Page 77 of So This Is War

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No, this is a nightmare. Someone punch me. Poke me. Stick a chopstick right up my dick hole.

Pull me away from this disaster I’m living because, oh my fucking God, the girl of my absolute dreams, the one that’s been persistent in my mind for a year, the girl who could do no wrong, she likes bologna.

No, not like . . . loves.

LOVES!

Actual tears spring to my eyes as panic races through me.

I’m going to lose it. I have two choices, ask her to open her mouth so I can fuck it, right here, right now—possibly while she eats a bologna sandwich—or just run.

Run as far away as I can run.

I choose the latter.

“Excuse me,” I say as I bow my head in dismissal and sprint down the hallway straight to my bedroom, where I slam the door and fling myself onto the bed.

I grab my pillow, bury my head against it, and scream again, muffling myself better this time.

After a few kicks to the mattress, punches, and “why mes,” I snatch my phone from the nightstand and pull up a text thread.

Can’t do this alone. Nope.

Need help.

Now.

Because . . . fuck me, she likes bologna.

She loves it.

I’ve never met another soul who likes bologna. And lo and behold, the woman of my dreams has been stealing my goddamn deli meat right from under me. How did I not know? How did I not see her? How did I not sniff out the evidence like a goddamn bloodhound searching the trail?

I’ve lost my touch.

A curvy woman with red hair has blinded me.

And now, with my dick standing at full mast, I realize one thing. There is no way in hell I’m going to make it through this assignment without reinforcements.

It pains me, but I need help.

Levi:URGENT. CODE RED. DEFCON 1. PLEASE JESUS, HELP ME! I don’t care what you’re doing, drop everything and meet me at Café Peppermint in fifteen minutes. Drinks and snacks are on me. Tell NO ONE!

I set my phone down and take a few deep breaths as my cock strains against my pants.

Whispering meadows.

Babbling brooks.

Woodland creatures.

Deep breaths . . . that’s it.

Fluttering branches.

Cotton-candy skies.

Wylie eating bologna.

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