Page 23 of Love Me Like It's Real
“Yeah. I know!” I shake my head. “It’s a plague. All of it.”
“And the worst part is how many people fall for it. You know, some of the same faces are bouncing around every damn year wishing on a star, or some bullshit, hoping they’ll find the one. You’d think they’d have got the message already but no! They celebrate it anew like amnesiac children who are too addicted to eating ice cream despite getting brain-freeze every time!”
I nod along with my friend’s speech until he bursts out in a long sigh and I pat him on the back, trying to ignore the veins popping on his temples.
“Are you okay there, bud?”
Wells takes a deep breath and smiles as if nothing even happened. “Yeah, why do you ask?”
I put my hands up and continue walking down the heart-infested street.
“Just making sure.”
Wells puts his hands up to his face and grimaces. “Are the veins back? They’re back, aren’t they?”
“Sure are.”
“Damn it. I owe my therapist thirty bucks.”
I wince and stare at my friend.
“Huh? Why?”
“He bet me that I couldn’t keep calm, cool and collected for a week. I proved him right.”
I wince even harder. “Isn’t your therapist supposed to believe in you? No, wait a minute. Aren’t you supposed to pay your therapist anyway? No. No. Hold on. Are therapists supposed to place bets on their patients?”
Wells shrugs. “Well, ‘therapist‘ might be an exaggeration. He’s more like a listener…” he says.
“Slash?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Bartender. Yeah, fine. I’m talking about Bobby.”
“There you go.” I pat him on the back again. “You had me worried there for a second. But don’t worry. The veins are going down and you look just as handsome as you always have.”
“Well, thanks bud.” He wiggles his thick, perfectly threaded eyebrows and I snort out a laugh.
Not that Wells is ugly. He’s the farthest thing from that. He’s tall, buff, and sexy as all hell. His skin is a smoky quartz tone that would hide any imperfection if he had one, and he wastes no opportunity showing it. For good reason. But it’s his eyes that could make any person, regardless of gender or orientation, fall head over heels for him. Many have. They’re a striking dark sapphire I’ve spent many days and nights gazing into. But just like me, Wells isn’t interested in love or relationships. Wells has a trail of broken hearts longer than the St. Lawrence river. We did try the fuck buddy thing once upon a time but we found ourselves incompatible. He’s a strict top and I’m too pretty to bottom every night.
“Oh stop that. I stopped falling for that after our first attempt at the horizontal tango.”
He blows raspberries and pushes me away.
“Still full of yourself, I see. I haven’t hit on you since you failed to part those pretty cheeks of yours for Daddy. You just think I do because you want to get into these pants.”
It was my turn to blow raspberries. “Puh-lease,Daddy! Now who’s full of themselves? You loved my blowjob and you know it. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”
Wells grins. “That’s not the kind of cheeks I was talking about andyouknow it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, love machine.”
He gasps and wags his finger at me. “Hey!Lovemachine? I didn’t insult you.”
“Move!” I push him. “I’m thirsty.”
“For deez nuts!” He laughs.
“Oh I’m sorry. When did you invent a time machine?”
