Page 69 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
And it’s odd, because the man I was just talking to—the man chatting about naked shows—is not the man that I’m looking at right now. There’s a darkness in his eyes, strength in his shoulders, like someone stuck a rod down his back and straightened him up to his full height.
There’s a protectiveness about him.
It’s... God, I don’t even want to say it, but it’s extremely attractive.
“Don’t fucking hold her longer than normal,” Atlas says.
“I wasn’t.” Ansel winks, and Atlas catches it.
He pushes his brother to the side. “And don’t wink at her.”
“Oh... are you two an item?” Felix asks, moving his fingers between the two of us.
“No,” Atlas and I say at the same time.
“No?” Ansel asks. “Then why so protective?”
“Not protective. Just don’t be a fucking fool around her, okay?” Atlas tugs on his hair, looking irritated. “Anyway, come on, Betty.”
Come on?
Are we going somewhere?
Somewhere I don’t know about?
“Where you going?” Ansel asks. “And can I get your number? Wouldn’t mind taking you out on a date.”
Atlas pauses and turns to his brother. “She wouldn’t want to date you even if you were growing on her ass. Now get the fuck out of here.” Then he takes my hand in his, enveloping my palm, and tugs me toward the parking lot, not giving me much chance to keep up with his long strides.
Umm, okay.
What’s going on?
Because I have questions.
First of all, why are you holding my hand, sir?
Second, why are you so protective?
Third, and this one is for me, why do I like it?
When we are out of earshot, he mutters, “Where’s your car?”
I answer nervously, “Uh, the Honda, over there.”
Without another word, he pulls me toward my car and then brings me to the driver’s side before letting go of my hand. He glances over my shoulder, most likely looking for his brothers, and then I see him relax.
What was that about?
He drags his hand over his face and blows out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry. They’re idiots. I hope they didn’t say anything to offend you.”
“No . . . it was . . . it was fine.”
“Are you sure? Because I know how they can be. And Ansel held your hand longer?—”
“Really, it’s fine,” I answer.
He nods and rests his hands on his hips. “Okay. You sure?”
