Page 66 of Bride of Choice

Taking a moment to think about it, I admitted, “I get him. I mean, I feel like I do. The bits he actually lets me see, beneath the bullshit, that stuff, I dunno, I like it. I get it. In a way, I see that same kinda walled off person in me, a kindred spirit kind of thing.” Frowning, blowing out a long breath, I went on, “We’ve both been through a lotta shit, and neither of us came out unscathed by it.” Swirling my spoon around in my bowl, I figured, fuck it, why not? I’ve already spilled my guts to him once already. “I can be myself around him and he doesn’t go running away screaming. He likes my prickly bits. We’re both… broken.”

“Goot things,” he agreed softly. “But Rek dummy,” he rumblingly added.

“He is,” I said easily, “but so am I sometimes.”

A snort of a laugh left him. “Jo no’ dummy. No’ like Rek.”

A smirk tipped the corner of my mouth. “I’m my own special kind of stupid, there’s no denying that, you just haven’t witnessed it personally yet. You know, unless tangling with Dougie for funsies counts.” I got a laugh out of him for that. “I could tell you some stories that would make the hair fall off your ear tips, bud.”

Smothering a smile, he watched as I picked at my bread. “Poop eats stupid,” he said suddenly.

Debating on whether I should explain that ish or tease him back, I dipped my bread in my stew and then pointed it at him. “Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, Lassie.” With an overdone wink, I took a huge bite out of my bread.

Kooky almost choked on the big spoonful of stew he’d just stuffed into his fanged maw. “No Lassie. No eats poop,” he got out on a barked out laugh.

“Sure I do.” Trying to look serious, I ruined it, losing the battle holding back my laughter as he shook his head at the idea.

“Jo no like germs,” he pointed out. “No put germs in mouth.” Tapping his nose, then his ear, he let me know he was well aware of some of my more obvious eccentricities, were one actually paying that much attention to me, and apparently he has been.

“I could eat poop,” I huffed out belligerently. “You don’t know me.”

Kooky chortled his ass off at the idea.

I kept on. Of course I did. I felt like I had some kind of asinine point to prove. “How would you know? Did you not just say I do? You barely know me, bub. I could totally eat turdlets, Lassie. Isn’t that the rumor going around? I’m Poop girl.”

“No eats poop. I not Lassie. Lassie dog.” He didn’t even question it, shaking his head as he mopped up the last of his stew with his bread. Bringing it up was his way of saying it was all bullshit and he knew it, as he has probably assumed many of the other rumors I’ve cultivated were, so quit fronting.

“How can you be so sure, though? You were pretty fast to tease me about it.” My lips pursed and my eyes narrowed, but honestly I was having the most fun I’ve had in a nice long while just sitting here and having this back and forth with him. I felt like we were on equal footing.

This odd, almost flirty tit for tat, tease you because I can kinda fun made me miss the good times with Rek, my lightly teasing back and forths with Gopher, but this… it was different with Kooky. I felt exposed, for sure, but there was something comforting as I sat here, knowing I’d laid myself bare to him just the either night, all the good the bad, the ugly, and he’d stayed. He was here, sat across from me and teasing me about the Poop girl rumors lightheartedly.

This— I really needed more of it in my life.

“Where Jo go?” Scooting his bowl off to the side of him, he rested his chin in his hands, elbows on the table, and stared at me.

“Thinking. Lost in thought.” Tapping the end of his nose with my spoon, I grinned. “Glad you’re here for me to torture. Whatever would I do with just lil ol’ me for company?”

Licking my spoon, I carefully turned it and waggled it at him. Smiling to myself as he watched me, curious, I balanced it on the tip of his nose, then stood, leaving him sitting there, going cross-eyed trying to eye it, and walked to the sink to put my dishes in the wash bin on the counter behind him.

“Hoh.” Standing, spoon still balanced on his nose, he placed his dishes into the bin. His grin made me think of a proud little boy as he pointed at the spoon still dangling from his schnoz.

“Show off,” I taunted, turning to walk to my belongings and start rifling through them, to turn at the last moment and poke him in the belly, causing him to softly, “Ack,” and drop his spoon.

“Heh.” It was impossible not to grin like an idiot but luckily I was facing away from him.

Huffs and puffs sounded from behind me. “Awwww! No faired! Cheetahs!”

Turning to him in surprise, I managed to choke out as I died laughing, “Cheetahs?”

“Cheetahs,” he said more insistently, gesturing shortly between us. “Jo cheetahs.”

“Cheater,” I laughingly corrected, shaking my head at the frown that took over his grumpy mug. “A cheetah is a big jungle cat.”

A grunt of an Oh left him as he trailed behind me, then, “What junglal? Rothy say cat small, baby aminal.”

“A jungle is like a forest but different, think… forest in a tangle, and usually, like, from what the nature channel has learned me, hot and humid and stuff, but don’t go thinkin’ to use me like an encyclopedia or some shit. I am not the gal for that.” With a shrug, I tossed out, “Try asking Daisy. She likes thinking she knows everything. Cottontail would be in heaven. The Joaniefied version? Jungle cats are huuuuge cats.”

With a surprised Hoh of a noise sounding off behind me, I turned around to see what all the fuss was about, to find myself staring at an empty room. “Okee dokily then,” I muttered as I got to work sorting through my shit. This was fantastic. All my things, all of them here. My makeup, every last bit, my sewing kit. I could squee with glee.

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