Tell Me It's Real(96)

“Good.”

“I’m scared. For real.”

She sighed. “Don’t be. You’re going to rock his world. Just make sure to watch your teeth around his balls.”

I was scandalized and I let it show, but I had run out of excuses. “Will you let Wheels out for me tonight?” I asked in a quiet voice.

She leaned over and gave me a sticky kiss on my cheek. “Of course, baby doll. I’ll just take him home with me, how about that?”

“Okay.”

“Stop looking like you’re going to your death. Think about his penis in your man pussy and smile, for fuck’s sake.”

Before I could even think of a retort, the crowd parted and Vince walked through like he was some hot version of Moses.

“You ready?” he asked me with a grin.

I nodded.

“I was just telling Paul here that he needs to press against your taint right before you come,” Helena said. “It’ll make you jizz that much harder. So make sure you let him know right before you blow so he can push it real good.”

“And that’s our cue to leave,” I said, grabbing Vince by the hand and pulling him away.

“I’ll make sure he does it and let you know what happens,” he called back to her, which caused me to almost trip and fall flat on my face.

“Have fun getting dicked, Paul!” she shouted as loud as she could. Everyone around us stopped talking to each other and started clapping as I pushed my way through toward the rear exit. Wolf whistles followed us, and a few people reached down and swatted our asses as we walked by. I kept my head down, my eyes at the ground in front of me, refusing to look up as apparently Helena was the Queen Bitch of the world and felt the need to announce my business to everyone (though, a small, quiet part of me didn’t have a problem with reminding me that I’d literally just been almost fucking Vince up against the wall like I was a bitch in heat. I hated that small, quiet part).

We got outside and onto the street before I looked up again.

“You ready?” Vince asked. He pulled my hand up and kissed my knuckles.

Since running screaming in the opposite direction seemed off the table, I nodded.





WE DIDN’T say much on the way back to his apartment. I didn’t know what he was thinking, and I didn’t want to ruin anything by saying something stupid, so I kept my mouth shut. I tried to turn off my brain so I couldn’t even think, but that was easier said than done. So instead, I focused on his hand still holding onto mine and the warm desert air flowing through my hair from the rolled-down window.

His apartment was more of a condo, really, with big picture windows at the front that exposed the living room. I’d only been inside briefly, earlier today, when I’d followed him so he could put his new bike in a back bedroom before we left for the bar. It was sparsely set up, just a couch and a flat screen in the living room, boxes still piled up in a corner that he hadn’t gotten around to unpacking yet. I’d made fun of him for living that way until he reminded me that it was hard to bend over and unpack things after you’d been hit by a car. I’d looked for photos, but had seen none. His parents weren’t anywhere that I had seen.

I wondered about Vince then, how that would affect the evening’s calisthenics, if it was even still going that far. Then I remembered I still had a black eye and a reddened nose from my wall face-punch the day before and didn’t think that could be remotely attractive. Helena’s warning voice shot through my head and I pushed her away.

Vince let me in through the front door and closed it after we’d walked through. He leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. And watched. And waited.

I didn’t know what to do, so I tried to mirror his stance up against the opposite wall, but I almost fell down while trying to stand still for, like, two seconds. Vince didn’t say a thing. I patted my hands against my thighs. Vince quirked an eyebrow. I tried to name all fifty states in alphabetical order. Vince uncrossed his arms. Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas. Vince stood up straight. Delaware, Florida, Georgia. He brought his big hands to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up, revealing miles and miles of hard, brown skin. The silver bar through his nipple caught the low light and flashed at me. Illinois, Indiana. Iowa. He pulled the shirt up and over his head, dropping it to the floor. Uh. Kentucky? Washington. No. Wait. Uh. Nigeria? Vince ran his hands down his chest, pausing to tweak his own pierced nipple, twisting it lazily before tracing his fingers over his stomach and down to the button on his jeans. Portland… is a city. Okay. Uh. New Hampshire. New Jersey. New Mexico. Nipple. Nipple? Nipple is not a state. He flexed his arms as he hooked his thumbs into his jeans and leaned back against the door. I could still see the bruises on his sides, but they only added to his appeal, the pretty colors not yet faded into a mottled green. I wanted to map out the whole of them with my tongue.