Page 83 of A Stealthy Situation

“Not allowed. I have too much fun with that tongue.”

He sure does. I finally got his dick in my mouth the other day, and he was begging by the time I was done with him.

“We could be having fun with it now, but you’re all wahh schoolwork.”

“Sorry I don’t have a twin brother to do it for me.”

“Fuck you very much. I went to class today, didn’t I?”

He hums and looks pointedly toward my bag on the floor. “And you’re supposed to be reviewing it.”

Reviewing it isn’t going to help when it’s like reading another language. My brain was screaming at me the whole time I tried to note, word for word, what Professor Brooks was saying. None of it makes any sense.

I’m well and truly fucked, but I can’t tell Harrison that.

“If you’re not going to study, want to help me so we can get out of here?”

“To fuck?”

“To go to the library and study.”

I pretend to die in my chair.

“Come on, Benny. You’ll feel better once you’ve wrapped your head around it.”

All lies, but I pull my ass up anyway and head his way. “What first?”

“I’m going to do some pruning, and I’ll get you to make up some more baking soda spray. All the shit we need for it is down there.” He points toward the lower shelf of a metal cart.

I duck down and glance between the mix of unfamiliar things.

“Grab the spray bottle,” he says.

I pick it up.

“How much is left in there?”

I look from him to the bottle and back again. Then I lift it higher so he can see. “Ah … this much.”

“It needs to be a liter. The measurements are on the side, so check what’s in there and top it up.”

My eyes go unfocused, brain chugging along at a snail’s pace. “What the fuck is a liter?”

“Metric system, baby. Just under … about a quarter of a gallon.”

“A gallon.” My cheeks are getting hot, and my tongue feels too fat to swallow. Right. I know what a gallon is. We constantly had milk in the fridge growing up. So, if a gallon is that and this spray bottle is this size, and then it needs to be a quarter … it means … it means …

I toss the spray bottle back on the cart with a forced laugh. “No way am I doing that while you get to massacre a tree. Budge up, I want a turn.”

“We’re not massacring my babies.”

I lean in to inspect Stacy. “That leaf looks kinda brown.”

“It’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s perfect. Seriously, I just need the spray to keep them safe from bugs. These guys need to be perfect.”

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