Page 5 of Thick

We tumble into the pile of blankets and pillows, our legs and arms somehow tangling up, and I end up with my face nestled quite nicely into the V of his thighs, and Mister Spectacular has his mouth right in my crotch.

Seriously. I can't make this stuff up.

I'm not entirely sure if I should be happy or sad about the fact that I have on my Hello Kitty underwear.

Wait... What is that? Is Kaz...

"Are you sniffing my snatch?"

He doesn't answer me. Instead, he growls. Straight-up mountain-man growls and sniffs again.

I probably shouldn't be creaming at this. But I am.

When the situation I'm in hits me, I push away from him as quickly as my big body can move and scurry away. "Shit! Sorry. I'm so sorry. Let me get dressed and get out of your cock. No. Shit. No. I mean hair. I'll get out of your hair."

I don't want to look him or Brennan in the eye, so I grab the damn sheet that caused all of this off the floor and wrap it around myself as I dash through their apartment and straight for mine.

Only to remember that I can't go back in. Not only is my kitchen a husk of its former glory, but I don't even have the key to my place.

My only other option is Edie. But Edie means I need to travel across town to her in nothing but a sheet toga, and I do not have that level of confidence down pat.

Edie and a sheet toga. Or Kaz and Brennan and an uncomfortable conversation about me being a shameless homewrecker. No competition, really.

My feet move towards the elevator as if they have a mind of their own, but a stern, no-nonsense voice calls my name before I can push the button.

"Zelda, make another move, and you'll be sorry."

My head hangs in shame at Brennan's words. Obviously, enough time has passed that Kaz could tell him what had almost happened between us. I would have to move. Probably leave town.

Shucks. Fiddlesticks. Darnit.

Slowly shuffling back to their apartment, I keep my eyes glued to the floor in front of me. When I reach their door, I can see Brennan’s sock-clad tootsies as he steps aside to let me in. My mood is in the shitter; my confidence takes a nosedive, and my jiggly ass shakes in my boots. Well, I'm not wearing boots, but you know what I mean.

I find myself in their living room, Kaz casually sitting on the couch with one leg bent over the other, looking for all intents and purposes like nothing happened, not even two minutes ago.

The poophole.

I don't want to have this conversation. There just aren’t enough spoons left in my emotional drawer. All I want to do is climb back into bed and pretend like the outside world doesn't exist. Better yet, I want to build a huge blanket fort and stay inside until the zombies come to eat me up.

"Zelda, babygirl. Sit down," Brennan orders.

I collapse onto the floor, sitting cross-legged, super-duper thankful for the huge sheet covering me.

Kaz rubs his hand over his face at my antics, and it bloody looks like he's trying to hide a smile—the piece-of-rubbish poophole.

"Kaz told me what happened in the—" Brennan starts.

But I wasn't kidding when I said I don't have the spoons for this conversation now, so I do the only thing available to a childish woman who barely controls her baser urges on a good day.

"Nah-nah-nah!" I shout at the top of my lungs while holding my fingers in my ears. The sheet slips down again without my one hand to hold it up, but it doesn't matter because I'm sitting down and still covered.

When Brennan's mouth falls open in shock, I stop shouting and wait to see what he does next.

He looks over at Kaz, his shoulders stiff with annoyance and exasperation, but I don't care. I don't give a flying fart that I look and sound like a five-year-old. This is exactly who I am, and seeing as I'll be leaving town anyway, it doesn't matter that they've met my Little—or at least one version of her.

"Zelda, please, we need to discuss a few—"

Kaz tries this time, but it doesn't matter who's trying to do the talking; I've made up my mind. Avoidance is key to survival.

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