Out on a Limb

by Hannah Bonam-Young

This one is different, though. He even has a dead mom,” Caleb adds far too excitedly. “Oh, bonus!” I say, matching his energy. “I love when their mom is dead. It makes things so much easier around the holidays.”

He’s tall. Really tall. As if his body was stretched out with a rolling pin before being placed into whatever magical golden boy oven he was baked in. He’s got that tousled, nineties-boy-band, middle-parted hair that’s suddenly back in style. It’s dark blond, which I can choose to forgive. He has a crooked smile that says get out while you can under a not-crooked but rugged nose and soft eyes.

I’m treated to the view of a boyish, tilted smile

Perhaps it’s the way his eyes search my face like he’s trying to place me. Like we’ve met before. Or maybe as if he can’t believe we haven’t.

He continues twisting my hair through his fingers, curling it around the backs of his knuckles

“Now…go upstairs and wait for me.”

“Open those for me, honey.” Honey? Hmm, I think I like it.

“Oh, hell yeah.” He breathes out with a laugh. “I could definitely be into being called sir.”

He runs his thumb across my mouth until I part my lips for him. Then he moves his thumb between my lips and pushes down against my tongue, prying my jaw open. “Better,” he says, inhaling sharply.

He moans shakily as I swallow him back. “So much quieter,”

“Well, I mean,” Sarah says, crouching closer to me across the counter, “some women are hot garbage.” “That’s my sister!” Caleb protests. “You know who she is,” Sarah fires back from behind gritted teeth.

“So…do we—do we get married?” “What?” I jump back. “No! What? Why would we get married? We don’t even know each other!” He sits straighter, blowing out a breath. “Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me just then.”