Page 22 of 10 Things I Skate About You

“I’m not getting in your truck with you.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Fine,” she says, climbing in. “But I want you to drive me home.”

“I want to take you to my place and make you a nice cup of black coffee. Sober you up a little,” I tell her as I reach across her lap to buckle up her seat belt.

“Okay,” she snaps. “I hate black coffee.”

“You’ll like it when I make it.”

“Pffft.”

“Well said.”

When I climb into the driver’s seat, she’s snuggling with the drugstore teddy bear I got her and shoveling chocolate-covered cherries into her mouth, moaning. “These are so good. You want one?”

“I do.”

She holds one up at my mouth level, so I lean in and open my mouth. She stares at my lower lip, my tongue, hypnotized for a few seconds, then carefully places the whole thing in my mouth and looks away.

It is good. It’s a fucking delicious chocolate-covered cherry. I can’t wait to taste it on her tongue.

We drive home in silence. I’m thinking about all the things I want to do to her. All the different ways I can make her come to make up for ten years of her shitty boyfriend. All the ways I can show her support that don’t involve her screaming my name while having rhythmic muscle spasms in her pelvic region too.

When we pull up to my house, I can tell from her posture that she’s more alert. It’s a beautiful property. Frieda was an avid gardener, and I’ve maintained things as well as I could. It’s winter, of course, but it’s still gorgeous out front. I park in the driveway and walk around to the passenger side. She waits for me to get the door. Instead of letting me help her out, she hands me the teddy bear and box of chocolates. I lead her up the path to the front porch. I give her the bear and chocolates to hold while I open the front door, entering first and welcoming her inside.

I help her with her coat, hang it in the closet, along with mine. “If you’d like to use the restroom, the guest bathroom is right there.” I point down the hall. “You can wait for me in the living room if you’d like, while I make the coffee.”

“I shall—thank you,” she says.

“Go ahead and put on a record if you want,” I call out.

When I bring out two steaming hot mugs of single-origin Ethiopian pour-over coffee to the living room, she’s sitting onthe sofa, listening to my Debussy piano works on vinyl. She’s removed her boots. She turned on the gas fireplace. I like that. She feels at home.

I hand her the coffee mug and watch her eyes flutter shut as she inhales that gorgeous aroma. “Thank you,” she says softly. Almost demurely, even. Taking a seat next to her, I watch her blow on the liquid, inhale the steam, and then take a sip. “Mmmm. It’s good.”

“Yes, it is.”

She places her mug down on a coaster, takes my mug from me, and puts it on another coaster on the coffee table. “Did you make this coffee table?” she asks.

“I did.”

“It’s beautiful,” she muses, stroking the live edge.

I feel that in my dick.

She opens the box of chocolate-covered cherries and picks one. Turning to me on the sofa, she says, “Open your mouth.”

I do. She could be holding a pair of pliers in her hand and I’d do what she says as long as she touches me again. She raises the piece of chocolate to my lips, and this time I take a bite. The cherry syrup spills out as I chew. We lock eyes as she does exactly what I was hoping she’d do. She leans in and licks it off my chin and my lips. I try to kiss her, but she pulls back. “You confound me,” she says.

“You thrill me like no one else, Red.”

She winces, tenses up, and then lets out a little sigh, kind of like she did when I slapped her ass. Then she holds out the last half of the chocolate-covered cherry, this time for me to take it in my hand. She licks the sticky syrup off her fingers. I pop the chocolate into my mouth, and just as I’m about to suck the chocolate and cherry syrup off my thumb and forefinger, she grabs my wrist and brings my hand to her mouth. She licks the tip of my finger, sucks my thumb into her mouth.

“Jesus, Red. You are something else.”

When she opens her big crystal-blue eyes again, they are fire and ice. “I hate that I’m so attracted to you,” she says sweetly. She kisses the tip of my thumb, and I cup her face in my hand. She nuzzles into it.