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Eoghan: As a lawyer, I’m disappointed in you, since you know a person can only be classified as a criminal if they’ve been convicted of a crime.
Me: I notice you left out that you never committed a crime.
Eoghan: Ever speed?
Me: What?
Eoghan: Ever make an illegal U-turn?
Me: You’re joking.
Eoghan: When I’m trying to get you to fuck me, I don’t joke.
I flash my eyes open and type in the Con column:
Arrogant.
Sad, that’s all I can come up with, but then my cheeks swell. The Pros outweigh the Cons.
Just as I’m about to send him a text asking to meet me in that same bar, my Sinners app dings.
Adrenaline kickstarts my heart, but I can’t open the app in my office.
I save my ridiculous Pro/Con list in my personal folder and collect my take-home work to leave for the day.
In my car, my fingers rap the steering wheel, debating if I’m going to look at who pinged my profile right here, right now in the car, like devouring french fries from the drive-thru window. Or have some self-respect and wait until I get home.
“Self-respect is overrated,” I murmur to myself and fire up the app.
Inbox: 1
Swallowing, I click it.
Johnny B. Goode
I roll my eyes, but giggle, getting the word play.
Arrogant. Like he knows how good he is in bed. Must be a common male trait.
And it’s not in short supply in this city.
No profile picture? Just a ruler. Is he a reincarnated Catholic School nun?
My chest puffs out feeling defeat.
I toss my phone on the passenger seat and head for the liquor store to buy a fresh bottle of red.
At home, digging into a bowl of blue box mac and cheese, I look at the app one more time.
Inbox: 1
“This is freaking ridiculous.” I open the profile again.
Staring at the photo of the ruler, I notice a faint shadow just above the tick marks.
“Holy shit,” I blurt into the emptiness of my condo. “Is that his cock?”
Moreso, I wonder if I indeed see the shadow of his cock extending to a tick mark.
