I sound paranoid, but it seems all eyes are on us except for a few oblivious handful.
He shrugs like this sort of thing is an everyday occurrence for him. Maybe it is, but it’s not for me, and it’s starting to get under my skin.
“Looks that way,” he says
He pulls out his phone, starts typing. My first thought is that he’s texting the girl he came to town to meet. That paranoid voice in my head tells me he’s just using me to kill time before a date. A feel a spark of jealousy that troubles me. I don’t know this man. Why should I care what he uses me for? I’m glad to have him with me, if I’m being honest. At least this way I won’t have to be constantly looking over my shoulder for assholes who don’t keep their hands to themselves.
“Maybe it has something to do with this,” he says, showing me his phone. I look at the screen and his Twitter app is open.
He’s brought up the No-O hashtag, and my stomach instantly flips over when I see that people have tagged me and him in the same tweets.
I reach into my purse, grabbing my own phone and bring up my account. Right away I notice I have over five hundred new followers. I laugh. I can’t help it. This is insane. All this attention because I can’t seem to have an orgasm during sex. People seriously need to get a life.
I check the hashtag, and sure enough, the No-O is trending again. Only this time, the O-Maker is in the mix. There are photos of me and Heath walking hand in hand on the street.
I stop. This time when he tries to tug me forward, I resist. Letting go of his hand, I scroll through the different posts about us. I look up and see people’s phones are out. They’re taking pictures of us right now.
“People are saying the O-Maker is going to ‘save’ the No-O.” My voice starts to rise, along with my humiliation. I take a breath and try to calm myself. “They’re calling you my hero, and not because you saved me on the train. Apparently, I’m finally going to find my ‘O’ and you’re the Indiana Jones who’s going to excavate it.” I shake my head. “Are these people fucking serious?”
I keep scrolling down, reading the comments. I shouldn’t. I should just ignore it, let it go and wait for the next dumb thing to trend. You don’t stay trendy for long on Twitter. Every story has its expiration date. But I can’t help myself. I want to know what people are saying.
I notice a lot of the comments are the same. People say how gorgeous we are together. A power couple. If we ever have children they’ll grace the covers of magazines. Sex with the two of us will be explosive. There’s no way I won’t have an orgasm now. They ask when we’re moving in together, and one woman even says she heard we’re engaged.
I continue to laugh at the insanity of the whole thing. “These people have lost their minds.” Heath reads the comments over my shoulder. “They act like we’re a couple,” I say.
“I guess that’s kind of an easy conclusion for them to come to,” he says. “All those pictures show us holding hands, and I am going to fuck you. Which is what couples do, right? I guess that makes us a couple on some level.”
I just stand there, my mouth gaping open as I stare at him. “Is that an invitation?” he asks. “Because you’ll have to spread your mouth open much bigger than that if I’m going to fit inside it.” He wags his brow at me.
I clamp my teeth together hard enough for them to make a sound. He cringes and smiles. “Easy, there. No teeth.”
“You’re as insane as the rest of these people are,” I say and start to walk away. But I can’t help but think about my lips wrapped around a nice warm cock. It’s been awhile. I’ve always enjoyed sucking dick. I don’t even mind the taste of cum unlike a lot of girls.
“I never agreed to sleep with you,” I say.
He grabs me by the waist so suddenly I yelp, and he turns me around so that I face him. He pushes me up against a wall. I see flashes of light in my peripheral vision. People are definitely taking pictures of us, but at the moment I don’t really care. All I’m focusing on is the forceful blue of his eyes as he stares at me.
He puts his hands over my shoulders, blocking me from getting away. He leans in, getting very close to me, until I can feel his breath on my lips. “You might want to rethink that,” he whispers with a crooked grin. “I can make you feel things you’ve never felt before. It’ll blow your mind.”
I’m getting wet again. Wetter, I should say. I’ve been wet this entire time. Heart racing, I struggle to catch my breath. Feels like it will explode. My body begs for him to lean in closer, to press up against me. I need something hard between my legs, something to satisfy the hunger pulsing inside of me.
As if sensing that desperate need from me, he shoves his knee between my thighs, sending a jolt through me. I hadn’t realized I’ve been holding my breath until this point. When I finally let it out, a whimper comes out with it, which makes his wolfish smile grow wider.
“That face you’re making right now, it’s very close to the one you’ll make when I have you coming and screaming my name,” he says.
I’m at a loss for words. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Suddenly he steps away from me, his cocky smile gone. “Now,” he says as if he hadn’t just forced me against a wall and made me rethink this whole ‘never having sex with a stranger’ thing,’“let’s go shopping.”
I watch him, shaking my head in disbelief. He’s so incredibly infuriating and frustrating, and … I don’t know what! Yet I’m fairly certain I want to fuck his brains out. I’m so confused right now.
3
The mall is packed with shoppers. Christmas music plays over the loud speakers and a youth choir sings carols, gathering a crowd. Even though Christmas is my favorite time of year, from the smells to the sounds, and the general mood of everything, I don’t know how I’m supposed to shop after what happened outside with Heath. I can’t seem to focus on anything else. I even run into a guy walking passed me, bumping shoulders with him because I’m too busy focusing on Heath. I’m not sure how he managed to get this kind of grip on me so quickly. I need to focus on getting my boss a gift and forget about Heath.
I try to think about the task at hand. I steer us toward Macy’s and we make our way to the men’s clothing section. My boss is always wearing sweaters, but they are old and unraveling. Those strange Fargo-looking sweaters with the strings of moose appliques wrapping around the middle that look like they’re from the 1980s. It’s time to update his look.
I can feel Heath watching me as I sort through the racks.
“What are you shopping for?” I ask.
He glances away from me quickly and has the embarrassed look of someone who’s been caught staring. “Gifts for friends mostly,” he says.
“Isn’t the O-Maker gift enough?” I say, laying the sarcasm on thick.
He finally makes eye contact with me, and chuckles. “You must really think I’m full of myself, don’t you?”
“You are someone who calls himself the O-Maker. If you were me, what would you think?”
He shrugs, his smile never wavering. “I have a skillset that I’m pretty good at. Isn’t there something you’re good at that you’re proud of?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m a great baker, but you don’t see me calling myself Callista Cookie-Maker Walker.”
“Really? You’re a baker? I would love to try your cookie.”
I bite my bottom lip to keep from smiling. “I bet you would.”
“You might not believe it,” he says, “but there’s more to me than my online persona.”
“Yeah, like what?”
“I rescue dogs and run a charity that helps prevent animal cruelty.”
My eyes open wide. That, I wasn’t expecting. “Is Opie one of your rescues?” I ask.
“He is. Every dog I’ve ever had has been rescued.”
I nod. “That’s commendable. What else?”
“I also rescue sad, insecure women from a lifetime of mediocre sex,” he says with a wink.
I laugh and throw a sweater at hi
m. It goes wide and he catches it before it hits the mannequin behind him. His smile is breathtaking.
“You’re terrible,” I say.
“Not as terrible as your aim.”
I huff out a breath of laughter and go back to sweater hunting.
“I’m also kidding,” he says. “Well, not about your aim,” he adds. “But about the other stuff. While all the O-Maker stuff is true, it’s not who I am anymore.” The look on his face turns surprisingly serious. “I’m actually looking for something with more substance.”
I stare at him. He starts to fidget under my watch. “Wow,” I say, clapping my hands. “You’re good. I almost believed that.”
He takes a bow. “Why, thank you.”
Part of me actually believes him. It’s hard to fake sincerity like that.