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ChapterThirty-One
Holy oxytocin.
He tastes faintly like chocolate truffles, but the mouthgasm I’m experiencing puts any sweets-related ones to shame.
This isn’t real. It’s surreal.
Our tongues dance the most intricate ballet ever staged, and I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Like his lips are sending shivers through my soul.
Someone clears his throat.
Art doesn’t seem to notice or care, but I reluctantly pull away. My face is hot and so are the more private parts of my body as I turn to face Festus, who’s trying really hard not to look disgusted.
With a sniff, he says, “We’re all set,” before adding under his breath, “Now go get a room.”
I touch my swollen lips. “Thanks?”
Should he who did all those anal tricks be throwing stones?
“Right,” Art says, his voice rough. “Thank you.”
I glance at him, and we leave fast, as if Festus were a bear chasing us. Fabio would call him a bull, though, I think.
My mind is spinning.
That wasn’t just a “let’s pretend to kiss” kiss. It felt shockingly real.
Was it like that for Art? I want to ask, but what I end up blurting instead is, “I’m starving.”
He looks like he wants to say something—maybe “I’m ravenous too”—but then he presses his lips together and nods toward a Mexican food truck parked across the street. “Want to grab a bite there?”
So we’re not talking about it. Fine.
We get the food to go and catch a cab.
The ride happens in silence, and my churro tacos are tasteless as I wolf them down.
Art doesn’t seem to enjoy his shrimp tacos either.
* * *
When we enter the apartment, all seems quiet in the living room. The TV isn’t on, Mom and Dad are nowhere in sight, and even Fluffer is napping.
My parents must be eating a late-for-them dinner.
Art leads the way into the kitchen, then stops dead in his tracks at the entrance and stares in confusion at something inside.
I catch up and follow his gaze.
Oh, skunk.
Mom is sprawled naked on the kitchen table. She’s covered in sushi, maki rolls, and sashimi.
Time seems to slow as my adrenaline spikes.
In what seems like an eyeblink, I notice unwelcome details, like the fact that Mom’s right nipple is covered by tuna sashimi and her left by salmon sashimi, with soy sauce inside her belly button.
I shudder to think where they’ve put the wasabi.
