Page 57 of The Pucking Wrong Date

“Uhhh,” she said, her gaze dipping to my dick. I made a slicing motion in front of it.

“That’s not yours.”

She got all red for some reason. “Sir, can you please come down.”

Whoops, I thought as the table started to tip and I fell forward onto…

Lincoln Fucking Daniels.

“My hero,” I wheezed as I started to laugh hysterically about the fact that I’d fallen into Lincoln’s lap.

He was even more golden up close.

“That’s it. I’m a motherfucking genius. Without the mother part though,” Ari added seriously, leaning between us like it wasn’t odd at all that I was sitting in Lincoln’s lap.

Lincoln pushed me off and I fell to the floor with a plop. I collapsed backwards in hysterical sounding laughter.

“Listen, Linda,” Ari said, leaning over me, and not looking confused at all why he was talking to me on the floor of a bar.

“Who’s Linda?”

“It’s a YouTube thing,” Lincoln called, frowning as he started typing on his phone.

A second later he held up a video of this cute little kid talking to his mom. I moved my hand and felt something sticky.

Oh, I was still on the floor.

Ari heaved me up and I staggered, thinking maybe I should get some water or something.

“He has to prove that he loves her,” Ari said, his hand cupping the front of his jeans for some reason. “And there’s only one way to do that.”

Lincoln nodded seriously, and I perked up because if Lincoln said it was the only way, I had to do it.

“What’s the way?”

“Let’s go,” Ari slurred, pulling on my arm and starting to heave me towards the door. “It’s the only way.”

I threw my arms up in the air as we burst through the door into the humid night air. “Where are we going?”

Lincoln slung an arm around my shoulder and I froze while Ari fiddled with the Uber app. “The only way to prove it,” he said, his voice pitched low, “is through…your dick.”

I stared at him, completely confused as the Uber pulled up. “I can’t really do that right now,” I tried to explain as I got into the car. “My dick tried to prove it, and she still left.”

The driver gave me a weird look. “It’s a dick thing,” Ari told him. “You understand.”

“Stupid fools,” the driver muttered under his breath as we pulled away from the bar. “Inked on Main Street. Let me guess, you guys decided to get matching tattoos.”

I gave Lincoln the side-eye. “Why are we going to a tattoo parlor?”

Ari patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. It’s what must be done, young padawan.”

Lincoln snorted. “I thought it was young grasshopper.”

“Stars Wars seemed more Disney-ish.”

“True,” Lincoln replied, pulling up a video of Monroe on his phone. She was passed out on the couch and Blake was stretched out on another couch, the TV still playing a movie.

The car stopped in front of a place called Inked, which was clearly a tattoo parlor, even if the name didn’t give it away.

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