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“I told you,” he said. “Isn’t it so much easier to go to our room instead of drive home?”
“At the moment? Not really.” I grunted and paused to hitch him higher. “You are suspiciously heavy for such a short guy.”
“Fuck you, I’m perfectly average. Except my dick. That’s above average.”
I snorted, and he yanked on my hair.
“Ow!” I elbowed him, and he staggered into the wall, laughing.
“God, Novak, if we’re going to wrestle, I’d rather it be naked.”
“I could take you and what is certainly your below-average dick.”
“First of all,” he started, holding up his finger like he was in front of a jury, “it’s not very kind to dick-size-shame. Everyone knows the average vagina can only take three or four inches anyway.”
I dug my hand into his pants pocket for the key card to our room, grateful that he’d brought our bags up earlier. I wouldn’t have been able to handle them and him. “I don’t need you mansplaining my own anatomy to me.”
He went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Second of all, I’m not talking shit. I’m being real. My dick is above average.”
I propped him up against the wall as I opened the door, and he all but tumbled inside then immediately started unbuckling his belt.
“Oh my god, Hargrove! I don’t need proof. I believe you.”
From where he sat on the edge of the bed closest to the door, he gazed up at me with pink eyes and red cheeks. “I need to take a shower.”
He bent over and untied the skinny laces of his dress shoes and threw each one to the corner of the room while I carried my bag to the other bed. I wasn’t going to undress while he was right there, so I kept myself busy, drinking some water and downing Advil. I’d had a few drinks but was nowhere near as drunk as he was. I was downright sober comparatively.
With a groan, he flopped back on the bed, one sock on, his vest off, and belt unbuckled. “I feel like I’m going to puke.”
“You need to drink water.” I brought him one of the bottles, along with some crackers I’d packed. “Here.”
He opened one eye to me, and when I held them out, he struggled up to a sitting position. Like a toddler trying to solve a puzzle, he couldn’t even manage to open the crackers, so I sank down to the bed next to him with a sigh and opened them for him.
“Look at you,” he crowed. “Tearin’ through plastic wrap like the best of ’em.”
“It’s the top skill listed on my résumé.”
“As it should be.” He stuffed a cracker into his mouth. “You have fun?”
“I did, yeah.”
“I’m glad.”
I sipped my water as he polished off the crackers in contented silence, and after he finished the entire bottle of water, he swiped his hand over his face. “Thank you for coming with me. I wasn’t lying when I said you are the only person I’d bring.”
“Because it’s impossible to form an attachment to the devil, right?”
He tossed the empty bottle to the night table, and it landed on its side. “You’d be surprised.”
“Yeah?”
He turned to me, his eyes significantly clearer than fifteen minutes ago. “I hate that I like you.”
I didn’t know how to respond, but he didn’t seem to care. He scrubbed his hands over his face once again before standing up to remove his clothes. I twisted away, tucking my shoes into my bag and removing my earrings and hair clip. After the trill of a zipper sounded, Dean padded in the opposite direction of me, and I checked over my shoulder to make sure the bathroom door closed.
I dropped down to the bed, using a wipe to remove my makeup, listening to the shower run, and my mind absently wandered into the garden of dicks and Dean’s supposed above-average one. I truly didn’t care about the size of my sexual partners—as long as they could get me to orgasm, I didn’t care how they did it. But now I was curious about Dean’s. About the length and girth and if it hung to the left, and when the door opened again a few minutes later, I reflexively lifted my attention to it.
Dean slumped out, a small towel in his hands as he wiped it over his hair. He wore only black boxer briefs, and I absolutely tried to see what was beneath them, but with the low light and his walking around his bed, I couldn’t tell. Though the rest of him was up for consumption. He was tanned and trim, but not overly muscular, with a bit of sandy hair on his chest.
