“Mmm, thanks that sounds great,” he accepts a bit awkwardly. I find the blush coloring his cheeks adorable and have to force myself to focus on the burger.
“Perfect burger?” Sam asks, swallowing the last bite of his. “Can I get one, too?”
I nod toward him. His presence interrupted the weird atmosphere around Mel and me, therefore the fucker deserves a burger.
“The secret for the perfect burger is,”—I hear myself saying while loading the buns—“apart from the choice of good ingredients, the way you stack the toppings.”
“Can you show me?” Mel asks, looking interested in my bordering on obsessive trait.
“The condiment must always be placed on the top and/or bottom bun,” I squirt some ketchup and barbecue sauce on it. “Pickles should be next, followed by the burger patty with melted cheese on top.” Mel and Sam have leaned closer to me on both sides, but it’s the little pixie’s strawberry scent that hits my nostrils and fills my lungs deliciously.
“Then vegetables.”
“No tomato, don’t like it,” Mel says, looking sheepish for whatever reason. I let go of the red slice, shrugging at him.
“I don’t eat corn. Can’t stand the weird shape.” I wink at him. Did I really do that? By the shocked expression plastered on his face I sure did. WTF.
I clear my throat. “Lastly the lettuce and the bun.” I wrap half of the burger with a napkin and hand it to Mel. He directs an amused smile my way and I feel unreasonably fucking proud of myself. The moan he lets out after the first bite goes straight to my dick, and I can’t take my eyes away from his moving mouth and curling wet lips. Confusion fills my head while my body knows exactly what it wants.But it can’t be.Can it?
I take a couple of steps back, hoping to break the spell I’m surrounded by. But when Sam asks Mel for a bite of the burger, and I see him leaning over Mel and sinking his teeth where Mel just did, an illogical irking feeling makes me bristle.
“Who wants to go for a swim?” Asher’s voice makes me turn toward him and his tight, bright neon-green bathing suit almost blinds me. His taste in clothes is very…unusual. And seeing a hulking guy in extravagant garments is even…weirder. Perhaps because of the larger amount of fabric usually covering his XXL body.
I sigh loudly. Maybe a swim is exactly what I need to clear my dirty thoughts and dirty dick. Again.
As water surrounds me I shut off my mind and lose myself in the blue.
MEL
Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and the entire angels’ choir, what the fuck just happened? My aching head feels like it has its own beating pulse, right between my eyes. My right side burns and every time I breathe it’s like I get stabbed with a dance pole—with no G-string-clad ass to look at. The red and blue lights rolling on top of the police car in front of me are hurting my eyes. Why did they leave it on? We are in the small town of Newnan, not on fucking 9-1-1: Lone Star.
The evening air is sticky hot but the cold, unforgiving metal of the ambulance bed is turning my butt cheeks into peach popsicles. I glance at the blood-stained, totally ruined green shorts. I just bought these for fuck’s sake. The lump in my throat grows bigger, threatening to choke me.
When the paramedic rubs some disinfectant on my bleeding knees a hiss escapes me. I tighten the coarse blanket he gave me around my trembling body. The adrenaline is abandoning me, and I start to feel thegravityof the situation. John Mayer’s song pops into my aching head for a second. I bet he never had to deal with such a shitty situation. Although his cheating, playboy persona suggests otherwise. Scorned lovers can turn scary crazy. Lysa Tully crazy. I know it well since I kind of slightly touched that insanity. That’s how I met Jordan and the others.
“Somebody needs to stay with you tonight, just in case the hit your head took makes you feel dizzy or causes vomiting,” the paramedic is telling me. I nod quickly regretting the movement when a sharp-nail-like pain spears my brain. I moved from NY to Newnan after my last relationship crashed and burned. I thought the change of scenery to a smaller, quieter town would help me make better choices and stay out of trouble. I guess I’m moreMurder, She Wrotethan I thought, having what my full-on-proper mother would call inconveniences—which I renamed big ass problems—following me around.
I force my eyes to open again and look down at my cracked phone. The paramedic said I couldn’t spend the night alone—I just wish he meant a thick dick available for a ride. Like I could move any part of my body without flinching at the moment. I slap away the dirty image from my mind and focus on the damn present. Garret is on a date, and God knows he needs it. I think the spider webs in his boxers have their own spiderwebs. Sam is working and he just started this job two days ago. Jordie it is. I dial his number.
Asher answers after two rings, “Hey, Mel.”
“Hey. Mmm, is Jordie there?” I whisper and quickly clear my throat trying to find some Schwarzenegger stoicism inside of me.
“Yes, But he’s sick. A stomach bug.” Asher’s voice is low and calm, but I can hear the worry lacing his tone.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” My voice cracks at the end and I’m already thinking of calling Daniel even though he’s working at the tattoo shop, when I hear Russel’s hoarse voice.
“What’s wrong?”
Fuck. Even in my aching condition, the sound of his voice frees the treacherous butterflies inside my belly.
I try and think of someone else. Someone who isn’t the totally straight guy I’ve been crushing on hard the last month. Joe Manganiellonice, Matthew Goodeeven better.Luke Evansyes it’s working…all morph back into Russel. I’m so thoroughly fucked.
“Nothing. I mean everything,” I breathe out, trying to keep the tears in.
“Where are you? What happened?” Russel hurriedly says, his tone bossy and gentle at the same time.
“At the shelter. Somebody tried to break in and I s-stopped him,” I choke out.So much for Schwarzenegger.I internally roll my eyes at myself, but fuck, anybody would feel a bit shaken after theDie Hardmoment I’ve undergone. Asher mumbles something on the other end of the phone, too low for me to understand.
