“You know, we can skip dinner if you want? Go straight to dessert.”
She’s drunk.
Or high.
Or both.
Either way, I need to put an end to this.
“You know”—I grip her by her shoulders with my oven mitts and push her a foot away—“I think you’re hungry, maybe your blood sugar is low, because you seem to be acting a little strange. Why don’t we get you some—?”
She swats my arms away and plasters her body against mine. Fuck, her tits feel incredible against my chest and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear her nipples are hard . . . Oh wait, maybe those are mine that are hard. Either way, with her this close, something else is getting hard, and fast.
“I thought you wanted me. Come on, let’s date. Let’s do this.”
“Heh.” I laugh, a little terrified. I back up, my ass hitting the oven. I place my hands behind me, trying to get as far away as possible. But she doesn’t let me get very far. No, she pins me against the oven. “What, uh, what has gotten into you?”
“I know who hasn’t gotten into me.” She dances her fingers up my chest until they reach my face, with one bop to the nose. I’m rearing back, my hand connecting directly with the enchiladas, startling me so much I fling the dish forward. And we both watch in slow motion as the Williams Sonoma glass nine-by-thirteen dish floats through the air, smacks against the island, and falls to the ground in a mighty crash as waves of tortillas, chicken, and cheese splatter my kitchen.
“My masterpiece.” I fall to the floor, gathering the cheese and sauce in my oven mitts, scooping it back into the broken and shattered dish.
“Oh my God, what did you do?” Dottie asks, standing above me, hand to her heart.
I look over my shoulder. “What did I do? What did you do?”
“Are you saying that I was the one who ruined dinner?”
I stand tall, enchilada sauce dripping off my oven mitts. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“How dare you blame me for your clumsiness.” She folds her arms over her chest. “I would hate to see how you perform in bed after this fiasco.”
Eh, what? Come again. Fiasco? Does she not realize she’s the reason all this happened? Because she apparently can’t keep her panties on long enough to enjoy a homecooked meal.
“Excuse me, but you’re the one trying to stroke my dick before dinner is served. I was just trying to give you a chance to sober up.”
“Sober up?”
“Yeah.” I motion to her body. “Isn’t that why you’re acting weird? You’re high or drunk. One of the two.” I wince. “Both?”
“I am not drunk or high.”
“Oh.” I pat her on the shoulder. “Stressed then. I get it, when I’m stressed I do weird things too.”
“How am I being weird?” she asks, growing angry.
“Well, for one, you wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole about ten hours ago, but now you’re ready to shove your hand down my pants. Seems odd. Also, you’re being nice to me, offering up smiles and hitting on me. You just don’t flip a switch like that. So tell me, what’s this all really about?”
Her eyes search mine as she takes a step back, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip. “This was a bad idea. I’m going to go.”
“So you’re just going to leave me like this?” I call out, dinner dripping down my jeans.
“The plants need me. Keep the wine.” Without another word, she sprints to the door and lets herself out.
The plants need me?
Can someone explain to me what the hell occurred tonight? Because I’m confused as fuck.
“Are you alone?” I whisper into the phone, even though I don’t need to.
“Why are you whispering?” Knox asks.
“I don’t know,” I continue to whisper. “I just need to talk to you, and I can’t have your baby mama listening in.”
“Dude, I told you, it’s okay to use KY Jelly when jacking off.”
“It’s not about that.” For fuck’s sake, one drunk conversation about lube and he’s never let me live it down. “Just tell me you’re alone.”
“I’m alone. Emory’s in town with my mom right now. What’s up?”
Sighing, I fling my body back on my bed, ready to gab. “I had the weirdest fucking night last night.”
“Okay, what happened?”
Tugging on the short strands of my hair, I try to explain everything from the beginning. “Long story short, I’ve been trying to get to know Dottie.”
“Ah, good luck with that. Dottie is very particular about every aspect of her life. Not warm and fuzzy when you first meet her, that one.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. I’m still surprised we didn’t hang out in college.”
“She was around. We often hung with her.”
“Yeah, that’s what she said.” Weird. “Anyway. So yesterday morning, I told her in a not so subtle way that she was having dinner with me.”
Knox roars with laughter. “And how did she take that?”
“Not well at the time, but I convinced her with my passionate ways.”
“Jesus,” he mutters softly.
“And I honestly didn’t think she was going to show up, but when she did, she was . . . different.”
“Different how?”
“Well, other times I’ve been around her, she’s had this constant sneer toward me.”
“Ah, yes, I feel the same way, but continue.”
Such a jackass.
“There was no sneer, not even close to one. She smiled at me and then . . . she touched me.”
“Oh my God, no. Don’t tell me that. My ears are virginal. She touched you. Wait while I fan myself.”
I pause.
“Your sarcasm isn’t needed right now. I’m feeling odd and I need someone to talk to about it.”
“You know I hate this feelings shit.”
“And you know I need it, so be a goddamn friend and let me unload.” He groans but stays silent, letting me continue. “She was up in my business. Telling me she wanted me. Gripping my inner thigh, almost a graze to my dick, and then in the kitchen when I was taking the enchiladas out of the oven, she started mauling my chest with her hands. I was so caught off guard that I ended up spilling the entire dinner all over the floor.”
“Oh shit, did you cry?”
“No, I didn’t cry.” Internally I did. “But she was acting so strange that I asked if she was high or drunk.”
“I’m going to guess that didn’t go over well.”
“Nope, after that she told me your plants needed her and bolted.”
Knox chuckles and then exhales. “Yeah, that doesn’t sound like Dottie at all. She’s usually calm and collected. Maybe you’ve messed with her head a bit. She has a big deal she’s trying to close right now, so maybe that’s where all this is coming from. I don’t know, man, maybe lay off for a bit, at least until the deal is closed.”
“See, I offered up the suggestion that maybe she was stressed, and she didn’t seem to care for that.”