Page 142 of Satan's Spawn
“I wanted you to pop out of the blue other days too, yet you didn’t.”
“I couldn’t.”
Now we’re getting somewhere.
“Why?”
“Because I had things I needed to handle. Shit to get off my mind. Couldn’t do it at Riverside.”
“Do you really hate me?” I ask.
“Yes. I really do.”
“Why?”
He lifts a boot onto the bench, resting his elbow over his knee as he smokes. “I ask a question now.”
“Fine.” I lean my shoulder against the back of the bench.
“Are you a virgin?”
Of course that’s the first question he wants to ask.
Typical caveman.
“I thought you were already convinced I was.”
“Just answer the question.”
“It depends.”
“On what?”
“On what your definition of a virgin is.”
He flicks the cigarette onto the sidewalk. “Pretty sure there’s only one.”
“Pretty sure you’re wrong.”
Crayton whorls his hand, as if saying get on with it.
“Well, if your definition of a virgin is a hymen being intact, then no I’m not. If you’re referring to whether or not I’ve ever had a man’s penis inside me, then, yeah, I guess I am.”
“I’m referring to the dick.” He retorts. “And good, because I won’t have anyone else inside you.”
I let out an incredulous laugh.
“Are you saving me for you or some shit?”
If his eyes were daggers they’d slice me like a damn cucumber. “If I feel like it.”
And….I’ve had enough of this psycho babble bullshit. Fuck this guy. I was stupid to believe we can actually get along.
When he’s not making me orgasm, that is.
“That’s it, I’m done.” I spring out of the seat. “I refuse to entertain your chauvinistic crap any longer.”
Spinning around I march off, tossing the bag of peanuts in the trash, buried in so much anger I don’t see the guy I’m walking into until I’ve already collided with his chest.
