Page 98 of 10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

Brad gives us a grin when we rejoin him inside the gazebo, and I feel as if my heart might take flight. Before we unveil the cake, my mom opens her presents. She gushes over the petite glassware I got her, tracing the flowers with her fingers and demanding a hug. And then it’s Brad’s turn. My mom seems just as surprised as me by the gift card to a local restaurant acclaimed for its seafood. Brad gets his own hug and a heartfelt thanks for the thoughtful gift, which has him beaming in response.

When I finally lift the dome off the cake, Brad watches my mom closely, looking as if he might just jitter right out of his skin.

“Oh, what a lovely color,” she coos.

Somehow, Brad manages to smile harder.

I light the candles on the top of the cake, Brad and I singing “Happy Birthday” to my mom. It’s such a simple thing, a small celebration for a woman who deserves the world, as far as I’m concerned. But being here with these people, the water lapping at the shore and the sun starting its descent in the sky, I feel immeasurably content. Happy in a way I don’t remember being since I was a child.

So when we finish the song and my mom says, “There are three candles. Why don’t we all make a wish?” I don’t hesitate.

I wish…

That I never have to give this up.

Chapter 25

Brad

I’ve always considered myself a driven person. There haven’t been many real-life foes I’ve faced that I haven’t conquered in some form or another.

There was the Rubik’s Cube my grandpa gave me when I was in the fourth grade. It took me a few years, but I solved it.

There was that time I got my car wedged horizontally between two parked trucks with only two inches of wiggle room, but I damn well got myself out without so much as a scratch to either vehicle.

There was even that teacher I had in tenth grade, Mr. Barker, who told me I lacked the discipline necessary to code anything more complex than a game ofPong. I sent him a copy ofRun, Run, Ricochetwhen it was released.

No, I’m not one to let an obstacle get the better of me. Which is why I’m standing proudly in my bathroom, butt-ass naked, determination spurring me on in the face of my most recent—and possibly wickedest—adversary.

“You. Will. Not. Win,” I say firmly.

The enema bulb stares back at me.

“Okay,” I breathe, going over the instructions inside the douching kit for the fourth, possibly fifth time. “Clean the bulb. Done.”

I give the fucker a squeeze so it knows I have the upper hand.

“Fill with water that’s just under lukewarm.”

I run the tap, waiting until it feels room temperature, and then I turn it just a touch colder like it says. Don’t want to burn the insides, I guess.Yikes.

As I fill the bulb, my imagination so helpfully supplies the little dude’s shrill shrieks of protest.Nooo, stop. I can’t breathe. You win. I’ll do whatever you wa—aaahglrglblr.

I snort and shut off the tap, checking the instructions again.

“Attach the nozzle of your choice to the bulb.”

Slowly, I look over at the nozzle options.

“Yeah. I’ll take fine tip, thanks.”

Making sure not to spill the water, I grab the slimmest nozzle from the box and give it a little wiggle into place.

“There. That looks like the picture. Next up… You may lube the tip of the nozzle if you prefer. Hard yes.”

Juggling the items in my hands, I grab the lube, get it open, and squeeze out a small amount onto my fingertips. I coat the tip of the nozzle, my cock twitching as I remember the feel of Joey’s fingers pressing against me a couple days ago, back before our return trip to Vegas. That felt pretty damn good, so this should feel…fineat minimum, right? My dick is certainly cautiously optimistic.

Granted, it’s Joey’s cock I’m looking forward to having inside my ass, not this literal douchenozzle. But hey, one step at a time, right?

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