Page 71 of Burn

Running around the corner to the bathroom, I attempt to get it off with soap and water but I scrub so much it looks like I have a rug burn on my fucking neck.

Awesome.

Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I shake my head. Goddamn it, what the hell is that stuff made from that it sticks so well? It’s like superglue.

The rest of the day, I couldn’t turn my thoughts off when it came to Caleb. He has this intensity about him, wrapped around eyes that refuse to release their hold on me.

The entire day my brain’s in a fog, and I’m worried after the way he acted when he left, he might not be back.

I laugh when he’s outside the hotel at the end of my shift, leaned against the side of the building, hands buried in his pockets. “Again?”

He shrugs, but there’s a hint of a smile seen under the lights of the hotel. “I told you I wanted you to come home with me.”

I stall and smile. “I don’t know anything about you. I probably shouldn’t,” I’m teasing and he knows it.

Bumping my shoulder, he nods to a lifted white truck parked on the street. “Not much to know. I’m boring, but I’m definitely taking you back to my place.”

“I doubt you’re all that boring.”

Opening the door to his truck, he gives another nod for me to get in. I tilt my head at him. “What are we doing?”

He shrugs. “It’s whatever we want it to be.”

Whatever. I could do whatever with him. Definitely.

I’m beginning to think some girl really did a number on him. But you know, some man, or shall I say drummer, did a number on me.

I know what you’re thinking. He’s going to break your heart. Well, for one, I’m not looking for love, so that’s out of the question. I’m just looking for a guy to fuck my brains out, and he is. So we’re good.

Cross Lay

An arrangement of hose on a pumper such that it can be quickly unloaded from either side of the apparatus; often pre-connected to a pump outlet and equipped with a suitable nozzle.

Believe it or not, I haven’t had a lot of one-night stands and none I’ve wanted a second time with. Until I met Mila and that one time is enough to make me think about plastering the streets of Seattle with wanted posters until I find her again.

And now she’s in my bed and I don’t want her to leave.

That’s a problem.

“I’m late for work,” Mila tells me, sighing like she feels the same way I do about her leaving this morning.

“You’re not a stripper, are you?” I ask, sitting down on the couch and reaching for my shoes. It’s a Sunday. You’d think someday she’d have a day off, so it leads me to ask questions like this.

I don’t think she’s a stripper, but she can suck dick better than anyone I’ve ever been with. That talent came from somewhere.

“No.” Mila laughs, leaning over to put her heels back on. “You’re not a drummer, are you?”

“Nope.”

Just as I’m about to ask her if she can you know, just call in sick today and spend the day on my dick, Jacey walks in. I only forgive her for coming home because she’s holding a tray of coffee and bags of pastries.

“I made breakfast!” she says, slamming the front door with her foot. She notices Mila on the couch, then me without a shirt on and I’m still in my boxers. I’m not sure if I’ll get dressed today. Maybe I’ll just stay naked until Mila returns to my bed later. Wait, no, that won’t work because I’m picking up an overtime shift. Damn it.

Jacey hands me a coffee and throws a bagel at my chest. “You’re disgusting.” And then she smiles tenderly at Mila like she didn’t just throw a bagel at me. “Who’s this?”

She knows who it is, but I think she asks just to be a jerk to me.

“I’m Mila,” Mila says, standing up to shake her hand.

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