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August runs his tongue over his teeth and says, “I could do this for hours.”
Gosh, I hope so.
“So, give me something to know you with. I earned it.”
Damn, I don’t really want to follow up the best kiss of my life with thoughts of my mom. But then again, I promised. I don’t want him to think I’ll go back on my word, because then he’d maybe not want to negotiate with terrorists.
“Fine. So, as you know, I have type 1 diabetes. But back then, we didn’t know. I mean, an average parent would have seen the changes in me––wetting the bed, losing weight, etc.––but when you’re high as a kite all the time, you tend not to notice drastic changes in your kid. So naturally, I passed out at school one day, and when my dear mother couldn’t be reached, the police went over to the apartment. Found her with a needle in her arm, passed out. The rest is history. Would you like to know more?”
“Will it cost me?”
“Of course. I’m not easy. But for the right price, I can be. What else would you like to know? I can be an open book if you’d like. I could tell you what meds I’m on. My last STI panel. What about my siblings? I can tell you all about them.”
Now I’m scrambling to remember all the interesting parts of me when most of them are just kind of depressing.
But then again, maybe the sad shit will win me some pity points and a pity fuck.
When I say I have no standards, I mean it. I have zilch. I would so take a pity fuck from August. It would probably be the best sex I’ve ever had too.
August eyes me and then puts the car in drive. And the way he wraps his hand around the gearshift makes me unreasonably horny. It’s like that kiss opened up the floodgates, and now I am simultaneously experiencing every hormone in my body. Everything is sexual now. He could fart, and I’d still manage to make something out of it.
“Maybe later,” he mutters.
Thank the Lord Jesus Christ because that gives me hope. I’ve survived my entire twenty-four years on the tiniest bit of hope. I know how to stretch that shit.
I pull out my phone and quickly text Lex.
Me:Mayday! He kissed me. We kissed. Two times!
Lex:I’m sorry, but how is this a call for help?
Me:He kissed me for information. Held me hostage practically.
Lex:I doubt very much he needed to hold you hostage for that. I bet you draped yourself over him like a cat in heat. Confessed your undying love for Saint August.
Me:I’m rolling my eyes right now and panicking. Why are you never any help? You’re useless.
Lex:Fine. Here is my advice. Just stay calm. Run a lap or ten.
Me:I’m in a car. With him. He has nice lips. I keep staring at them. I want to eat them. Snack on them.
Lex: I’ll send up a prayer for you, Hannibal Lecter. Thoughts and prayers.
I click off my phone. Lex is useless, like I said. And unhelpful. Don’t know why I’m even friends with him. Oh, that’s right, we’re ride or die. He said that, not me. I could take him or leave him.
Now that kiss. I could take more of that.
A thousand more kisses.
I turn my head and roll my lips between my teeth.
Fuck.
How am I supposed to act normal now? I mean, normal for me. Because that did not feel like any ordinary kiss. How is August so composed after that? He just had his tongue in my mouth. I tasted him. He tasted me. I don’t know if he’s ever kissed a guy before. Why isn’t he freaking out?
“Do you kiss all your stepbrothers?” I ask.
He looks over at me with his brow furrowed, like I’ve just asked something crazy. You’d think he’d be used to me by now. “I’ve never had another stepbrother,” he says. “So, no.”
