It’s only been a week, but I can’t remember a time when Banjo wasn’t a part of our lives. I say our lives because the girl I love is practically living with me and I couldn’t be happier. I got the girl of my dreams, an awesome dog––life is good.
“––The one you b-bought him t-the other day is plenty.”
I glance up for my laptop where I’m in the process of ordering my boy another custom-made orthopedic bed, and take her in. “Come here.” Her lips, red from our make-out session a short while ago, lift into a shy smile. I did that, put a smile on her face, filled her big brown eyes with love. And I’m not embarrassed to say it’s the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.
She comes around the counter, to where I’m seated on the stool, and steps between my legs. I cup her absolutely perfect ass and plant a kiss on the freckles between her breasts. The love I have for Dora’s ass runs a close second to her heart which runs a close first to her breast. Go ahead and makes sense of that if you can.
“What do you think, B? You need an orthopedic bed in every room? The Cat Lady says you don’t.”
Stretched out on my couch, he picks his head up and stares at us. That is one happy freaking dog.
“Banjo says he’d like another.”
“Banjo s-spends m-most of his time on the couch with you.”
“So do you, babe, but I don’t hear any complaints from him.”
Grinning, she plants a big kiss on me and I take advantage of it.
Life is good. I’m not saying that lightly. Life is damn good lately. There’s nothing like love to make everything else that’s semi-shitty look better. The only dark spot is that we haven’t heard from Reagan.
“Hey, no funny business in front of the kids,” Cole says, walking in with his bike helmet in one hand and his backpack in the other. He drops both at the edge of the living room and goes over to the couch to pet Banjo.
The Petermans love my dude as much as Dora and I do. Which means he’s getting more TLC than any one dog needs. Wrapping my arm around Dora’s waist, I pull her closer.
“Are you hungry?” she asks Cole while he goes to the fridge and pulls out a beer. “W-We have a couple of extra steaks.”
“Starving,” he tells her as he grabs a bottle opener from the drawer, pops the top off, and takes a log pull.
“I’ll throw them on the g-grill in a few.”
“Hey, D––” Tipping his chin, he leans back against the counter. “Tommy Lau called––you know that friend of mine at Stanford. He said they’re gonna have some sick swells up at Mavs this weekend. Storm’s coming in. You up for it?”
My interest immediately perks up and pays attention. Cole’s eyes dart over to Dora. A flash of guilt crosses his face but I may be reading too much into it.
“Driving up for the day, right? Because I have Banjo––”
“Yeah, we can leave by 3 a.m. on Saturday and be back by midnight.”
“Babe, you mind watching him for the day?” When I don’t get an answer, I glance up at Dora and find her staring back blankly. “Do you mind watching him? You can invite the girls over if you want.”
“I don’t mind.”
I can almost taste the saltwater and feel the adrenaline jacking into my veins.
“Cool. Let’s smash it.”
Yeah, life is good.
Dora
“Don’t go,” I mumble.
All week I’ve kept my mouth shut. All week I’ve had to talk myself out of saying my piece because I don’t want be that girl. The one who holds the person she loves back from doing what he or she loves. But this is crazy. This is beyond wild. It’s dangerous.
“I c-checked…they’re saying t-t-twenty foot waves.”
He glances up from the bag he’s packing and stares at me, his expression careful. Like he’s trying not to give anything away.
“I’m gonna be fine, babe.” He chuckles. It rings hollow and a little bit nervous. “You know I’ve done this before.”
“I have a b-bad feeling about this…please don’t go.”
Hands on his hips, the ubiquitous basketball shorts pushed low to expose the band of his underwear and the v that drives me to distraction every time he flashes it, he takes me in.
Meanwhile, I patiently wait for him to answer sitting on his bed crosslegged. This is the first disagreement we’ve had and it can go either way. God knows neither one of us is an expert on relationships. The last one Dallas was in was basically criminal child endangerment––if not outright pedophilia––and I’ve never been in one. We’re bound to screw this up at some point.
Breaking the stalemate, he crawls on the bed and pushes me down on my back. Up on his elbows, we’re eye-to-eye. Every time this happens I get a strange feeling of completeness that I’ve never known before. Mentally, he gets me in a way I can’t even articulate. Physically, we’re on another level.