Page 20 of Follow Your Bliss

She paused with her hands inside the box, staring at me with a confused expression. “Jason, you’re not trying to lure me into a sex dungeon with all these favors, are you? Because in my experience, when a man offers a ton of unsolicited help, eighty percent of the time he’s trying to lure you into a sex dungeon.”

I smirked and placed my hands on the swaying table, meeting her already-laughing eyes. “That’s a high percentage.”

She copied my body language and leaned in. “The other twenty percent want to embroil you in a pyramid scheme involving fish sticks and hand puppets.” She shrugged. “New York City was an interesting place.”

Trying to hold back a smile, I leaned in closer than I maybe should’ve. “Are you trying to besmirch the good name of the sex dungeon I built underneath my church home?”

She busted out laughing, and so did I. “Now I know you’re lying.” She pulled crunched up newspapers from the moving box. “Because if you dig down five feet in Metairie, you’re probably hitting water. Seriously, you’ve done way too much for me already.” She pulled her sewing machine out and set it in the middle of the table. It bowed under the weight. “You don’t have to build me a table. And I can’t afford one, anyway.”

I stood back, folding my arms. “Rose, are you trying to have to buy a new sewing machine? Because that’s what Strawberry Jello wants.”

She breathed out and shook her head. “You should see it when I cut fabric out.”

“What if I made it into a video for my channel? I’ve never made a sewing table. Might bring in some new followers, and then my followers might also go follow you. Winning all around.”

Her face soured. “Would I have to be on camera, though? I’m not made for video.”

I frowned at the exquisite woman before me. “Well, yeah. That’s usually part of the draw. I guess you don’t have to, but you’ll get more followers if you do.”

She pulled at her shirt. “I take the worst pictures. I always look like a trash gremlin.”

“A what?” I scoffed.

“Atrash grem-lin.” She enunciated, no humor to her voice as she pulled a moving box for clothes closer to the table.

“Wait, you’re actually serious. I’m not saying this to make you feel better, but—” I couldn’t tell her she was beautiful, even though it was true. “You look absolutely nothing like a trash gremlin.”

Her cheeks pinkened as she rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to get you to disagree with me. Isaac, the guy I’m seeing, says I’m just not photogenic.”

There he was. And he must wear magic glasses that make beautiful things look ugly. “If you posted photos or videos of yourself, your numbers would go up faster. Just saying.”

She half-smiled at me. “How does your girlfriend feel about you posting all these shirtless photos of yourself?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.” That came out faster and harsher than I’d meant it to.

She frowned at me. “Yeah, you do.”

I shook my head emphatically. “No, I really don’t.”

“But I met her the other night. Misty?”

“She’snotmy girlfriend.” That definitely came out harsh. “Wait, did she tell you she’s my girlfriend?”

Her pretty mouth made a perfect O. “Your mom introduced her to me as your ‘lady friend.’ That’s not mom code for girlfriend?”

I sighed heavily and rolled my neck. “Misty’s the daughter of my mom’s best friend. I took her out to dinner exactly once over a year ago, and only because Mom wouldn’t stop pushing me. Worst night of my life.”

“Well, she stood there beaming when your mom said it.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively. “She wants her some Deck Daddy.”

“Geez, I can’t believe my mom introduced her as my ‘lady friend.’ Who even says that?” I leaned against the back of a rattan sofa that’d seen better decades. It crackled like it might break, and I stood back up.

She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start shit.”

“It’s not your fault. Misty’s just…a lot. She’s pushy, overbearing, and doesn’t understand the concept of ‘no.’ When I took her to dinner, she was determined to have me for dessert, and I—”

Rose snorted. “Waitwaitwait…” She grabbed her phone, scrolled for a minute, then held the phone up to me. “This what she wanted?” The post of me lying shirtless across the dining table I built.

I laughed. “I’m serious! She’s such a hypocrite. In our church group, she led a whole discussion about how devoted she was to saving herself for the sanctity of marriage, which is fine if that’s what you believe. But on that date, she wouldn’t shut up about how good she was in bed and how she wanted to prove it to me. Despite me telling her I wasn’t interested. Repeatedly.”

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