Page 36 of Meet Hate Love
I glared over the top of my paper cup at her. “In what country is dick doodling a crime?”
“I’m sure the same countries where porn is illegal.” She took a huge gulp, and I matched her. “And just as an FYI,” she said. “I’m pretty sure, if the Vatican found out about your plan for the SistpeenChapel… you’d do jail time. I mean, how on Earth do you think you’re going to get your dick out in the Sistine Chapel and not go to jail?”
I hadn’t exactly figured that one out yet. The alarm on my phone went off.
“I don’t know.” I downed my wine, grabbed my tripod and camera from my backpack, and pushed to my feet.
“Where are you—” She froze, paper wine cup halfway to her lips. Her widening gaze pinged between the equipment in my hand and my crotch. “No! You are not about to get him out?”
“Well, I had all intentions of ordering you an Uber so you weren’t anywhere near the vicinity, but then you bought your bucket wine, and here we are.” I attached the camera to the tripod and then crouched to rummage through the backpack for my bottle of lotion.
“If you get arrested for indecent exposure, I swear I’ll pretend I don’t know you.”
“Give me some credit. I’m not going to just whip it out in the middle of the Champ de Mars. There’s an art to this, you know.”
Her attention dropped to the lotion bottle now in my hand, and one of her petite brows slowly lifted. “That involves a bottle of Country Apple lotion?”
“Yes.” I stared across the dark park. The park that was filled with more people than I liked. “Hey, do me a favor. Whistle if anyone comes close.”
“Whistle?” A panicked look of concern crossed her pretty face. “I can’t whistle.”
“Then clap your hands or moo like a cow.” I started toward the edge of the bushes.
“I am not mooing.”
“Just make some kind of noise. Scream for all I care.”
“So people can think I’m getting murdered?”
“It would keep the attention off me. And that’s the point.” I smiled over my shoulder, then wedged myself between the foliage. The dry leaves underneath me crunched when I popped the tripod into place.
Blake whisper-shouted my name from the other side of the hedge.
“What?” I flipped the camera screen to face me.
“Are you serious? That’s as far as you’re going? You’re not even that deep in there!”
“It’s not a forest, Blake.” I tried to line up the angle so I could not only get Paul in the shot but also the tower peeking through the gap in the foliage. Getting a good angle on a person’s face was one thing. Getting a good angle on a dick…
The bush behind me rustled. “I can hear you moving around.”
“Did you just hit the shrub? You realize you’re going to look insane to everyone out there?”
She hit it again. “Go farther back so I can’t hear you breathing.”
“There’s no farther back to go.” I found the perfect angle, then went for my zipper and dropped my pants and boxers to my knees.
“I just heard you unzip yourself. Now, I can’t get the picture of you with your dick in your hand out of my head.” She huffed from the other side of the hedge. “I can’t stay here. I feel… soiled.”
“You can’t move. You’re my lookout.”
The bush shook again, some of its leaves falling to the ground. “I never agreed to be your lookout.”
“You said you’d scream if someone came. I’d call that an indirect verbal agreement.”
“I did not. I sat there in silence.”
“You didn’t say no, though.”
