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Leo
Track 3: “Hot Hot Hot” by Buster Poindexter
Sigmund emerged from the shower wearing only a towel.
He looked around. “Where’s the redhead?”
“She left,” I muttered.
“Is that why you have such a long face?”
“You’ll be happy to know I finally know how you feel.”
“Why’s that?”
“I got rejected.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“Yep.”
“That’s literally the first time in your life a woman has turned you down, isn’t it?” He patted me hard on the shoulder, enjoying this a bit too much. “Well, welcome to the club, mate. We serve blue balls and stale beer in our neck of the woods.”
“Brilliant.”
Though I was doing my best to take it in stride, Felicity turning me down did hurt a bit. And it wasn’t about being rejected. I was genuinely disappointed to not spend more time with her. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d yearned to know more about a girl, yearned to count every fucking freckle on her body.
Sigmund shook me out of my thoughts. “I had a feeling that for some bizarre reason you fancied her and might go in for the kill, but I never imagined she’d turn you down.”
“Well, maybe that was a smart decision on her part.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said. “What’s the point of messing around with someone like that?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped. “Someone like that?”
“Well, you know after speaking to her that she’s not the type who’s only interested in shagging. She’s too serious for that. So what’s the point of getting to know her, or taking her out? It can never go anywhere.”
“You can’t exactly choose who you fancy, Sigmund, even if that person doesn’t fit perfectly into the stifling box that is my life.”
“She’s the opposite of anything that fits, actually.”
“That’s precisely why I like her.”
“And your dick is probably even harder for her now that she’s turned you down.”
I couldn’t deny that her rejection made me want her more. A chase was always arousing. Yet Felicity Dunleavy didn’t care to be chased by me. Rather than making up an excuse, she’d very directly told me she wasn’t interested.
“Anyway…” He laughed. “Now your children won’t end up looking like they belong to Ed Sheeran.” He chuckled. “We can find you a replacement for her tonight, if you want to come out with me.”
Frustrated, I ran my hand through my hair. “Not interested in that right now.”
“Mate, she’s not even a ten. What are you worried about?”
“Are you serious?”
“She’s plain. Okay, well, she’s fit in her own way, I suppose.”
“She’s naturally beautiful. Not like the made-up women back home.”
“I’ll be more than happy to take some of those girls off your hands when we get back, since you don’t seem to appreciate them.” He sighed. “Seriously, cousin, I think you should forget about the F-word and come out with me and Shiva tonight.”
“Shiva?”
“The Persian girl I met on the app.”
“Oh…yeah.”
“Maybe she has a friend.”
No way was I in the mood for that. “I’m feeling kind of knackered. I think I’ll stay in.”
“Probably better for me anyway,” he said. “No chance of you stealing my thunder.”
After Sigmund took the car to drive to Providence, I decided to pay my mum a long-overdue phone call. I’d been avoiding her because she kept insisting on an exact date for my return. We had yet to buy our tickets home.
After three rings, my mother answered. “Well, hello, love. I thought I might never hear from you again. It’s late here. Is everything okay?”
I lay back on the couch. “Everything is fine, Mother. Sorry, I forgot the time. Things have been a little hectic.”
“Too much lying around on the beach wasting precious time away?”
“This is far from a waste. My mind is ten times clearer than when I left.”
“Well, your father is certainly more supportive of this whole thing than I am. I’m just happy it’s halfway over with, and that come September I’ll be getting my son back.”
The thought of returning home made my stomach a bit sick. “How’s Dad feeling?”
My father had been battling cancer for several years. He was always certain that one of these days he’d succumb to it. Prior to my trip, he’d made me promise I would carry on our family name. Since I was his only child, if I were not to marry and procreate, the Covington name would end with me. He’d always indicated he wished to see me married with a child before he died. No pressure or anything.
“Dad’s been pretty good lately,” my mother reported.
“I’m happy to hear that.”
“Do you want to talk to him?”
“Not if he’s resting. Just tell him I love him.”
“He’s eager to have you back as well. I think not having this time to train you on the ins and outs of the business is stressful for him.”
“That’s not what he expressed to me the last time we spoke. I think it’s stressful for you.”