Page 45 of Bad at Love
“He does not!” I cry out. “He has standards. He has girlfriends. He doesn’t sleep around.”
“Uh-uh. I don’t trust this whole serial monogamy thing. I think it’s bullshit. I think it’s a way for him to be a manwhore and a playboy and whatever else you want to call him without being slammed for it.”
“First of all, men don’t get slammed for being players. Girls do. And Laz isn’t the type of guy who would care what people think either way.”
“He’s an odd duck, I’ll give him that. But don’t kid yourself about him. He’s good as a friend but that’s about it. The guy can’t hold down a relationship to save his life. There’s a reason for that and one you don’t need to find out.”
“Naomi,” I whine, “we’re just friends and that’s it. This isn’t actually dating. We aren’t sleeping together. God, he hasn’t even kissed me yet.”
“Yet.See? Yet. Before you know it, you’ll be friends with benefits.”
“That only works if you just meet each other and decide to be fuckbuddies. We aren’t fuckbuddies. It’s too late for that. We’re just buddies. And I do want his advice because I think he knows what’s best for me.”
“Yeah, his dick.”
I groan. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“You’re right, you probably shouldn’t have. But since you’re doing this anyway, let me know what his piercing looks like. Is it the Prince Albert or the Jacob’s Ladder or something else entirely...”
Back when Naomi and I first met Laz, we were intrigued by his supposed dick piercing, which led to many nights at our apartment drinking wine and googling all the possibilities.
Of course now, I’ve pretty much forgotten all about it.
Well, kind of. I know I shouldn’t think about his dick at all but the truth is I often do.
I think about how big it is.
What piercing he has.
What his balls look like.
If he hangs to the left or the right.
Actually, I know that last one. He hangs to the right. Hey, if he’s going to wear those tight, rock star jeans at his shows, then I’m going to notice his dick.
And, honestly, it hasn’t really been a problem for me. But now…I don’t know. Every single sexual thought I’ve ever had about Laz suddenly seems completely inappropriate now that we’re fake dating each other.
“Marina?” Naomi asks.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“God, you’re thinking about his penis, aren’t you?”
“I’m going to go now.” I pause. “And please don’t use the word penis.”
She chuckles. “Okay. Well good luck on your date. Just remember, you’re lovely just the way you are.”
There’s no use telling Naomi that Laz pretty much said that exact same thing during our first date (except with Laz’s accent, when he says it, it comes out as “louvlay”). I can’t blame her for being cynical though. Even with her and Robert’s couples counseling session tomorrow, she still has an uphill battle when it comes to their relationship.
I glance out the window. The gloom we’ve had for the last while has lifted and it’s a brilliantly hot and sunny day. No breeze either, which is good for the bees. It tends to make them agitated and the last thing we need on this date is for them to get all hot and bothered. I know Laz hasn’t quite come out and said that he’s afraid of bees but it’s going to take a lot of convincing to get him in his bee suit.
I make myself a cup of tea with some raw honey, courtesy of the girls, then slip on my jeans and a T-shirt and head outside, the grass wonderfully soft on my feet. Barbara has been more than generous letting me turn the entire backyard beyond the pool area into my own oasis. It can get expensive with all the water bills but luckily she doesn’t care.
There’s a nice strip of lawn running up to the hives and the rest of the yard is sand and gravel, evenly split between drought-tolerant plants to keep things eco-friendly and flowers that attract bees. Since lavender hits both those targets, I’ve planted lavender absolutely everywhere.
I take in a deep breath, letting the sun warm me fromabove and the ground warm me from below. There’s something to be said for walking barefoot, especially on grass. It’s actually scientifically proven to help ground you.
I make a mental note of it to tell Laz later.
