Page 21 of Interception

“I got you good. Your face was so pale, I thought you were going to puke. There’s one pair of boxer shorts, one pair of socks, a t-shirt, and my toothbrush. That’s it, so calm your ass down and take this.” He hands me a huge takeout bag from my favorite Chinese place. I take it over to the kitchen counter and open it up to find at least fifty fortune cookies on top of loads of takeout boxes. How much food did he buy?

“You got my text then. Thanks.”

“What?”

“I text you to get extra fortune cookies.”

“Oh. My phone is in the suitcase. I didn’t see it.”

“Really?” I kind of love that he’s a man after my own heart when it comes to fortune cookies. “You just got fifty fortune cookies for no reason?”

“Not for no reason. I love them. They’re part of the joy of eating Chinese takeout. Anyone who doesn’t think they are delicious is crazy. What could be better than good food followed by a handful of cheesy, vague predictions for the future?”

“Right? They’re awesome. I can’t believe you got them.”

“That’s nothing. Wait until you see inside this bad boy.” He unzips the suitcase and throws open the lid. It’s full to bursting with everything I asked for—snacks galore and a layer of DVD boxes.

“You went all out. I’m impressed.”

“I also brought a bottle of the pinot noir you liked from my place.”

“Did you tell Faith where you were going?”

“Yes, I explained everything. I told her about the epic blow job and the multiple orgasms while I was chowing down between your thighs. She was most interested in the bareback riding and ‘jizz legs,’ to use your delicate terminology. Of course, I didn’t tell her anything! They were too busy defiling my guestroom, so I doubt they even noticed that I came and went. Your dirty little secret is safe. They won’t know you’re slumming it with me this weekend.” He throws a ten pack of Funyuns at me.

“You’re not a dirty secret. I just don’t like how complicated this is already. Hunter is your best friend. Faith is mine. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never turned up on a stranger’s door before and then spent the next three days doing the horizontal mambo with them.”

“It was pretty strange. Like getting a mail-order three-night stand right to my door. Not going to lie, best fucking one-night-stand I’ve ever had. No bar full of cattle and swooning fangirls.”

“I bet you just hate having women throwing themselves at you.”

“Sometimes, it gets tiring. It was a nice change to meet you under the circumstances we did, just having a relaxed few days of sex, and I thought we had some laughs.”

“We did. We can. Isn’t that what we’re doing today? Fun. Friends.”

“With benefits.”

“Yes. Definitely with the sex benefits. But first, let’s pick our first movie and tuck into this Chinese food. It smells amazing.” He unloads everything from the suitcase, piling my kitchen island high with snacks.

“I didn’t know which kind of Twizzlers you like, so I got every flavor. If you choose those crazy rainbow ones, though, I might have to leave. They are just wrong on so many levels.”

“Strawberry all the way.”

“That’s my girl!” A thrill runs through me at his choice of words, but I quickly push the feeling aside. He dumps at least ten boxes of Milk Duds on the counter.

“One would’ve been good. You went a little overboard, champ.”

“I like to be prepared.” He casually adds a ‘family size’ box of condoms to the mound of supplies.

“Don’t you think it’s creepy they have a family-size box of condoms? It’s supposed to be for family prevention. And if multiple members of a family are sharing a box of condoms, I feel like that’s a seriously disturbed family dynamic. Am I wrong?”

“I can say with all honesty that I have never thought about that in my life and wasn’t anticipating that response. You’re definitely not a predictable woman, Zoey Porter.”

“Thank you.” I busy myself grabbing us a few beers from the fridge. “I’m just going to throw this out there, and you can take it or leave it. I won’t be offended.”

“Okay…”

“We’ve already crossed the line on the condom front. I really enjoyed the whole skin-to-skin thing, and we have established that we’re both clean and contraception isn’t an issue. I’m not averse to the idea of continuing our weekend without gloves. Up to you. If you want to use them, then that’s cool.” The words tumble out of me, and it takes me a moment to meet his gaze as I hand him his beer.

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