A small blush stole through his cheeks, and he leaned down to smack a kiss on mine. Compliments always cheered him up.
“I’ve had more practice,” he comforted me. Not that I needed to be comforted. This was still all about Dean and giving him what he needed. I didn’t have a dick, but I could do drama.
“Ah, yes, the struggles of an attractive gay man.”
“They’re like wolves, Georgia! One innocent cherub like me in the club and they swarm like bees.”
“Wait. I’m confused. Are they wolves or bees?” I teased as he pushed the button for the elevator.
“Shut your crimson lip-stain-covered trap!”
Perfect.
A distraction of cosmetic proportions.
“You like the color?” I asked as I backed into the rear wall of the elevator, propping my chin up on a posed hand and pursing my lips.
“Hmm.” He pretended to inspect me, fluffing the hair on both sides of my head. Consideration turned into a quick smile, and a wink popped his left eye closed. “Love!”
“Thanks,” I offered with a return grin.
While Dean proceeded to gab about his recent rendezvous with a cute bartender, I couldn’t shake a question that’d been nagging me. I needed an answer.
TAPRoseNEXT (12:52PM): So, if that wasn’t your dick, whose dick was it? I think I want to know the answer to this, but there’s another part of me that’s a little afraid…
BAD_Ruck (12:53PM): Afraid I’ll reveal that I’ve got a stockpile of other dudes’ dicks on my phone?
Hells bells, that answer was not reassuring.
TAPRoseNEXT (12:54PM): …
TAPRoseNEXT (12:55PM): For real “…” is the only response I have to that.
Okay, seriously, if he didn’t respond in the next two minutes, my trigger finger was going straight for the block button.
TAPRoseNEXT (12:56PM): …! (If I could use shouty caps for ellipses, I’d be doing it RIGHT NOW)
BAD_Ruck (12:57PM): I don’t make a habit of collecting other dudes’ dick pics or taking my own. But I do have a friend (who’s a bit of a prick) who loves “gargoyle dicking” people as a prank.
TAPRoseNEXT (12:58PM): My friend (who’s pretty hilarious) referred to the dick in question as, “The Hunchcock of Notre Dame.”
BAD_Ruck (12:59PM): If I were the kind of guy who used text acronyms, I’d definitely be responding with LOL.
TAPRoseNEXT (1:00PM): Question: were you purposefully withholding important information to get me worked up?
We crossed Fifth Avenue, heading straight for my favorite family-owned deli. The sidewalks were bustling with energy, but BAD_Ruck had become quite the distraction. I only willed my eyes to look away from our message box to avoid being run over by a taxi or knocking over my fellow pedestrians.
Dean cleared his throat. “Excuse me? Are you even listening? Or am I rambling on about Sir Sucks-A-Lot for no reason?”
“Sir Sucks-A-Lot?”
“Jesus.” He sighed. “What in the hell are you doing? Are you texting someone?”
I shrugged. “Just checking work emails.” No way in hell would I give Dean any kind of ammunition regarding TapNext. I’d never live that down.
He stopped in the middle of the New York sidewalk traffic, nearly causing a woman with her dog to trip over the leash. “Work emails? You’re so full of it.”
Uh-huh. I hid the screen of my phone. “What? I’ve got that big deal with Sure Romance I need nailed down by the end of the week…”
“You’re the worst liar. Seriously. It’s like you’re so bad at lying that I honestly wonder if you’re doing it on purpose.”
“I’m not lying,” I said, fighting a smile.
Dean pointed to my mouth. “Says the girl who’s notorious for smiling or giggling nervously whenever she’s lying.”
Shit. I covered my mouth.
“Honey, you are too much,” he teased, placing his hand at the small of my back. “Now, let’s get your lying ass inside that deli so I can fight the starvation that’s threatening to take place.”
“This place is insane,” Dean whispered in my ear as we stepped in the door.
The restaurant was packed. Every table was filled, and the line to order reached the door. But I didn’t care. My nostrils had already been seduced by the delicious aromas of freshly baked breads and soups. I’d wait two hours if I had to.
“I know,” I agreed. “But it’s like this all the time.” My eyes scanned the tables for any open seats. “It looks like that woman in the corner is about to get up.”
“Perfect. You grab it. I’ll order,” Dean suggested. “The usual?”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Like you even have to ask.”
“Chicken salad. Lettuce. Light mayo. Hold the onion and tomato.”
I nodded. “I swear if you didn’t have an aversion to vaginas, I’d beg you to be my husband.”
He smirked. “Plenty of women are beards to their fabulously gay husbands.”
“Yeah, but we’d fight too much over our clothing budget. You’d shop us out of food and rent money.”
“I bet you wouldn’t be complaining too much when your curvy little ass was decked out in designer duds.”
Laughing, I held up both hands. “Fine. You’ve convinced me. If I reach the age of thirty-five and neither of us is married, I’ll be your beard.”
“Fabulous.” He winked. “Now go snatch a table while I grab the food.”
Since Dean was a diva from way back, I did as I was told. I pretended to mosey around the joint, casually stopping to look at the memorabilia on the walls, but in reality, I was watching some woman with a red turtleneck and Crocs like a hawk. By the time she gathered her trash and was getting ready to hop to her feet, I had strategically placed myself a few feet away from her table, carefully planning my descent onto her chair.
The second Turtleneck’s butt cheeks left the seat, I slid into her place with the finesse of a gazelle. Well, in my head, I looked like a gazelle. The guy whose head I nearly took off with my purse probably would’ve called it more bull in china shop, but whatever. Tomato. Tomahto.
My phone pinged inside the front pocket of my purse.
BAD_Ruck (1:12PM) Question: Is now the time to confess you’re pretty adorable when you get worked up?
TAPRoseNEXT (1:13PM) Egging me on for your own amusement? That’s not very gentlemanly of you.
BAD_Ruck (1:14PM) I can assure you, I’m a gentleman in all the ways that count.
TAPRoseNEXT (1:15PM) Are you flirting with me?
BAD_Ruck (1:16PM) If I am, is it working?
TAPRoseNEXT (1:17PM) A lady never kisses (or flirts) and tells.
BAD_Ruck (1:18PM) Neither does a gentleman.
TAPRoseNEXT (1:19PM): I think you might be BAD news.
BAD_Ruck (1:20PM): BAD in the best kind of way, sweetheart.