Page 115 of Loverboy
Gunnar lights up like he’s just won the Stud of the Year contest. “Excellent answer, baby. But I still need to know how I stack up. Let me taste it.” He leans forward, asking for a sip.
“Seriously? You hate coffee.”
“I haven’t eaten in two and a half days, and it smells good. Just try me.”
So I hand it over.
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Gunnar
Takingcare not to spill it, I take the travel mug from Posy’s hands.
My girl is doing her best to keep it together. I can tell she’s rattled. And I probably look terrifying, with a hole in my leg and a bandaged face.
But I hold her eyes and tip the cup towards my mouth. It’s bad form to spill coffee onto your bare chest when you’re trying to woo a girl. As the cup reaches me, I get a hit of that fresh coffee smell. And then the hot liquid washes over my taste buds, treating me to a wash of slightly aromatic acidity that’s immediately softened by the creamy milk.
And it’s…Wow. “That’s delicious!”
“What?” Posy laughs. “Gunnar! You tease.”
“No, baby. I love it.” Another gulp goes down my throat, and the heat feels wonderful against my aching throat. “I haven’t had coffee since college. Maybe I should have given it more of a chance.”
“College?” Posy tilts her head to the side. “You don’t mean dining hall coffee, do you?”
“Well, sure. But it was free, you know?”
“Honey.” Posy gapes at me. “You say you don’t like coffee. But your benchmark is that brown pisswater from the college urn? That’s like trying Velveeta and deciding you don’t like cheese.”
“I guess there’s still a thing or two I could learn from you. Here.” I force myself to hand the cup back. “I don’t want to hog it all.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” She bends over and grabs a second cup out of her bag. “They sent me with two. The other one was to share.”
I reach down and pick up the donut as best I can with my clumsy, bandaged hands. Then I take a nice bite and wash it down with Rico’s cappuccino. “Goddamn, it’s good to be alive.”
“You never say things like that.” Posy says. “It’s the drugs. All of a sudden you like coffee, and you’re full of crazy ideas. If you tell me you actually like New York, I’m going to ask the nurse to call a psychiatrist.”
Aw, my girl still doesn’t believe that I’m serious about her. But that’s okay, I’m going to convince her. “Come here. Come closer.”
“Why?” Posy steps in. “Do you need something?”
“Yeah, this.” I lean over, which makes my leg wound move in an uncomfortable way. But fuck it. I kiss her neck anyway. “It’s not the drugs, baby. A guy can change his stripes when he realizes what’s important.”
She wraps an arm around me and holds me tightly. “I need you, crazy man,” she whispers.
“I need you, too.”
We stay like this a long time. My leg is throbbing, but I don’t care. Posy is here. And she brought donuts.
Eventually, though, there’s a commotion in the hallway. “Why was I not told when he woke up?” demands an arrogant voice.
Then Max practically skids into the room. He takes one look at me in the bed, and his shoulders relax. No—all of him relaxes. He bends over and grabs his knees, letting out a loud gust of air.
“Huh,” I remark. “I guess a few people were worried about me.”
“You have no idea,” says Carl Bayer, striding in after his son. “Thank you for deigning to regain consciousness today. We were all about ready to sedate Max.”
“We sure were!” yells Scout from the hallway. “I have a tranquilizer gun at the ready.”
