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"What is wrong with you tonight?"Alex asked when we rounded the landing after leaving Andy and Patrick'sapartment.
"Nothing is wrong with me," I said, sliding my arm around her waist. "But that douche salad has a few misconceptions I'd like tocorrect."
"Who are you talking about?" she asked, throwing her handsup.
"Stremmel," I cried. "Obviously."
We reached the next landing and she shook her head. "You'reinsane."
"And you are really good at ignoring all the men who leer atyou."
"No one leers at me except you," shechided.
"Stremmel leers," I said hotly. The blast of cold winter air as we hit the sidewalk did nothing to cool me down. "He's a dirty oldleerer."
"Oh my god," she whispered, stomping ahead of me. "He's just trying to figure us allout."
I jogged to catch up to Alex. She was a short stack but she was quick on her feet. "He wants to figure out how to get you intobed."
"We have to agree to disagree on that point," she said. "No—wait. We're going to agree that it doesn't fucking matter because even if he's hitting on me, I'm not hitting back." She speared me with a fierce look. "I can resist manly charms, youknow."
We were silent for several long minutes while we walked back to her apartment. "I know all that," I said as we turned the corner onto Cambridge Street. "Doesn't mean I have to like it and it doesn't mean I shouldn't want to feed him histongue."
"Now that's some manly charm," shesnapped.
We trudged up the stairs to her apartment without another word. It felt wrong. This wasn't the way we rolled. We didn't take anything too seriously, and when it did get heavy, we redirected it into something easy. Song lyrics and movie quotes. Tacos and beer. Rough sex and dirty photos.Thatwas how werolled.
We didn't do jealousy and we weren't that couple who yelled at each other on the sidewalk, and I wanted to keep it thatway.
"Hey," I said as she slid her key into the lock. "Come here,Honeybee."
I pressed my lips to the sliver of skin visible between her scarf and hat, right behind her ear. My fingers fumbled with the front of her coat to find the zipper. It came down with a harsh whisper and her breath caught in her throat. As much as I wanted to, I didn't paw at her. I let my hands settle on her waist and heldtight.
"I have something for you," Isaid.
"It better not be your dick in a box," she said with alaugh.
"That invites paper cuts and other injuries which I'd rather not suffer," I replied. I pushed the door open and helped her out of her coat. She set her phone and pager on the kitchen counter. She wasn't on call but that guaranteed a whole lot of nothing. "My something, it's for you, in accordance with ouragreement."
"The agreement," she repeated, almost to herself. "Okay. Good. I have something for you, too." She pointed at me. "But you need to stay here for aminute."
She vanished into the bedroom, and the filthy part of my brain—that was, the majority of it—had visions of sugar tits dancing in my head. Those werehomemade.
Minutes ticked by without a naked Honeybee emerging, and I decided I needed to stop standing in the middle of the room like a twat. I kicked my shoes off, turned the lights down low, and dug my gift out from its hiding place in my messengerbag.
Then she emerged…fullyclothed.
"You go first," we said in unison, and thenlaughed.
"Ladies first," I said, the small package concealed behind myback.
"The lady wants you to go first," she said,smiling.
With a heavy sigh, I held out my gift. "Okay. I-I-I-I hope you don't hateit."
"I won't hate it," she said, studying thepackage.
It was wrapped in butcher paper and tied with twine, and I'd never doubted a piece of work so much in mylife.
