Page 41 of Your Last First Kiss
I was already tucking but turn to face the toilet so she doesn’t get an inappropriate show. In my rush, I almost catch my dick in the zipper and bite back a curse.
“Izzy?”
She turns on the faucet and sticks her little face into the spray with an open mouth. What the hell am I supposed to do here?
Miller arrives in the doorway a second later. “Iz, you have to knock.” He looks at me and laughs when I shoot him a dirty look.
She looks between the two of us while swishing water around her mouth, then spits a mouthful of light pink water into the sink.
“But I lost a tooth!” She holds up a tiny white tooth with bright red roots that make me want to gag.
“What if Mr. Dillon had been taking a dump?”
She looks from her dad to me and laughs. “Misters don’t poop, Dad.”
“They don’t?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
“No. Remy said misters are full of shit.”
My mouth drops open. I don’t know if I should laugh or hold it in. It results in a weird choking sound.
“Izzy. Shit is an adult word. You can’t say it.”
She shrugs and pushes the tooth closer to me. “See?”
“I see,” I say.
“So were ya?” she asks with the tooth still held high in the air. Her mass of unruly hair covers half her face. Why doesn’t she pull it back? Wouldn’t it be annoying to have it all in your eyes like that? “Well, were ya?” she asks with a tap of her foot, finally brushing back a lock of golden hair.
“Was I what?”
“Pooping?”
“Not this time.”
“But you do?” she asks with a frown.
Is this kid serious?
“Poop?” I ask. Confused doesn’t begin to describe this interaction.
“Yeah. Do ya?”
Miller laughs but does nothing to intervene.
“Yeah, kid. I poop. We all poop. Everyone poops,” I say, throwing my hands in the air.
“Huh.” She shrugs and pushes past Miller. “I need a bag, Dad. Think the tooth fairy can get through the storm?”
“I’m sure she’ll manage,” he says easily. Turning to me, he shrugs. “Want a beer?”
I hold up my hands. “I was taking a piss. After I wash my hands, I’d love one.” But even as I say it, I know that’s not the truth.
“Piss is a bad word, too, Mr. Dillon,” Izzy calls from somewhere in the apartment.
“Izzy! Stop swearing, or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap,” Miller demands, and I have a newfound respect for him.
“Do you do that?” I ask in a hushed tone.
