“I know you.” Reyes said, running his hands through his hair. He gripped the ends and shot me a worried look, “Please, for the love of God, keep it in your pants.”
Hey, I’m praying for that too man, I wanted to say, but settled for a firm nod. There was no point in getting Reyes worked up over something that hadn’t even happened yet—and with the seed I’d just planted, probably wouldn’t anytime soon.
The days following my Nurse Kline confession were peculiar to say the least. It was the first time I’d ever blurted out that type of information to a stranger, and if I’m being honest with myself, it had me a little concerned. I wasn’t a blurter. No, I was the bastard shooting the go-fuck-yourself bullets at close range in the brain, and on occasion, the comedic relief. But a blurter?
I could’ve said anything else to drive Gambrielle away—like having a three inch cock or something,
I feel like it is imperative to mention, I didn’t have a three inch cock, but I knew that no sane woman would find the measurements remotely appealing, so…
The first day following the confession was difficult. Every time Gambrielle looked at me, I could feel the displeasure radiating from her body like a visceral shockwave. Her eyes burned holes through mine, her sharp nails tapped away at her desk like a knife cutting through a fresh piece of meat. Normally women—even those who knew I was a player and a grade-A douchebag—threw themselves at me. But not Gambrielle. She had gotten the hint and took my confession as gospel.
“I know we’re in a psych ward, but since we’re going to be friends, I feel the need to give you the lowdown on the men of this floor. It’ll save you a lot of time, honey, trust me.” Varla quipped to Gambrielle during lunch one afternoon . Her bright blue hair was neatly tucked behind her ears, showcasing the clown make-up she’d become notorious for. Today she’d slapped on bright shades of pink and purple. I wanted to take my napkin, lean across the table, and take a slow swipe across her small face to make a point. Stabbing her fork into a small piece of watermelon, Varla turned to Gambrielle and whispered, “The only man worth having is Thorne.”
Excuse—the-fuck-outta—me?
My fork fell to my plate with a clatter, and my lips parted slightly. I shouldn’t have been pissed off at Varla’s forwardness, but I was. What the fuck, Varla?! Even if I wasn’t worth someone’s time or effort, she should’ve upheld her loyalty and presented me as a black knight, a prince, or whatever bullshit the women fantasized over these days.
Clasping my hands together under my chin, I propped my elbows on the table and took a quick look at Reyes, who was seated on the other side of Varla. He didn’t look too pleased either, but continued to chow down on his spaghetti while shooting Varla his best fuck-me-eyes every chance he could. What a trooper…
And Thorne? He had his nose buried in a crossword puzzle, oblivious to everything going on around him.
Varla jerked her head to the left, where Reyes was seated. “He has commitment issues.” Her voice was barely audible.
Gambrielle smiled at her burger. “Too afraid to commit?” she said with a chuckle.
“No, he gets too committed.” Varla threw her head back, as did Gambrielle, and they both laughed like hyenas. And yeah, a snicker or two slipped through my own mouth because I’ll admit that shit was funny.
But then Varla’s eyes flickered to me, “Laces is the direct opposite. He doesn’t believe in commitment—and even if he did, his sketchbook wouldn’t allow it.”
My eyes briefly widened so as not to draw attention to myself. I wasn’t one to get embarrassed, but even I could feel the heat building up in my cheeks as Gambrielle slapped a hand over her mouth and snorted. Yep, I was going to kill Varla and donate her make-up supply to the nearest damn clown college!
Someone snorted. Reyes. With one kick to his shin I shut that shit down real quick. He hissed through his teeth and I sliced a hand across my throat. Shut-up asshole!
“Not that I can blame Laces, though.” Varla whispered in a hush-hush voice seconds later. “His girlfriend, Lexi—“
She didn’t even have her full name out and already the red alarms were going off in my head. “Enough, Varla!” I snapped, shoving my chair back. I rose to my feet, along with Reyes. Thorne had just found Lemons in his crossword puzzle and wasn’t abandoning it for anyone.
“Oh my God—I’m so sorry Laces!” Varla quickly jumped to her feet, “I got carried away.”
I held up my palm. “Thorne!” I snapped. The entire cafeteria was now staring at our table, including Lunch- Lady Halpert. But I didn’t give a damn. I kicked Thorne’s chair and his eyes shot to me. “Let’s go!”
“I just found Minnesota.” Thorne muttered.
“Find your balls and get up.” Reyes quipped.
Gambrielle’s eyes widened as Thorne slammed his puzzle book shut and shoved his seat back with a loud screech. Rising to his feet he saluted Varla, then Gambrielle, before stomping away with me and Reyes.
The second day of my “Gambrielle Embargo”, was equally as difficult. I had yet to make peace with Varla speaking of Lexi and was on edge. Sometimes, not often, I would speak of Lexi in therapy, but never in public. She was a part of my past life, a life that broke me, and hearing Varla dangle her name out there so freely hit a serious nerve in my black soul.
So I did what any man in my position would do.
“I need alcohol. Vodka, specifically. Lots of vodka.” I murmured to Nurse Kline before recreational therapy. She was busy filling out a release form and simply nodded from behind the nurses’ station. “Is that a yes?”
“No.” She hummed. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun with little wispy strands hanging every which way. It suited her. Peeking up from the form, she tilted her head to the left and raised a perfectly groomed brow, “What do I get in return?”
I smirked. “Me.”
“I already have you.” She cooed.
I leaned against the counter and lowered my voice, “ANAL.” I had performed anal a few times in my life and the women loved it. It was usually reserved for special moments, like after getting a blow job for a solid hour straight. But this one time I was willing to make the sacrifice in exchange for getting shit-faced. Tit for tat.
Nurse Kline hummed her approval in a low groan. “As tempting as that is, I’m afraid you would tear me in two.” she said, pouting at me. “And Ken already takes care of that, so I’m going to have to pass. What else do you have to offer?”
Fuck.
Ken was her husband. At the start of our arrangement, he was going through a mid-life crisis, so things were pretty easy for us. She would suck me off, we’d have sex in the boiler room, and I would go down on her out of pity. The way I saw it a window had opened and opportunity was calling my name. That opportunity had served me well, at least until recently when Ken decided to get back in bed and ride his horse.
I sighed. “What do you need?”
Nurse Kline’s lips curved into a sadistic smile, one I knew all too well. Rising from her seat, she leaned over the counter until our faces were an inch apart. Her wintergreen tinged breath slammed into my lungs as her mischievous eyes held mine. “You’re friends with Evans, correct?”