Dashing All the Way

by Chelsea Curto

there’s nothing I love more in life than proving a man wrong.

“Maybe you’re afraid for her to listen because deep down, you know I’m much better at praise than you are.”

“You know I’m a man, Margo. Take off your underwear so I can show you I know what to do with my tongue.”

“Do you have coffee?” “Just brewed a fresh pot. The only things I know about you are how many of my fingers you can take and that you steal the covers in the night, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted milk and sugar.”

Everything about it is easy. I can’t stop laughing, and there’s not an ounce of awkwardness in hanging out like friends after he railed me for hours last night.

I’m going to hell. There’s no way I make it through the pearly gates now, not when I’m down here about to fuck myself with a Christmas ornament while a man I barely know watches me.

Jesus is probably rolling in his grave because of what a ho-ho-hoe I am.

I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to move on from something that was never mine to have.

Rules are meant to be broken, Margo, and I don’t think three hundred and one nights with you would be the worst thing in the world.”

The world is a lot nicer before everyone wakes up.

“I’m never going to stop complimenting you.” I reach for my desk drawer and open it, pulling out the order I had delivered earlier today. “Even when I’m on top of you. Even when you’re on your knees in front of me. You are, without a doubt, the most spectacular woman I’ve ever been with in my life, Margo. And I don’t want you to forget that.”

“Jesus, Margo. You’re my favorite person in the entire world.” Two weeks with him, and he’s my favorite person too.

I want to kiss you on New Year’s Eve and I want to wake up with you on New Year’s Day.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking to her,” Finn snaps, and I shiver. “We’re not playing that game. It’s not weird. It’s not creepy. We met. She didn’t know who I was. We spent time together, and we like each other. We’re adults. It’s consensual. Keep your comments to yourself, or say them to me. Not her.”