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So, I got myself clean, pulled on my jeans without my now-wet boxer briefs, dragged on my tee, and strode out after I selected one of three girly deodorants she had on her vanity—who needed so many?—and aimed a double pump of the spray at my pits.
As I walked into the living room and spied her chewing one of the candies I’d given her earlier, I declared, “Now, I smell of fruit.”
I figured she’d be distant, the stirrings of dissociation coming to life, but as I’d intended, my statement disarmed her. “What changed?”
“Your deodorant.”
“You used my deodorant?”
I smirked at her. “It’s a spray. No cross-hygiene issues. Does it matter?”
“No. But it doesn’t smell of fruit. What the hell’s wrong with your nose?”
I wrinkled said appendage. “Nothing. It said ‘lychee’ on it.”
“It also says white blossom.” She hid a smile. “Come here.” Not about to argue, I obeyed for once, and she yanked my arm down then, surprising the fuck out of me, shoved her nose under my arm. “Oranges.”
“You’re doing it on purpose,” I accused. “I don’t smell of oranges.”
“I’m not saying you smell of shit,” she countered as I raised my forearm and smelled the skin. I could only scent soap.Hersoap, at that. “Maybe if you scratch it, it’ll be like a ‘scratch and sniff’ sticker.”
Huffing, I flung myself on a seat beside her. “What are you doing?”
“Edgar came with a tray of cinnamon rolls and a package.” She pointed to the tray that I hadn’t spotted and I leaned over to grab a bun. “We should have waited. I’d have tasted like cinnamon for real.”
“If we waited much longer, my dick would have exploded.”
“I thought it did,” she said smugly.
“We’re talking annihilation.” I made a motion with my hands. “Boom.”
“Melodramatic.”
I heaved a melancholic sigh. “You just don’t care.”
She snorted then snagged the bun from my hand and took a massive bite out of it. I groused under my breath, but I was quietly content with how at ease she was around me, especially after anticipating the opposite.
As I reached for another one and began eating, she stated, “The package Kuznetsov sent was a phone.”
“Interesting. Whose?”
“A Sparrow’s.”
“Fuck, these taste good,” I mumbled once I finished chewing.
She nodded her agreement as I reached for the cell she tossed at me and flicked it on. “And I do care, by the way. I have a definite interest in your controlled explosions now.”
I laughed and almost choked on a pecan nut that decorated the top of the sweet treat.
“Jesus, you’re worse than Katina. Walking disaster area much?” she complained, slapping me on the back with more force than was necessary.
“I think you gave me a hernia,” I clipped, voice hoarse from choking.
“You can’t give someone one of those.”
“You can. Don’t talk about controlled explosions if you don’t want a response.Or, talk about them as much as you want, just expect to be a part of the blast.”
A small smile kicked up the corners of her lips, but she didn’t reply, just motioned at the phone.
