fine with that.
“That’s not it. I like making you feel good.” He starts running at the snail’s pace again, and I follow him. “I like taking my time with you. I like making love to you, not being rough on you. I like feeling cherized. I’m just not sure if that’s what you like.”
