Page 29 of Hey Girl

“You, uh, okay there, Mouse?” I check in, settling my hands on my hips. “You look like me after half a can of BLAST.”

This makes her whip her towards me, beaming and holding my gaze for once, and she giggles. Like a proper girly laugh,and oh my god… I make people laugh all the time, sometimes just by looking at them. But that’s different. I guess they’re already predisposed or open to laughing, but this girl is usually so buttoned-up and quiet, and this moment suggests it isn’t necessarily because it’s how she wants to be.

It’s something she can’t help. It’s what she does to feel safe.

Oh. My. God.

She’s opened up and letting loose because she feels safe with me.

While bungee jumping.

I’ve never been that for someone before. It’s a rush as powerful as the jump we just did, but in a different way. And fuck, how she lights up… I was intrigued with her before, and thought maybe veering away from my usual choice in women would be good for me, but seeing her like this is just bringing out all of her inner beauty and making me a little weak-kneed.

“I’m great,” she answers with a satisfied sigh. “Are you okay?” She her smile turns slightly cautious.

“I’m…super,” I tell her. Jack is the damn lyricist. I don’t have words for what I’m feeling.

Yeah, I’m dandy over here. I just used my brain for something other than video games or random afterparty dance-offs.

I don’t feel sorry for her. I like her. I respect her, even more after today. She was scared shitless, but she didn’t let that stand in her way. That is fucking epic.

Oh my god, she made me think. Should I go lie down? Nah, fuck it, I’m fine. “Seriously, I’m great,” I assure her as her breathing starts to slow, but the smile doesn’t die down. I take her hand in mine, and she doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t even stiffen or look at me weird. She just walks along beside me as I lead us up the bank, like this is normal.

Like what’s happening here is nothing to be scared of.

Rebecca’s smilehas morphed into some kind of wicked smirk. She’s staring down at her phone with her thumbs galloping away on the screen. Either way, it’s invigorating me to see it.

I take a quick glance around her living room again, surprised she not only let me come in, but invited me in when I drove her back home. Surrounded by Chinese takeout containers, I’ve never had such a low-key, almost mundane evening in all my life.

And fuck me backwards with a fish fork if I don’t love every second. Because she’s fun, even when she’s just sat back doing her thing, not saying anything. She’s like a magnet to me, and I never experienced that feeling before, but it’s fucking great. Like being drunk on a person.

The small hiss she makes as she suppresses a laugh gets my attention, and I have to know what’s going on. She’d better not be texting another dude. After our magical afternoon, dangling from bungee cords tied together, I’m feeling a little possessive.

“Oh, um…” She smiles coyly at me. “I kind of like to… mess with people online.”

“Seriously?” I ask as I shift forward in my seat on the couch. She just got even more interesting.

“Yeah, it’s… kind of my outlet,” she confesses sheepishly as she reaches for one of the takeout containers, picking it at its contents with her chopsticks. “Typing is how I get out things I’d really love to say to all the many assholes of the world.”

“That actually sounds awesome.” I stab at an eggroll with my chopstick. I never got the hang of how to use them, but I’venever allowed it to get in the way of my meals. “So, who are you messaging right now, and what about? I want in on this.”

She gives me a considering, almost sheepish look. “Okay.” She gives a warm giggle and shifts in her seat, curling up a little closer to me. I love that she’s seriously that comfortable with me that she can kick back like this.

She swipes her phone and pulls up whatever message thread she had up. “So, there are a lot of douchebag trolls, and they love to either mess with people, or try to get something going, like cybersex or a hookup or naughty photos. Anyway, this one guy is trying to tell me he’s a billionaire with a Lamborghini and a dick that could take care of any of my needs. Want to help me come up with a response?”

“Sure,” I hold my hand out for her phone. I give a huge belly laugh when I read the stranger’s message to my mouse-lion. “No fucking way…I can’t believe people actually do this! I mean… What are they expecting, that you’re gonna throw yourself at his probably-barely-average cock? Puh-LEASE.”

For half a second, I feel pukey at the thought of her doing that to someone else. She’s my woman. And if that means I should be dressed in a loin cloth, brandishing a cudgel, fine by me.

“No,” she says blithely. “He’ll want a photo of my… Um, my t-tits.” Her ears go red.

I freeze. “What?” I’m not an idiot, I know that this is the way things are on some parts of the internet, but the thought of someone trying to manipulate Rebecca into giving him a photo of…

Of…

My blood turns heated, damn near burning, as I think of her without a top on. The gentle curves of her. The color of her skin, her nipples. Would they tighten as I looked at them…?

I realize that my eyes have dropped to her chest, and I’m basically just staring at her breasts like…

---