“It’s kind of hard to take you serious in that robe.”
He scoffs. “Please, I rock the hell out of this.”
“Your cock is trying to pop out.”
“Yeah, your uh…friend accidentally bumped it a few times.”
Stepping out of the shower, I wrap myself in a large towel. “Don’t worry, you don’t have enough foreskin for her.”
Leaving him with a perplexed look, I rush to my bedroom to get dressed. My hair gets pulled back into a quick braid, after I give it a sniff test. I can’t smell anything but my citrus shampoo, thank goodness. I’m going to owe Bobby Jo big time for this one.
When I finally emerge from the bedroom, Simon, Sicily, and Bobby Jo are sitting in the living room. “Are you okay?” Sicily asks, trying not to laugh.
“Yeah, but we’re moving that trash can. I couldn’t see the little bastard until it was too late.”
Simon approaches me and runs a finger over my forehead. “You have a mark. Does it hurt? We can put some ice on it.”
“It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine, really.” My stomach gives a long growl, reminding me I’ve only had a piece of cake today, and it made a reappearance.
Simon laughs and grabs his phone. “Chinese?”
“You’re staying?”
“Do you want me to go?”
Sicily and Bobby Jo are watching us like it’s a really interesting tennis match, their heads swiveling back and forth.
Do I want him to go? No. Should he? I don’t know. I wish I had some experience with this whole fu-frog buddy—oh, that doesn’t work. Bed. Bed buddy situation. Do bed buddies spend time together like this? Aren’t we supposed to just screw and leave? Or is this more of a friends with benefits thing? I’m overanalyzing this.
“No, I suppose any guy who scrubs skunk spray off of me and gets puked on should stay for dinner.”
I turn to Bobby Jo. “Thank you so much. I would probably still be out in the yard if you hadn’t come.”
“That’s what neighbors are for, honey.” She gets to her feet. “Now, I have my own tight-assed man coming over tonight, so you’ll have to excuse me.”
Warm breath on my ear wakes me, and I look up into bright green eyes. “Morning, beautiful,” Simon says.
“Morning. What time is it?”
“Half past seven.”
“Sh-sugar. I have to get going. I’ll be late.”
His lips explore my neck. “Mmm…late for school. We should get you one of those school uniforms so I can take it off of you.”
“Yeah? You going to give me detention?”
“A bad girl like you? No, you’ll get the paddle.” The lunch with Sicily and the girls the other day flashes through my mind, and I shake my head, giggling. “Get off of me, you sex fiend. I have to go to work.”
“Skip it. Call in sick,” he says, once I climb out of bed and rummage through my closet. “I’ll do the same.”
“Don’t you work with Roman? At the same company Sicily does?”
“Shit. I hadn’t thought of that,” he laughs, and starts dressing. “Come over tonight.”
My back stiffens. “Simon, I told you. We can’t be together all the time like this. I just—”
“Want sex. I remember, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
My heart aches as I tell him, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I don’t want to hurt you. This isn’t going to turn into more.”
Dropping a kiss on my head, he replies, “I can handle it. Call me when you want to get together.” The door closing behind him sounds like the period at the end of his hastily mumbled sentence.
Now I feel like a total bit-biscuit. Fuck, I hate this censoring shit! I’m not censoring in my head anymore. I keep forgetting anyway. I’m just not going to say them out loud.
Anyway, I feel like a bitch. I’m using him, and even though I’m trying to give him permission to use me back, it doesn’t seem to be what he wants. I don’t know how to do this. I need to talk to Kasha and Henley, get some advice from my two besties who know how to handle men. But right now, I have to get to work.
Work. Where I’ll see Simon again this afternoon, and every afternoon. Why did I think this would be easy?
Simon has kept his word and hasn’t asked me to come over again. The past few days, we’ve chatted for a few minutes when he picked up Toby, and we’ve been texting, but that’s it.
What sucks is that I find myself fighting the urge to call him. I have to keep in mind that he isn’t my boyfriend. After work on Wednesday, I’m moping around the house, wondering if I’ve given it enough time to get together with him again, when Kasha shows up unexpectedly.
“Have your shit packed by Friday, woman. We’re going to my mom’s for the long weekend. You have Monday off, right?” Kasha asks, poking around in my fridge.