Page 16 of Your Pucking Mom

“What is this?”

“Sushi. Replacement for your water-drenched one.”

“How did it get here so fast?” I pulled out the chair next to her.

“Oh.” I was embarrassed I had a catering company on my phone. It made me seem like such a stuffy asshole.

“Oh, wait,” she exclaimed, taking a swing of her beer. “The catering here?”

I’d forgotten she knew someone who lived here, so she likely knew about the amenities the building had to offer. “Yeah.” I pulled out the seat next to her and sat down, then used the chopsticks to drop a California roll into the soy sauce I’d poured in the other side of the plastic container.

“Are you planning to leave your wasabi in the box?” Auburn pivoted on the spinning stool to meet my gaze, and the way she looked in my oversized T-shirt stole my breath. It rode up her thighs as she crossed her legs, revealing more skin than I imagined she’d allow.

“This green stuff?” I asked, picking up the little blob of green mush.

Auburn chuckled, her eyes dancing with mischief, as she continued pressing the joke. “Come on, every good sushi eater knows wasabi should be mixed in with the soy sauce. It’s the secret to a perfect bite.”

“Isn’t it spicy?” I asked. Listen, I was a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. This sushi shit was new for me, but I was trying to look like I was somewhat sophisticated.

“Yeah, but it’s like a sushi ritual.”

I laughed along, surrendering to her playful banter. “Alright, alright, I’ll remember that for next time.”

I admired the way Auburn looked when she ate. Her eyes lit up with delight, and there was a gracefulness in the way she handled the chopsticks. The T-shirt added a touch of casual charm to the scene, but it couldn’t hide the beauty that radiated from her, especially when she was savoring each bite with such evident pleasure. Her moans made me think of how she’d sound in bed. When I started to get hard, I took a deep breath, turning the stool slightly away so she wouldn’t see my boner.

“Tell me about yourself,” I said.

“I hate this question,” she retorted with a mouthful of sushi.

“Oh?”

“Like, exactly how deep into my traumatic past do you want to go, or is this like a keep it light and talk about your favorite color kind of question…?”

I couldn’t help but smile at her. “It’s wherever you want to go, Sunshine.” She swiveled quickly back to me.

“No.” She put her chopsticks down. “You tell me about you first. It seems fair if you’re asking such an open-ended question. Wait…Sunshine?”

I gave her a little smirk. “I guess I can answer both questions in one, then.”

Her eyes followed my hand as I brushed away a curl that had fallen in her face, and my fingers caressed her cheek. It was such a small gesture—a hint of what her touch could feel like again against my skin.

“I’m grumpy,” I stated, and she shook her head, waiting for me to say more.

After a moment, she filled the room with that laughter I wished I could bottle up and keep in a little box by my bed so I could listen to it whenever I needed to feel such joy.

“What? It’s true,” I retorted, folding my hands across my chest to prove my point.

“I don’t get how that is related to the nickname you’ve decided to call me and how that relates to your tell-me-about-yourself question.”

“What?” I feigned shock. “It doesn’t connect?”

“Stop,” she said, punching me in the arm. “Be serious.”

I sighed. I didn’t want to burden her with all my problems, so I kept it light. “I think my best friend could count on one hand the times he’s seen me smile in happiness. I generally am a grumpy person.”

“You are?”

“Yes.” I laughed. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I think the world brought us together so I’d have some more sunshine in my life. Plus…you remind me of the sun.”

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