Page 94 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
“Please stop,” Parker begs.
“Never.” She turns to a passing couple. “Y’all need a dick sweater? Twenty percent off if you buy three!”
I watch them work, Nana charming customers with her complete lack of shame, while Parker plays the embarrassed but dutiful grandson. But he clearly feels proud to be a part of her weird and wonderful world.
“I’m going to grab a lemonade,” I announce after an hour of steady customer activity. “Y’all want one?”
“Yes, please,” Nana says. “Strawberry lemonade for me.”
“Extra ice for me,” Parker adds, catching my hand as I pass by, just to squeeze it with a smile.
Just because he likes to touch me.
Likes tolikeme.
I float to the lemonade stand on happy vibes and float back with three sweating cups.
We people-watch and penis-warmer-and-cozy-sell until lunch, when Parker and I leave Nana with Eugenia, who’s stopped by for a visit, and slip away to explore a little. Parker shows me the parts of the square we missed in all the chaosyesterday—the pottery store, the children’s bookstore where he devoured The Hunger Games series, and the ice cream shop that still makes the same flavors they did when they opened in 1968.
“Gluten-free Pineapple upside-down cake, huh?” I ask, watching him attack his two scoops with single-minded focus. “How is it?”
“Amazing, have a lick,” he says, extending his cone my way.
“No thanks, I’m good. It wouldn’t pair well with my butter pecan.” I take a bite of my cone, let the sweetness melt on my tongue. “Where to next?”
“Here,” he says, nodding toward a small rock trail leading away from the sidewalk. “I’ll show you my favorite secret spot.”
I grin. “I like a secret spot.”
“And this is a good one,” he says as we duck under low-hanging tree limbs. “Not only is it quiet, but there’s loads of shade.”
“It’s so hot today,” I say. “I can’t believe Nana’s selling anything intended to keep a person warm in this heat. Even if it’s just a small part of the body.”
“Or not so small,” Parker says, glancing back at me as he ducks between two overgrown azalea bushes concealing the entrance to a pocket park. “How are your lady parts holding up?”
I huff out a laugh. “Fine. But we should probably stop jumping each other’s bones every ten minutes. At least until she has a chance to build up her endurance.”
He nods seriously. “You don’t go from couch to 5K in a week.”
“Exactly.” I grin as I glance around the park. “Wow, this is so cute.”
Magnolia trees create a natural cathedral, branches meeting overhead in a canopy so thick the temperature has dropped at least five degrees. Someone hung a garland of paper flowers between the trees at some point. They’re kind of soggy-lookingnow, but still magical. And when I turn back to Parker, he’s done with his cone and pulling a blanket from his backpack.
“You planned this?” I ask, impressed.
He shrugs, proud and a little shy, which only makes the surprise more adorable. “Yeah, I felt bad about breaking your vagina and wanted to do something special. But I forgot the picnic snacks. I got too wrapped up in packing penises.”
“Understandable,” I say, loving every second of this bizarre conversation.
Loving…him.
“That’s why I detoured by the ice cream place on the way.”
“The ice cream was great,” I murmur, pulse racing faster as I realize it’s true. Idolove him. Present tense. This isn’t a future destination I’m on my way to. I’m already there.
And God, it happened so fast.
Maybe too fast?
