Page 56 of Play With Me

“Did you drive my truck here?” I asked Has.

“Yeah, the roads are getting shitty. We should probably get going if you don’t want to get stuck here.”

Louisa was still cursing under her breath, trying to get her situation under control, and I had a goofy grin on my face watching her. Then she tucked her hands into her sleeves and pulled her sweatshirt off over her head, and the smile dropped instantly. My traitorous eyes pinged all over her—cataloguing everything that had been hidden—before I could shut them. I gritted my teeth and held in a groan.

Even with them closed, I could see her body on the back of my eyelids, like it had been burned there. The tank top she’d been wearing underneath was cut indecently low across her tits and fit tight to her small waist. Sleep-mussed hair brushed against whatever good-for-nothing bra she had on, and my dick got hard thinking about everything I couldn’t see.

I wanted to put her over my shoulder and carry her to my cave.

She caught my eye then, and I snapped my jaw shut. I propped my ankle on my knee and put my hands on my shin to hide the situation in my pants. Marisol’s father—somehow oblivious to customary boundaries between men—had politely averted his eyes when Lou took off her sweatshirt. He was laughing at me knowingly. Go fuck yourself, Delgado.

Hell, he’s goin’ easy on ye. I’d ‘ave been sprinklin’ spices in yer stupid gob n’ roastin’ ye on a spit for sittin’ there slack-jawed n’ droolin’ like an eejit.

I chuckled to myself, imagining Dad in the room with us. He’d have been on his feet and crowing, riling me up alongside Lou. They would have liked each other, for sure. Like two people who could definitely belong in one of Roald Dahl’s stories.

“Has, I probably have a hoodie or something in the back of my truck⁠—‘’

But he beat me to it, pulling one out of the bag over his shoulder.

“I got you,” he said, grinning at Louisa and tossing it to her.

“I love the smell of this shaving cream, Hassi.” She sniffed, trying to wrestle control of the post-prank power dynamic. “Smells like hot doctors.”

“It’s Barbasol, you basic bitch.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but I saw the gleam in her eye switch from annoyance to mischief. She let the corner of her mouth curl up and then touched her top lip with the tip of her tongue.

“What’s so funny now?” Has asked. Then more nervously, “Look, you deserved it. I had to get you back for scaring the shit out of me earlier.”

“Oh, I know. I just had an idea for a good follow-up. Might be too much, even for me.” She shrugged.

I was looking back and forth between them, a shit-eating grin on my face. Has had no stamina for her BS.

“Yeah? It’s not going to hurt, is it?” He fell right into her trap. “Don’t make it hurt, baby, please.”

“Physically or emotionally?” she asked innocently. “Or professionally, now that I think about it?”

Masterful.

I was staying until Christian told me to go, so Has offered to drive Louisa back. We were both surprised when she asked us, “Do you think it’s weird if I stay?” instead. We looked at each other briefly, before assuring her that it wasn’t weird at all—acting nonchalant when we were both feeling chalant as fuck.

I got up to give him a half-hug goodbye. He snorted quietly when he realized I’d just done it for an excuse to sit a reasonable distance away from Marisol’s dad.

After he took off in my truck, I had to consciously stop my brain from trying to make Louisa’s decision to stay mean more than it did. She’s being a good friend. Has seemed to have pinned a few hopes on her baking bread, and I found myself worrying about him.

I’m not the type.

It was bizarre—liking a man, envying him, pitying him, wanting to beat him, worrying about him. Complicated as fuck. Louisa was rinsing Barbasol out of her hair in the bathroom, and I felt myself itching for a smoke. I hadn’t had a cigarette in days, and suddenly my body remembered.

Louisa was walking into the waiting room, tying her wet hair up on her head, when she clocked my bouncing knee.

“I can’t go smoke. I want to be able to hold the baby when he comes." I couldn’t imagine touching a brand-new baby with cigarette smoke on my clothes and hands.

Lou’s eyes softened as she looked into mine.

“Can I distract you?” she asked. My mind went everywhere other than where she intended, but I nodded. She launched into this goofy playground song, slapping my hands around and doing these complicated high-five tricks… It was wild.

But it worked, so when Christian burst through the door with the biggest smile I’d ever seen on his face, all three of us were on our feet instantly, and I was grateful.