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I’mgoingtoHell.
That was always a distinct possibility, of course, given my lifestyle, but now it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion.
No amount of warning seems to deter her from pushing the limit, and while I’m pretty sure letting her have her way will ultimately prove disastrous, it seems I’m going to give it to her despite the consequences. I don’t know if I’m trying not to quash this new assertive streak, or if I’m secretly curious about where this will go. Either way, I can’t seem to stop from doing what I know we shouldn’t.
Go out with a bang, go up in flames…take your pick. The result will be the same. I. Am. Going. To. Hell.
“Flip,” Tiff instructs as she lays her card on the table. A seven of spades. I turn over a four of diamonds. She scrolls through her phone, looking for the truth, or dare, corresponding to the high card. “Ooh, truth. What level of PDA are you comfortable with?”
“I don’t have a limit.”
She wrinkles her cute little nose. “What does that mean?”
The answer will probably offend her, or hurt her, but then maybe she’ll get why I’m a bad idea. “I’ve been sucked off in public before.”
Her jaw drops damn near to the floor. “Did you… Where… How does that even happen?”
“It was a bachelorette party. The ladies were playing a game to see which of them could get their contestant to finish first.” I give her a pointed look, leaving no doubt whatfinishmeans.
“I think the question was referring to kissing and hand-holding and stuff.” Her face is damn near as red as a tomato.
“Oh. Well, in that case, I still have no limit. Again.” I shoot her a daring smile as I flip over a card.
My Jack of hearts beats her eight of clubs. I read from the instructions, “Describe our relationship in three words.”
She taps her lip with her finger. “Friends with benefits.”
I look up at the ceiling, begging for patience. “You know that’s not accurate.”
“It’s not inaccurate.” She smiles sweetly.Fuck that’s cute.
“Draw again.”
My Ace of hearts beats her King of clubs. “Recite your favorite poem backward.” I read.
“Blue are violets, red are roses.” She grins proudly.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not the whole poem.”
“That’s all I’ve got.” She holds her hands out to her sides, palms up, as if to saydeal with it.
We draw again. This time she gets a two of spades, and I turn over a Jack of diamonds. “Do you think our relationship is as healthy as it can be right now?” She reads from the list.
“What relationship?” I snort.
Her eyes narrow in my direction. “Answer the question.”
“No.”
“No, you won’t answer, or no it’s not healthy?”
“The second one.” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Elaborate, please.”
“I answered the question.”
“Barely,” she mutters.
