“Well, hello Colleen,” Lindsay says as I breeze through their front door and sit down at the table.
“Heya guys,” I say, looking at the dinner spread set out before them: baked chicken, asparagus, and a side salad. It looks pretty good. I grab Adam’s fork from him and cut myself a piece of chicken.
“Help yourself,” Adam says sarcastically, giving me a look. I smile and take another bite.
“I will, thank you, computer boy,” I smile. His face blanches. He knows I know. Good. Now it’s time to make him squirm. “So, anyway,” I clear my throat, smiling. “You guys still got that Viagra, right?” Lindsay and Adam share a nervous glance. I just continue to smile at them, knowing they’ll give me what I’ve asked for.
CHAPTER TWENTY
(Brad)
The girl turns my brain to sludge.
COLLEEN IS SO hot and cold all of the time that it makes my head spin. But I'm not complaining because she's been giving Mac all kinds of attention lately. I make her mad and then reap the rewards of it. It's screwed up, but it's also so typical of how we've always been. Part of it is that we don’t communicators, but I think that most of it is that she enjoys being a pain in the ass. Not that I'm an angel, but I like to think I'm the more reasonable of the two.
That Monday, after the porntop incident as Colleen is referring to it, I was nervous as hell. I should have just told her outright what I'd had Adam do before she left the house; but she was all nice and sharing her coffee and I was naked. Plus, Mac thought she looked good in that power suit. I know it was a dumb, messed up idea. I’m an idiot. I have no defense except to say that the girl turns my brain to sludge. Horny sludge.
I don’t even want to get started on the Vicky situation. I told her I called it off but once Colleen started acting up she didn’t care. I guess she’s being a good friend by looking out for me because she thinks Colleen is a spoiled princess because she strings me along. I’ve tried to tell her time and time again how untrue that is, but she won’t listen. She just doesn’t get us. Most people don’t.
Now it’s Friday and I’ve spent all week with a serious case of paranoia. You know that saying “sleep with one eye open”? Yeah. I’ve mastered that shit. Every tiny movement in the bed at night and I’m on high alert. Wednesday night after I reached for my gun after Colleen got up to pee, she demanded that I put it across the room at night. Then she proceeded to tell me that if she was intent on killing me that I wouldn’t be able to get to the gun in time. Then she told me not to worry. Not to worry? The hell? And then she tried to cuddle me. So now I don’t even have my gun to keep me safe at night.
I know something’s coming. Colleen doesn’t know how to let anything go and this was a big thing. I haven’t slept well in days, delirium is getting to me and I swear to God that my shampoo smells funny when I use it. I took a shower last night and asked Colleen if my hair looked darker when I got out. She leaned up, kissed my cheek and told me I looked just as handsome as I ever did. So now I’m convinced there’s something in my hair. When Colleen is that kind to me, something’s very, very wrong.
I’m in the kitchen, drinking my coffee and waiting for the devil herself to come downstairs. I check my watch. I have to leave if I want to get to work on time. I give her another minute to come downstairs and when she doesn’t I trudge upstairs to say goodbye. She may have me ready to piss myself with fear, but I still want to tell Satan’s leader goodbye before heading off to work.
When I get upstairs she’s still sound asleep. I creep toward the bed and kiss her cheek. She jumps suddenly a huge smile on her face and shouts “good morning.” I jump backwards nearly falling on my ass. My heart is about to jump out of my chest and I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve nearly peed myself.
“You’re so jumpy this morning,” she smiles innocently.
“You’re evil,” I mutter, my hand over my heart.
“What, you don’t like surprises? I mean, it could have been worse. You could have been at work when it happened.” Her nose wrinkles at the thought. I narrow my eyes at her. She crawls across the bed and stands on her knees. Placing her hands on my chest she lets them wander south below my belt buckle. When her hand finds Mac and she starts stroking him through the fabric, I’m at a loss.
“I have to go, pretty girl,” I hiss and let my head fall back. The last thing I want to do is leave but I really do have to show up. It doesn’t help that we haven’t had sex since Monday night. I have to sleep every night with that tight little butt pushed against Mac and pretend to be oblivious to her obvious attempts to rile me up.