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Once, a woman told me all the color I needed in the world resided in my eyes. I blocked her number the next day. I
“Why didn’t you say something? Announce yourself, cough awkwardly? Anything but creep up on me assassin’s creed style and scare the living bejesus out of me.”
“Then how do you know you don’t like it, if you don’t try it?” “I don’t need to try cocaine to know I don’t like it.” “Sure, you do.”
“I’m sorry?” I stop dead in my tracks, the sandwich board in one hand, a gallon of milk in the other. “Have you tried cocaine?” “Of course. How else would I know if I liked it or not?”
Haven’t you ever heard the phrase, ‘my body is a temple’?” “Oh, I’ve heard it. But my body is not a temple. It’s an amusement park. Filled with popcorn, corn dogs, neon lights, and loud music. With creepy clowns and fun houses and roller coasters that make you scream with joy and vomit afterwards.”
She’s so short compared to me, barely reaching my collar bone. With all that pink rosiness, she reminds me of Strawberry Shortcake. But in an X-rated way. I’m sure there’s a porn site out there with Strawberry Shortcake getting rammed by that blueberry boy. Right now, I want to be that blueberry boy and taste the sweetness of her shortcake.
“You definitely put off an ‘I only eat vanilla ice cream, have no family photos on my wall, drive in silence, have sex in the dark with no cuddling, and a six-figure bank account vibe’.” “Eight,” I correct, off-handedly. “What?” “I have an eight-figure bank account.”
“Do you ever think about other people when you do things like that?” “I thought about you.”
Another opportunity for joviality and fun missed due to Grumplestiltskin. Someday, I’ll pay him back for that. And when that day comes, he will wish he sang Crocodile Rock with me in the flea market.
“And why would I need to know your birthday?” He sits forward a fraction, tilting his head and watching my mouth. “So, you can buy me presents and cake.” I inch forward, mirroring his movements, taunting him as he does me. “Is that so?” His lips are a fraction of an inch from mine, breathing his words into my mouth. “That’s so,” I confirm, pressing my mouth into his.
“Holy fucking shit! What the hell is happening with your face?” One accusatory finger points at me. “Are you… smiling? What is happening? How? Why?”
If he weren’t filthy rich, I would probably care more. But if he wants to buy me things, I’m not going to stop him.
“I can’t give you all of me.” The words appear to pain him to say, but he does say them. “Then you can’t have any of me.”
Pain lances through my chest, and I must be having a heart attack. Yup, definitely a heart attack. Because to call the ache in my chest anything else would be admitting I miss her. Admitting she altered something I thought unchangeable.
