Page 24 of Playful Kris

It takes me several minutes to compose myself enough to finish my shower, and now the green bottle makes me smile.

By the time I roll past the welcome sign outside of Birchwood, I’m only fifteen minutes behind. And I can’t even be mad about it because I feel refreshed after jacking off to thoughts of Kameron in the shower.

I drive past the fire station and roll my eyes when I see that tool, Damon, standing outside talking to some woman who’s nearly falling over laughing at whatever the jackass is saying.

Kameron is sitting on her front porch when I pull into her driveway, her suitcase next to her along with a backpack and a grocery sack. Cora’s car is gone, so I’m assuming she’s already left for work.

Shifting the truck in park, I climb out and make my way to the porch to help her.

“Sorry I’m late,” I tell her as she pushes her suitcase toward me.

I laugh slightly, Kameron is usually a very strong, independent woman, but in this moment, she so willingly accepts my help.

“It’s fine. Let’s get this over with.” Her tone is anything but beingfinelike she says.

“Look, I’m sorry I was late. I couldn’t sleep so I hit the gym this morning, and I lost track of time.”

She looks over her shoulder at me when she gets to the front of my truck. She looks at me.Reallylooks at me, and I have to force a blank mask over my face so she doesn’t see why I’ve lost track of time, or why this trip has me so damn anxious.

Luckily for me, she doesn’t say anything else and climbs in while I put her stuff in the back seat. When I climb in, she has a Prime energy drink sitting in the cupholder that I always designate to be the driver’s, something we used to jokingly argue about during our relationship.

Or maybe it was a real argument, I don’t know. We fought about everything back then, and in my defense, as the driver, it does matter where your drink is.

Comfortability is key.

“I hope you still drink these.” She points to the drink before pulling a Coke Zero from the bag and sitting it beside the Prime.

“I do.” I nod, shifting the truck into reverse and pulling out onto her street. “And I see you still drink that nasty shit.”

She narrows her eyes at me, and I chuckle. Anything with zero sugar tastes like shit to me, and she knows it.

“They taste better than regular coke.” She tries to reason, but she doesn’t push it too far, knowing I could argue about this all day.

By the time we hit interstate forty, we’ve been riding in a comfortable silence. No music, no talking, just the GPS telling us which way to go.

Once I’ve set the cruise control, I pickup my phone and open the Amazon Music app and begin playing one of Phix’s new songs. He reminds me of Machine Gun Kelly and Eminem mixed together. Some of his songs are bangers while others I’ll skip each time they come on.

But Bonnie and Clyde just hits different.

“Taylor Swift, please,” Kam says, turning in her seat to face me. “I’ll give you all my beef jerky.”

I flick my eyes in her direction, but quickly back to the road as I weave through Jackson traffic.

“Depends…” I trail off. “What do you have?”

“All your favorites.” She smiles, like she’s already winning this.

“Aw, you still think about me even when buying beef jerky,” I tease.

“I do not.” She rolls her eyes, and fuck me when she does it…

“What if my favorites have changed?”

“Peppered or garlic and onion?” She smiles triumphantly.

My face falls, damn. I know she’s got me, and she knows it too.

Peppered is hands down the best, but garlic and onion is no match. We went on a spring break trip to Gulf Shores once, and the jerky shack hooked me on garlic and onion seasoning on their jerky.

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