Page 23 of Stuck with You
I’m shocked. “You haven’t been with anyone else?” I’m astonished by this revelation.
He shakes his head. “No one.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” I still can’t believe it. “You’re hot and charming, and rich, and fuck, when you wear those suits, I just want to jump you. I’m sure the ladies at work—”
He’s smiling when he cuts me off. “Yeah, the ladies are interested, Corrie. But I’m not. It’s just you for me, Corrie. It’s always been just you.”
Now I feel really bad about the underwear. I look away, not able to face him. “Well, I don’t have an STD either,” I reassure him. “So it has to be something else.”
We both sit in silence for a long beat, staring off into the distance.
“Hmmm… maybe jogger’s itch,” I suggest. “Is that a thing?”
“Maybe,” he says. “I’ll Google it.” He grabs his phone with a wince, a hand still rubbing his groin. It is kind of funny, I admit. But I’m filled with guilt.
It’s a few hours later and Jacob is about to lose it. He’s in obvious discomfort. “It’s not jogger’s itch or jock itch,” he says. “It’s red, but no circles. And it came on so rapidly,” he goes on, rubbing at his eyes. “Now it’s in my eye too. My eye is burning.”
Oh crap.
“I’ve Googled for over an hour, and I can’t figure it out,” he says, at a loss. “I think I’ve got some kind of weird disease. I should go to the clinic.”
“No….” I’m quick to say. “No need to overreact.”
“Well, doesn’t hurt to check, does it. Who the hell knows what this is. I could be dying for all I know.”
This has officially gone too far. I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m sorry,” I finally say out loud.
“Sorry about what?” he asks, rubbing at his eye.
“I may have…” I falter a bit before forging ahead. “I may have… rubbed your underwear with a Carolina Reaper pepper.”
“What?!”
I wince. “I was just trying to get back at you… for the bear sound thing.” A completely justified prank, in my opinion.
His jaw drops to the floor. “Wait… what? Where did you get a Carolina Reeper?”
I offer him an apologetic smile. “The neighbor gave me one a few days ago. She grows them.”
He shakes his head. “You’re the devil, Corrie,” he says and storms off to the washroom.
Finally, a laugh escapes me. I got him good.
