Page 90 of Catcher's Lock
“Helping.”
“I don’t need help.” But I side-eye him thoughtfully. Now that Josha’s convinced me the guy isn’t a threat—“he doesn’t get my dick hard” is pretty compelling evidence—maybe hecould be a resource. “Okay, so maybe I have a couple of questions.”
“I have all the answers,” he says blithely, and before I can stop him, he’s pried my phone off my chest to check out the screen. Which shows a young blond guy in the shower, flirting with the camera over his bare shoulder, and a caption that declares “The Ultimate Bottom’s Guide to Anal Hygiene and Maintenance.”
Kill me now.
Rather than laughing, Ellis claps his hands to his mouth and gives me wide anime eyes.
“You’re gonna bottom for my boy?” he asks way too loudly.
“He’s not your boy,” I hiss, snatching my phone back and regretting all of my life choices. Or at least the ones in the last five minutes that led to me having this conversation with Ellis.
“Oooh. Yes. Definitely lean into that whole growly, possessive thing. It’s giving total power bottom.”
“Power bottom?” I like the sound of that.
“Honey, we have sooo much to talk about. In fact,” he says, bouncing up from the bench with a wild gleam in his eyes. “We should go shopping.”
“Right now?”
He glances pointedly around the deserted tent. “You got something better to do?”
Well…maybe not?
“Okay.” Pocketing my phone, I get to my feet. “Let me go tell Josha.”
“You guys are so adorable. I can’t even be jealous. It’s like a rom-com with Sam Heughan and—” He gives me an appraising once-over. “Young Colin Farrell?”
“I don’t know who those people are,” I tell him. “And if you knew me, you wouldn’t be comparing my life to a rom-com.”
“Stop ruining my fantasy.”
In spite of myself, I burst out laughing.
Fair enough.
I’ve destroyed enough fantasies for one lifetime.
30
Canon
Gemiah
Age 24 (Now)
Josha is exhausted and grumpy by the time he makes it back to the trailer, no doubt feeling the effects of a long day with the welder after his decidedly rocky morning. He perks up when I ply him with kisses and the large pizza I brought home from Frankies, though, making me glad I thought of it. Even though sausage and onions and cheese are not part of the Ultimate Bottom diet, and I’m now desperately low on cash.
Two Advil, three slices, and one of his disgusting mint matés later, he’s smiling as I regale him with a slightly redacted version of my day.
“…says if we call him with a parts list for Bonnie, he’ll let me pay them off in installments. And I stopped in at the surf shop to see if I could pick up a few shifts. They put me on the sub list and said they might even throw me a few lessons. They always need extra coverage during tourist season, so as soon as I get the bike running, I can start making some cash. Enough to get me through until tour. Then I guess I’ll have to see what kind of bone my mom is willing to throw me. I’m good enough to work concessions with the apprentices, at least.” Looking up from my picked-apart pizza, I catch him with a careful look on his face. Choosing to forestall any well-meaning comments, I pretend to misinterpret. “Not what you expected from a shopping day with Ellis?”
“Not exactly,” he admits, letting me off the hook.
“What were you imagining? Booty shorts and butt plugs?”
He snorts, his ears going pink, and I grin, thinking of the bag I stashed under the sink in the half bath.
