Page 79 of Wild Side
Is he safe?
Is he hungry?
Is everything at the border okay?
Is he thinking about me too?
Dinner rush at the restaurant was the only thing that stilled my spiraling mind.
But that was short-lived, because now I’m back home. Luckily, my mom already had Milo peacefully tucked into my bed upstairs, and I’m… watching fucking wrestling.
It’s not even Rhys’s night—his show is on Mondays—but with a cup of tea in hand and a brain too wired to fall asleep, curiosity got the best of me. I find myself fascinated, from the costumes to the names to the way they throw themselves around with reckless abandon.
It’s riveting. The drama is full tilt, the women are badass, and the men are more varied than I remember from my childhood. They’re not all fake tanner, blasted-out pupils, and so muscle-bound it looks painful. They look more like Rhys. Big, built, andfit, but not like they chew steroids for breakfast.
The camera zooms in on the man wearing the manties that Rhys doesn’t, and I lean closer, gauging if he shaves his legs or if he’s just so oiled up that I can’t see the hair. Even his arms are smoother than mine. Perhaps it’s a strategy thing? I think back to touching Rhys’s forearms—there was definitely hair. I’d have noticed smooth skin or scratchy stubble.
I stroke Cleo, who is curled beside me, and then slide my hand down my own leg. Yes, likethat. Stubble—because I took one look at my razor in the shower and decided shaving my legs seemed like way too much work.
I reach for my phone, the question burning in my mind and not at all just an excuse to contact Rhys.
Tabby:
Do you shave your legs?
I hit send and immediately consider deleting it. We left things on such a tender note last night, and here I am, asking if he shaves his legs like the awkward weirdo I am.
He responds within seconds.
Rhys:
What?
Rhys:
Also, did you put that sandwich in my bag? I ate it on the plane. I hope you didn’t poison it.
Tabby:
Your legs. For wrestling. Is there a benefit to having them look like a Ken doll? Because I’m watching tonight’s matches, and this dude is smooth and glazed like a doughnut.
Tabby:
And yes, I made it. No, I didn’t poison it. I’ve given up on killing you off. I just wanted you to have something in case your connections were tight.
Rhys:
Sorry. You’re watching wrestling?
Tabby:
I’m a very supportive wife. I mean, come on. I made you a sandwich.
Rhys:
Yeah, looking so close at my coworkers that she has questions about their body hair.
Tabby:
