American Honey

“Are you going to do it?”

Scarlett cuts in, “You mean are you going to do him again.”

Chapter 5

I Just Want Lunch

“Going to lunch, Tommie, want anything?” I ask.

“Yeah, grab me the special.”

“Be back in fifteen and by fifteen I mean an hour,” I holler over my shoulder.

It’s a daily routine. I go get us lunch and stay longer than needed reading my current book while the food gets cold and soggy. Tommie doesn’t bitch, and I get my kicks. Well, I did get my kicks the night before with Finn. Now any sex scene I read seems stale and unbelievable. What we did was nothing spectacular like stand on your head and get it in every hole, yet it was ten folds that.

Something reached deep down in my soul and left a beautiful scar. I let Finn see and feel every part of me. The sensation of his hand gliding up my prosthetic and then onto my flesh is something I will never forget. I know Scarlett has seen my leg with and without the prosthetic on it, but never touched it or even asked to. Finn didn’t ask he just simply owned me. Every single ounce of me. He took it. I find myself being pissed off at him. It has been days since his dog has been neutered, the last time he’s seen me. His dog’s incisions have had time to heal properly, yet he has left me with a seeping open wound that finds itself festering day after day.

“Two turkey avocado subs hot and one order of curly fries.”

“Got it, Tess. How’s Tommie,” the older cashier asks.

If she tells me one more time how Tommie saved her fucking cat, I may be forced to poke myself in the eyes with needles. You’d think ‘ol Tommie gave the cat mouth to mouth saving it from spending the rest of its eight lives in hell. No, she simply doctored it with antibiotics.

“She’s great,” I reply, trying to mask all horror from my face.

Simply, cat people creep me the fuck out.

I nestle into a little corner with my mini iPad and Lyric. Yes, Lyric is my current book boyfriend of the day. It’s quite the perfect dark read for me. The last few reads have put me to sleep. Lyric is the last shot for me before I turn to crime thrillers. Who knows, I may just be the next legendary serial killer with a gimpy run. My getaway car better rival that of Batman’s to mask my limp. My last thought causes me to giggle out loud.

“Your book that funny?” A familiar voice comes.

Looking up, I see him. Finn, standing before me. Just like I remember from before. I immediately try to hide my leg, which holds all my open scars, under the table and then remember he’s been the only one to touch me.

“Can I have a seat?” He asks.

“No,” I quickly answer.

Finn stares with no response.

“What do you want from me? I surrender. You had me. Used me. Saw all of me. What else do you fucking want from me? I have no more to give.”

Finn throws his hands up in the air. “I just want lunch and this is the only table with an open seat. Can I?”

Looking around the room, I notice too quickly he’s absolutely right. Fuck! I think he wants me again and babies and the house, but the man just wants a fucking seat at the best deli in town. Got it, filed.

“Yeah, whatever,” I reply.

Finn takes a seat, just like he would with any BFF he’s known for years. Nothing like the girl he just ran his tongue all over days ago or made moan with pleasure. Nope. Just like any good old pal who was my reading buddy in first grade.

“Whatcha doing?” He asks.

I want to respond, “About to cream my pants because I can smell you and want to reach out and ravage you.”

Instead, I reply, “What the fuck do you think I’m doing?”

“Sitting.”

“You’re an asshole,” I hiss.