Fuck It (Yama Yama)

Simon sighs. “Ever feel like the universe is working against you?”

“Relax, I don’t have anywhere else I need to be.”

We can hear the moans and complaints of at least three other people, and Simon gives Toby his phone to occupy him. When he’s playing a game, he seems oblivious to all the stuff going on around him.

It’s a good thing because the man in the curtained area beside us starts to yell. “Hey! Doctor lady! Over here! I need some good drugs. What you got? Morphine? Dilaudid? Hook a guy up.”

The nurse patiently explains for the second time that he isn’t injured enough to need narcotics, and she couldn’t give them to him anyway since he’s intoxicated.

“I’m not toxicated! Hey!” he yells as she walks away. “I got Mighty Mouse on my dick!”

Simon and I both burst out laughing. “Friday night at the emergency room,” I murmur.

Toby looks up from his game. “What’s that guy yelling about?”

“He drank too much alcohol so he’s acting silly. Just ignore him,” Simon says.

“’Kay.” He goes back to his game.

Every few minutes the guy starts yelling again, the same thing over and over. “I got Mighty Mouse on my dick!”

The alcohol in my bloodstream isn’t helping me keep my composure, and every now and then a few giggles sneak out, causing Simon to grin at me.

He leans in and whispers in my ear. “Is it me or does the guy have a cartoon mouse fetish?”

Finally, the curtain opens and the nurse peeks in. “I wanted to let you know we haven’t forgotten about you. The doctor will be with you in a moment.”

I’m interrupted by the Mighty Mouse freak yelling again when I try to thank her, and she rolls her eyes, her lips twitching. “He’s telling the truth. It’s a really ugly tattoo. Not sure why he wants to show it to everyone.”

Toby chooses that moment to sneeze, and the plastic bean turned projectile flies across the room and ticks off the wall. With a smile, he looks up at us. “It came out. Can we go home now?”

The nurse loses her composure and laughs, “I’ll get the discharge papers.”

Thirty minutes later, we’re back at Simon’s place. Toby gets sent to his room to get ready for bed, but darts back out a few seconds later wearing only a pair of green Hulk underwear.

“Look, Lydia! I got green underwear too!”

My hand creeps up to cover my smile. “That’s great, buddy.”

“Are you wearing your green underwear? Can I see?”

Simon scoops him up. “For Pete’s sake, you can’t ask women—or anyone—to see their underwear.”

“Oh.” Toby twists in Simon’s arms to look at me. “Sorry.” Then he instantly looks up at Simon. “Who’s Pete?”

Simon sets him down. “Go get into bed.”

“I don’t get a story?” With the horror in his voice, you’d think he told him he was going to the dentist.

“Just one and it’ll have to be short. Go on. I’ll be in to tuck you in.”

“Good night, Toby,” I call, and he rushes off.

Stopping at his doorway, he turns and a smile lights up his face before he runs inside. “Night, Lydia!”

Simon gestures around the room. “Make yourself at home. I won’t be more than ten minutes.”

“There’s no hurry.”

With a wink, he disappears into Toby’s room.

The alcohol has pretty much worn off, and I feel nerves creeping in. What if I can’t do this? I’ve never done the whole fuck buddy thing. Are there rules? I assume not staying the night is a biggie, but isn’t there something about not kissing? Or am I thinking of hookers?

Simon emerges from Toby’s bedroom, shutting the door behind him. “He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow,” he says, sitting beside me on the couch.

Where’s my liquid courage when I need it?

“Lydia? Are you all right? It’s fine if you’ve changed your mind. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

One look into those eyes, and all doubt is erased. “Are you trying to back out?” I tease.

Simon grins and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. “Never. I’ve been picturing this since ninth grade.”

“You have not!”

“Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

Shifting on his lap, I can feel how hard he is. “I’m getting some idea.”

Then those sculpted lips are on mine and everything else ceases to exist. It’s just a feathery brush of lips at first, but that ignites a fire in the pit of my stomach. His hands cup my face, and he tilts my head, kissing me again. His lips are soft as they move over mine, and I run my tongue across them before slipping it into his mouth.

A groan rattles his throat, and his arms tighten around me as we deepen the kiss, exploring and tasting. My hands find their way to his nape, then into his hair, and a soft moan escapes me when he sucks gently on my bottom lip before we break apart.