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“Never allow others to dampen your smile, Micaela. They’re not worth its loss.”
“Fuck, Shortcake. You do that again, and I won’t wait to get you into that ludicrous pink bus of yours before tearing these absurdly tight jeans off your perfect fucking ass.”
“Goddamn it, Shortcake. You feel like every sin I ever wanted to commit.”
Henry Bardot is an animal in the sack, a grump on the street, and a softy who assists in aftercare and cuddles.
By the end of the day, I have four new friends, a new pair of skates, and a date for my first paycheck deposit. No derby name yet, but there’s always tomorrow.
“Fuck no. I need details man. How did it happen? Why did it happen? Is it going to happen again? Is Lala a tiger in the sack?” My hand shoves at Eddie and he falls back a step under my strength.
“Woah, easy, big guy. I was just messin’ with you. No need to get violent over it.” Eddie is rubbing at his chest where I pushed him. I hadn’t meant to hit him that hard. I just reacted. In a way I never have before.
I suppose it could be worse. She’s obviously not upset with me for sleeping with her friend or she would have stormed over to my condo and berated me for hours if she was. Does this mean she approves of me and Micaela? She’s never approved of anyone I’ve slept with. Usually, she sighs and shakes her head at me. I’m not sure I like her approval.
My knuckles crack under the pressure of my fisting hand. I don’t like the way he watches her, and I really don’t like the way I react to him watching her. She’s not mine, he can look at her however he wants to, I remind myself like a mantra. It doesn’t calm my heating blood though.
“Hi.” Her one-word greeting has me almost on my knees. That’s a rather strange reaction. I cover it up with just as eloquent a greeting.
“Dollface, this is Henry, my… friend. He likes to call me Shortcake. I don’t really know why. He’s never explained it.” “Because you remind me of Strawberry Shortcake.
I peel away her damp panties while claiming her mouth in a kiss that says she’s mine, and I dare any one to say otherwise.
Before, I thought there was nothing that could make me smile. I was wrong. She can.
“Yes it is. I’m a guest, and since I did not bring an overnight bag or get advance warning of ice tundra flooring, you should provide me with proper footwear to survive your house.”
As soon as I finish my last bite, Henry is picking up my empty plate and taking it to the sink. For such a grumpy Gus, he sure is a clean one.
“Done with your phone call?” Henry asks when he reenters the room, this time wearing a shirt. Sad face.
As I reach for my purse, strong arms wrap around my waist and tighten as Henry kisses the side of my neck. I’m starting to realize he really likes doing that. Burying his face in the crook between my throat and shoulder.
He’s just doing it because he wants to and it feels good. Nothing more. There is no meaning behind his actions beyond surface level.
“When can I see you again?” come his muffled words. “Um, I have a shift at Wheelies on Tuesday. I could come over after, or Thursday after Pilates.” Henry legitimately growls in my ear. “Thursday is too long. Come over Tuesday. Or, even better, I could swing by your bus tomorrow.”
“Uuugh,” he sighs. His head falls back like a toddler pouting. It’s adorable. “Fine. Tuesday. What time are you off?”
“Don’t wear panties. And don’t bring an overnight bag. I like seeing you in my clothes.” He places a soft kiss on my jaw before withdrawing.
“You know, I can bring an overnight bag and still wear your clothes? I’ll just bring toiletries and a change of clothes, so I don’t have to do the walk of shame in the prior day's outfit.” “If you must.”
The only way I’ll stop traveling in my bus is if I find a man as loving and devoted as Leo is to Fawn. Anything less isn’t worth it.
He’s far more affectionate than he believes himself to be, or he’s just a very private person and doesn’t share that side of him in public. Possibly both.
“Yeah, I don’t believe that. But it’s nice to know you aren’t repulsed by my entire wardrobe anymore.” Henry stops and turns me by my hip to face him, a small frown creasing his brow. “I could never be repulsed by you, Micaela.”
