Page 6 of Love and Leashes
“Pizza, but only if you act like a rational human being and don’t put mushrooms on it.” He visibly shudders and I roll my eyes.
“There’s nothing wrong with mushrooms.”
“They grow underground, covered in shit, and some of them look like dicks. Everything is wrong with mushrooms,” he deadpans.
“Just because you can’t appreciate the joy of mushrooms doesn’t make them wrong,” I reply as I take two beers out of the fridge and hand him one. “But fine, tonight, because it’s your first night here, no mushrooms.”
“Thank you.”
We clink our beers together and drink. A part of me marvels at just how easy it is between us, despite not spending as much time together in recent years, thanks to his marriage. This feels similar to high school and college when we would study together with pizza — and back then, pop instead of beer. There was never any awkwardness between us, no sexual tension to navigate. This is so familiar, yet also different. There’s a crackle of energy in the air that has never been there before.
I quickly drink down my beer and avoid thinking about it.
A couple of hours later, my stomach is full of pizza, and my fridge is empty of beer. Jensen and I are sprawled out on my couch, our heads at opposite ends and our feet sort of tangled in the middle. He can’t stop laughing about my descriptions of Mila’s cookie baking disasters, which weren’t all that funny, but the alcohol running through our systems makes it hilarious.
“So when are you going to put yourself out there and try to meet someone? I’m sure the ladies of Westport are ready for you to dazzle them.”Oh God.Why did I just say that? I can feel my face flushing with embarrassment the second the words leave my mouth.
Jensen scoffs, oblivious to my sudden discomfort. “I’m not. I don’t need to date. I just need to find an apartment, settle in at work, and get my life back on track after hurricane Tatyana.”
“Nah, come on, you need to get out there and meet some new people.”
Stop! Abort! Why the hell am I pushing this?Sober Kelly wouldn’t have pushed the whole dating thing, that’s for sure, but drunk Kelly has less of a filter than the three-month-old Brita water pitcher in the back of my fridge. Apparently, I have an incessant need to poke at all the awkward things. Drunk Kelly is also a total masochist. I don’twantJensen to find a girlfriend, do I?
“Whatever. I have you and I have Oliver. If my best friend and my dog can’t help me meet new people, then I’m destined to be alone,” Jensen says dramatically. He peers into the neck of his beer bottle. “My drink’s empty. We need more.”
“Umm, there’s no more beer, we drank it all.”
Jensen hops up from the couch. “Got any juice?”
“Not a clue,” is my cheerful reply. He just laughs and makes his way to the kitchen where I hear him rummaging around for a few minutes.
When he returns, his arms are full of two glasses with ice in them, a bottle of rum, and a bottle of tropical fruit juice I guess I had somewhere. My eyebrows lift. “Planning a party or something?”
“Yep, a party for two.”
“You know rum and juice is not a good combo for me…” I caution.
“The headache will be worth it, I promise.” Jensen turns what I call his puppy-dog eyes on me. Those eyes convinced me to go along with all kinds of stupid things when we were younger, from trying to sneak into a hockey game, to getting me to bake cookies for him way too often. “Nuh uh, no way, buddy. Not even that look is gonna get me to drink rum and juice.”
“Come on, Kell, please? I’ll let you…” His voice trails off, then his entire face twists into a grimace. “Fine, I’ll let you put up a profile for me on a singles site. Happy?”
Well, shit. No getting out of it now, I guess. I sit up and nod confidently. Or, at least, as confidently as I can. “Yes. Very. We’ll make you sound good, I promise.”
“I’m so gonna regret this,” he groans as I grab my laptop off the coffee table and open it up to one of the more popular dating sites.
“Here we go. This one, Left for Love, has a mobile app, so you can install it on your phone and look for women from anywhere.”
“Great,” comes his sarcastic reply.
I quickly set up his account, but keep the screen turned away when I upload a photo, despite his protests. I choose a recent one he sent me, one that I secretly drooled over — just once, I swear — and then it’s time to write his short description.
“Hmm. This is our time to be creative. Let’s see. Oh, I know!Dog Dad seeks human companion for long walks and cuddles on the couch. Must be comfortable with fur on clothing. Cat lovers need not apply.”
“Are you serious right now?” Jensen shouts as I break out in laughter. Oliver comes sauntering in from somewhere and hops up on the couch between us, resting his head on my lap.
“Yep, totally serious. See? Look at how sad he is. Oliver needs a mommy.”
“He fucking does not,” Jensen groans. “He’s got his crazy Auntie Kelly. That’s good enough.”
