Page 72 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

I wrapped my arms around her waist, deepening our embrace. Yesterday, she’d said this was all too much, but she was wrong. I wished I could show her just how special she was, how any guy worth his salt would have done the same thing I had.

Her hands traveled from my neck, to my chest, and then down to my belt. My dick twitched in response, already growing hard.

But then my fucking stomach growled.

She giggled as she pulled away, and I tried not to look annoyed at my traitorous stomach. I was already planning my next meal anyway, and it was going to include Henrietta, on her back, screaming my name.

“Let me make you some supper,” she said. “I’m kind of hungry anyway.”

Well there went my response. If she was hungry, she should eat. “Can I help?” Anything to get my mind off my aching balls.

“You’ve done more than enough. Sit at the island. I’ll get you a beer.”

If this girl wasn’t perfect already... “That sounds amazing.”

She smiled at me before reaching into the fridge and handing me an icy can. “Beer always tastes better after a long day of work.”

I nodded. That first-sip feeling always got me. I thumbed the top, and it cracked loudly as it opened. She got herself a beer from the fridge as well and opened it. I held my can out to her, and the aluminum made a soft bumping sound as she tapped her can to mine.

She took a drink and set her beer down on the island before reaching to the vegetable basket. “Do you like bell peppers?”

“Love ‘em,” I answered.

She grabbed a couple from the basket, along with an onion and garlic clove, then got a cut of meat from the fridge. She cut the meat first, slicing it in methodic motions.

“Do you like cooking?” I asked.

“Love it. I can’t wait to have my own kitchen someday. I want a double oven where I can cook loaves of zucchini bread every summer and a big island where everyone can sit when I make Christmas dinner.”

I loved the way she talked about her dreams, like they were this fantasyland where anything was possible. I wanted those dreams to come true for her so damn bad. “You like hosting?”

She nodded. “You just got a taste of it at Kenner’s birthday party. My family’s always coming over and hanging out.”

“Same here,” I said. “Except there’s usually a dumb prank involved. I kind of think that’s why I was so awkward. I was used to my close circle of people and new faces made me nervous.”

She nodded. “I always felt like I had plenty of friends in my family. It only got lonely at school.”

I totally got it. Hen was quiet as she chopped, giving us both time to get lost in our memories.

“You never told me about the bachelorette party,” I said.

She grinned. “There was a stripper involved.”

I nearly snorted. “A stripper?”

She nodded. “He came in wearing a suit, since Jonas is an accountant.” She shuddered slightly. “He did things with a calculator I never would have dreamed of.”

I tried to imagine what he must have done and came up blank. But judging by Hen’s reaction, that was a mental image to avoid.

“What about the bachelor trip?” she asked. “Mara said you went with them?”

I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten to tell her. “We went to La Jolla and did a kayak tour, then one of those bike and beer tours. It was pretty fun. Especially since Steve asked for an extra life jacket in case his first one failed.”

Her tinkling laugh mingled with the smell of food in the air. “Sounds like swim lessons are in order.”

“If you could get Steve back on the water, that’s probably a good idea,” I said, watching her liberally season the meat before tossing in the vegetables. While they sizzled in the pan, she got tortillas from the fridge and started some rice in another pot. “Tell me about your mom,” she said. “What does she do?”

“She’s a teacher, a good one. She won teacher of the year last year.”

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