Page 145 of The Stud

“Why?” I bitterly hiss at the T.V. from where I’m sprawled out on my couch. “They don’t do anything aboutyou.”

“Out of control feels like a bit of a stretch, Florence.”

“Thank you, Newbie!” soars free enthusiastically enough that Bear’s ears perk up.

“Does it?” She bitchily counters with a cocked head. “In the pasttwoseasons, they’ve hadvery publicincidents of drunk driving, substance abuse, gambling, and countless domestic disputes.”

Not fucking countless.

She just can’t count that high or her makeup melts from her brain overheating.

“Their continuouslyrecklessbehavior is anembarrassmentto the league and contributing to our much bigger PR problem which isn’t what we need as an industry.”Her face snaps back to the camera as though looking directly at me. “I think the Dragons need to not only be fined but possibly relocated andsold.”

Growls simmer in my throat to the point Bear not only huffs for me to stop, he nudges at the remote for me to change the channel.

Probably a good call.

Nothing good ever comes from watching that Selena Nomez.

I flip to the main screen to choose my streaming choice yet am instantly saddened more by the recently finished stretch of films I see.

ForSakicsake…thisis the problem with dating someone who has the exact same taste in entertainment as you.

You can’t just watch one of your favorites to take your mind off of them because chances are you’ve watched it together or banged during it, which is the last thing you want to be thinking about during a breakup.

Possible breakup?

A notnotbreakup?

Fuck. Me.

Whatever.

Scrolling past my typical choices and rewatches aimlessly continues until I finally reach a choice not tied to sports.

Or knights.

Or warriors.

Oranythingthat could possibly remind me of the pylon wholooks likehe can’t keep it in his pants.

The beginning ofRomeo + Julietbegins and within the first four minutes, the man I know will never disappoint me, inches the remote across my sweatshirt covered chest to me once more.

“No,” I halfheartedly state to him, “I don’t need that.”

He pushes it a second time.

“Unlike the BS Florence was spewing Iwannahear this.”

His nose flicks the edge of it yet again causing it to flip over and hit me in the face. “Fuck!”

Rather than retort to my outburst, he simply adjusts his paws on my chest, relaxes his head between them and shuts his eyes, doing his best to drown out my movie pick.

Okay.

I lied.

Clearlymy dog can and has been corrupted.

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