Page 8 of Fruitbat

“Shit!.” I left it at home with my phone. “Never mind.” My face cooks as I start back to return the can.

“Take it.” Danny calls after me.

“I don’t have my money.” I retort, spinning back toward him.

He folds his heavy arms across his chest. “It’s on me.” His grin is sly and a dimple dips in one cheek.

I melt.

“I can pay you later, give me your number and I’ll Apple Pay you.”Smooth, right?I smile.

“Don’t worry about it.” He lifts off the stool and moves toward the row of coffee pots, hauling one off the shelf and trudging toward the back of the store.

I pop my can and take a long swig, setting it back on the counter, following him with my eyes as I round the far side of the store, and meet him at his destination.

He bends to set the thermos on the floor, and his shirt rides up his back, exposing milky skin, peppered with a dark patch of hair that swirls into the crack of his ass cleavage.

I lick my lips and swallow the pool under my tongue.

He cranks the faucet of the deep utility sink and reaches for the thermos.

I beat him to it, hauling the silver cylinder up and into the basin, pushing him aside with my hip. The static of his body tingles down my side as he stands close, watching me fill the jug.

I peer coyly, over my shoulder, and smile.

6

Danny

11:59

Who is this guy?

Si hums and shimmies, bouncing on one hip and tapping his toes, while water gushes into the thermos. He glances back at me, with that pretty grin and fluttering eyelashes.

“Good?” he asks, nodding toward the coffee station, waiting to be directed to the next course of action.

He’s so fucking cute.

I wave an arm and bow my head, inviting him to pass. I follow his proud trot, with my eyes glued to his tight little ass, swishing and swaying with each step, it’s hypnotic.

I need him to leave.

He grunts, heaving the container up, onto its perch.

I scoop in to help and the back of my arm grazes his warm naked belly. A blaze consumes me like an arid forest. My face is singed and I can feel it glowing. I jerk away as soon as the thermos is in place, and shuffle back into my clerk cave, to hide the inconvenient swelling in my pants.

“What’s next?” he floats over, drapes himself across the counter—dangling his legs—and beams with excitement.

“That’s it,” I shrug. “We’re done.”You can go now.“I just wait for my shift to end.”

The room blurs and spins for a moment. I close my eyes and sit on the wobbly stool. Holding myself together with a smile.

His eyes are big and his lips bow. “Should we take you to the hospital?”

“No,” I bark out with a short laugh. “I don’t have insurance.”Or the money, to cover a hospital visit. “I’m fine.”

“There’s a clinic a few streets over, isn’t there?” He steps around the counter and places a hand on my shoulder.

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