Page 104 of Best Served Cold

“Like, I like girls. I’ve been with girls and I enjoyed it. But I never wanted more with them. And most of the time it’s easier to just not than it is to try and find someone who gets that I don’t want more than a night, or whatever. So lots of days I don’t really want anyone because it’s not worth the drama. But I want you. And we’re nothing but drama. So am I aro? Am I bi? Maybe I’m Zanesexual.” He dissolved into giggles.

“Not sure that’s a thing.” I fought back my own smile.

The greedy bastard in me wanted him to keep talking so I could finally understand what made him tick, but he wasn’t in his right mind. The proper thing to do would be to shut this conversation down until he was sober.

“Should be. But, like, sex is fun. It feels good. But it’s still meh. Or it was. Maybe I’m a bottom? Or maybe I should’ve been looking for a Domme. But that wouldn’t explain why I loved it so much when you fucked me. I don’t know. I have no goddamn clue what I am or what I want. I just know I liked it when you fucked me and I wanna do it again.”

“You do?”

“My mouth really needs to shut the fuck up,” he mumbled, burying his face in his hands. “Ugh. Booze is like a truth serum for me. You think weed makes me trauma-dump? Why do you think I stopped drinking in front of people?”

“You want to fuck again?” I asked, not able to let that go.

“Yeah. It felt good.” He flicked his gaze to mine. “Did you like it?”

I cleared my throat. “I liked it.”

That was an understatement, but he didn’t seem to mind my lack of adjectives. A blush crept over his cheeks and turned his neck pink.

He dropped his eyes to his lap.

“How are you feeling?” I asked to break the silence.

“Drunk.” He half snorted, half chuckled. “My head feels weird.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Where are we?” He craned his neck and peered out the window.

“About a block from your place.”

“Really?” He pressed his forehead against the glass. “I don’t recognize it.”

“We’re taking a back route. Less traffic.”

“’Kay.” He leaned back against the seat. “Wait.”

I glanced at him.

“You worked tonight.”

“I did.” I turned on my signal light to pull into the lot behind his building. “Do you have visitors’ parking?”

“Near the back doors. Yellow posts. Those.”

I found the area he was talking about. One spot open, thank fuck.

“But how are you here if you’re at work?” he asked, confused.

I pulled into the empty spot. “I’m obviously not at work if I’m here.”

“You left work for me?” He blinked rapidly, like he was trying to clear his vision.

I nodded.

“Why?”

“Because you needed me to. We were worried about you.”

---