“You are far too beautiful to be repulsed by. Just looking at you sometimes catches me by surprise at how much I don’t want to look away.”
“You are worthy of appreciation and celebration. You are loved by your brother and sister, and even Eddie and Leo. You are a good man and deserve a day once a year to spotlight your life and accomplishments. Even if that’s only having lived another year.”
“I’m twenty-seven. And in case you’re wondering, my birthday is September eighth.”
There’s no way he can’t feel it in the way I kiss him, and in the way he holds me. But we don’t say it. We don’t verbalize our emotions. Instead, we convey them through physical attention. The only way Henry knows how.
Relieving my anxiety and boosting my serotonin without a single pill. They should bottle up her energy and smile and sell it in little pink bottles with the cutest cartoon hearts in existence on it. With zero side effects, she could very well put Xanax out of business.
Instead of worrying about what it means that I can’t wait to see Micaela tonight, and not just fuck her but talk to her, hear her laugh, and make her smile, I’m just going to think about what strange food she’s going to force me to eat. Focus on what movie we might watch, or which one of my shirts she’ll wear to bed.
Wow. Do I really wear that much gray? Looking around my office, I realize just how gray and dull my world is.
For the first time since I moved into this office years ago, I feel the desire to change.
I have been hiding behind all the gray and stoicism. This is all Micaela’s fault, no doubt. Her pink is bleeding over into my monotone gray world, washing it in a prism of color.
wait. It’s Lala, isn’t it?” Micaela. If I can’t call her Lala, neither should he.
“Damn. I’m going to have to buy her a present to thank her. I never thought you would smile again.” “Don’t you fucking dare. If anyone is going to buy her a present, it’s going to be me. Understand?”
“Speaking of presents, I’m having a dinner for my birthday this Saturday.” “What the hell is going on? Are you serious?”
As long as he doesn’t ask me who’s planning it and what kind of relationship we have.
Jackson, my co-conspirator, lets me and the two party rental employees into the penthouse elevator, and when we enter his place, it looks as it always does, immaculate and shiny.
“You give me a new experience every time I see you,” he quips, licking his lower lip in invitation. “True, but this one is more fun.” “I beg to differ.”
The growing emptiness in my chest is slowly filling. Filling with love for Pittsburgh, love for my new friends at the skate shop, love for Fawn and Leo and their future daughter, love for my Pilates classes with the girls, love for our brunches. Love for this neighborhood, and Henry’s penthouse. Love for Henry.
you like the color?” I ask, spinning in a slow circle so he can get the full view. “I picked it just for you.” I realize as I say this that he’s wearing a pink dress shirt under his gray vest. “And I wore pink. Just for you,” he chuckles, and I can’t stop staring at him as he saunters over to me.
“I think you look sexy as hell, but don’t change your color just for me. I like you in all your pink just as much as I’d like you in any other color.”
Watching the waitress flirt with him and touch his bicep all sultry like when she wishes him a happy birthday makes me want to break every delicately painted finger on her hand.
Henry leans in and speaks quietly into my ear. “You were right. Thank you for forcing me to come tonight. I don’t know why I’ve avoided this for so long.”
And lastly, Samson gives him a giant black dildo that is at least a foot and a half long. Henry chucks it at his head. There’s also a Costco size box of condoms, and a bottle of strawberry flavored lube. He also looks at me and winks.
Does every fucking person at this table know we’re having sex, but not verbally acknowledging how Henry acts like we are nothing more than platonic friends?
I love my brother, but this is more time than we’ve spent together in years. I like my privacy and solitude—other than Micaela—and I’d like to keep it that way.
Mr. Grumpasaurus: What are you wearing? I can’t very well tell him what I’m really wearing. That would create too many questions. Instead, I let my dirty mind answer for me. Lala: A vibrator and a smile.
My spine straightens and my chin lifts along with the corners of my pink painted lips as he watches stone still, except for his rapidly blinking eyes.
