He grins up at me from the floor. “Absolutely nothing, dear heart. I’m just going to make sure this is a summer you never forget. Trust me, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t know what hit you. And neither will he.”
Rather than murdering him, I leave him there on the floor. It seems easier.
18. Where Tyson Gets Screwed at His Own Birthday Party (And Not in a Good Way)
IT MIGHT have seemed easier earlier, but by the time the party starts, I’m pretty sure I’m starting to understand why murder seems ridiculously easy. I just need to find a way not to get caught. I have the brain power so I should be able to figure it out. A vat of acid should do the job nicely.
To say that lunch with Dominic was awkward is an understatement.
The car ride over to the restaurant was done in a heavy silence punctuated by half-hysterical attempts at conversation, with such gems coming from me such as “So, what did you think of the sports game on TV last night? I sure enjoyed when the half forward made a basket!” And “Oh, look! That bus bench has a sign for a personal injury attorney that says he only takes 23 percent! How positively fortuitous!”
Dominic, ever the conversationalist, remained as stoic as ever, grunting his responses as opposed to using his mouth for what it was made for (this, of course, led to a line of thinking that I had no right or reason to think about involving his mouth, my mouth, and a whole lot of suction. These thoughts were immediately erased when I found myself with a burgeoning erection. Have you ever gotten half a hard-on when you can’t seem to stop talking about sports and lawyers? I have. It’s awkward).
Besides, I scolded myself, I wasn’t supposed to be thinking of him in any way other than an off-limits friend I hadn’t seen in a very long time who I’d wronged and had just made things kind of right with again. That simple.
But for whatever reason, I couldn’t get over the guilt I felt at having him walk in and seeing Corey (that rat bastard!) kissing me. I told myself it was nothing. I told myself it didn’t matter. I told myself Dominic had plenty more to worry about than seeing his old friend kiss another boy. And I realized how ridiculous that thought was as soon as I had it.
So lunch occurred, and I barely remember what the food tasted like, much less what I ordered. Everything was too bright, too shiny, and I couldn’t focus on a damn thing. For what it’s worth, Dom seemed distracted, too, and though I wondered at it, I didn’t think it was my place to ask.
Conversation was stilted, the silences stretching too long, both of us starting to speak at the same time, then stopping, laughing nervously as we both motioned for each other to speak, only to have the silence return even longer than the time before.
And for the life of me, I couldn’t quite stop staring at his mouth.
Creepy, right? Seriously.
I watched as a noodle disappeared between his lips and thought, I really need to look somewhere else. But then he darted his tongue out to get a bit of butter sauce and apparently my body thought that was the most erotic thing to have ever have happened in human existence, and I spilled my water all over the table as my hand jerked into the glass, knocking it over. I’m pretty sure everyone in the restaurant turned and stared at me and wondered why the obviously mentally deficient child was babbling and trying to mop up the table with his shirt.
And then he asked it. The jerk.
“You and Corey, huh?” he said in an off-handed tone.
I gaped at him, suddenly and without warning unable to form any kind of coherent sentence. Instead, I said, “Gah?”
He nodded. “You guys look… nice… together.”
“Guh? Gah?”
“I’m happy for you, Tyson. I really am. I hope he treats you right.”
“We’re….” I stopped and cleared my throat. “He’s not… I don’t…. Guh?” I stopped before my eloquence could contribute any more to the human race than it already had.
“Not what?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I muttered.
“Oh,” Dominic said. “Fuck buddy, then?”
It’s probably good thing I wasn’t attempting to eat anymore, because I’m pretty sure I would have choked to death right at that moment. “You said ‘fuck’!”
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “I guess I did.”
“You never say ‘fuck’!”
“Could you not shout that, please? People are starting to stare. Again.”
“You can’t curse,” I hissed at him, barely lowering my voice.
“Why not? Last time I checked, I was of an age where I can say what I want.”