Page 78 of So This Is War

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No. No. No.

Focus.

Bunny with cotton tail.

Wild berries in brilliant hues of red.

Singsonging birds with white chests.

Chests . . .

Tits.

Wylie’s tits bouncing.

NO!

No bouncing tits in the meadow.

Tits not allowed.

Or nipples.

Or any breasts.

Just woodland creatures that talk and sing little ditties like . . .we are the woodland creatures of whispering pines. We like to sing and dance to help the boner decline . . .

“We are the woodland creatures?—”

Knock. Knock.

I shoot up off my bed as Wylie says, “Uh, everything okay in here?”

“Peachy!” I squeak out. “Grand. On the up and up. No help needed.”

“Are you sure? Because it seems like something’s bothering you.”

You!

You are bothering me, you beautiful, magnificent, bologna-eating wench.

“Nope. Everything is wonderful. Loving life.” I offer her a thumbs-up even though I’m pretty sure she wasn’t born with X-ray vision and can’t see me. “Life is a ball of fun.”

I stand from the bed and stare down at my tented joggers. This is not going to do. I can’t go to Café Peppermint with my dick leading the way. They’ll never let me return. So I grab a pair of jeans from my closet and slip off my joggers, say a quick hello to my erection—looking painful, my guy—and slip my jeans on, sliding my dick carefully against the more restrictive fabric.

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” she asks.

For the love of God, woman, leave me alone!

I stare down at my dick and how it’s protruding against the jeans. Fuck.

I glance around my closet, looking for something, anything to help cover up, and that’s when I see one of my dress shirts. Untucked, it will cover up just enough.

So I tear my current shirt off and slip a black dress shirt on. I fluff it over my dick, then look at myself in the floor-length mirror. I turn to the side, then the other side.

Yup, I think that works.

“Levi?”

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