Fallout (Crank 3)

my hand, programs the correct

sequence. As she returns my

cell, she slinks up against me.

Kisses me. Hope you had fun.

“Fun” isn’t exactly the word

I would use. “Yeah, sure.

Thanks a lot. I have to go, okay?”

She pouts at my abruptness,

but doesn’t argue. Okay. You

can call me any time, Hunter.

“Good to know. Bye now.”

I turn on my heel, hurry off,

fingers crossed she doesn’t follow.

ALMOST TALENT SHOW TIME

I make my way toward the main

stage, checking out every male

face I see. Some of those guys

probably think I’m gay. Sorry,

dudes. Not looking to get laid.

Already did that. Sort of, anyway.

I chug down guilt. Gallons

and gallons of guilt. Why did

I just do that? Not like I needed

it, couldn’t get that, and better,

from my Nikki. I’m a total

two-timing jerk. And why?

Okay, Leah would tempt most

any guy with a working pecker.

But you don’t have to give in

to temptation, not even bodacious-