Page 32 of Kiss-Fist
And maybe when we’re done, if Leaf is feeling nice, he’ll help me with a few phrases I want to say to Robbie when I see his sexy face again. God, the way he tasted, felt beneath me. His hard cock rubbing up against mine.
I wanted to crawl up on him and fuck him right into that desk.
But of course, I didn’t get a chance. The lights flickered on, and then he pushed me away and held out his hand for a gentlemanly shake.
Like it was some kind of transaction.
That was the part that hurt the most. I understood why he wouldn’t want to date me, but I didn’t want it to be atransaction. I wanted to get to know him. And I might have tried again for a second chance, but there’s one big, massive thing standing in my way: we don’t speak the same language.
And writing back and forth doesn’t seem to be a long-term solution.
Honestly, I need someone to break this down for me. Like really, someone needs to spell out what happened that day with Robbie. And I’m pretty sure Leaf may have some advice, so I’m willing to infringe upon his day to ask him everything I need to know. Even if it means manual labor around his little farm.
Not to mention Michael. He’s a bonus.
I make my way into his expansive yard and stop to take it in. It reallyisa farm. Behind a wooden gate on the far end of his backyard are large swaths of land with bushes growing on them. To the right are acres of trees. I’ll have to ask what he’s growing.
“Raspberries and over there are apples,” he says, as if reading my mind.
“Ah,” I reply as I put the basil plants on top of the planter box like he told me to. “I love an apple.”
“I hate them, and raspberries are pretty awful too.”
“Who doesn’t like apples?”
“Me. I’m allergic.”
I gasp and then let out a loud laugh. “You have the worst fucking luck.”
“I know. I’m surrounded by things that give me hives.”
He rolls his eyes when I can’t stop the guffaw that leavesmy mouth, just turns around and makes his way toward the car once more. I follow along.
“So what are you going to do about them apples, man?” I ask, trotting along near him. For someone who says he’s out of shape, he’s a fast walker.
“Have them harvested soon, I guess. I don’t know. I inherited this place and am just trying to survive. I know nothing about farms or apples or beavers.”
“It’s a groundhog.”
“Fuck you.”
He grins at me as we grab a few more plants and make our way back to the raised bed. The ones we placed there earlier are still there, so it seems Michael hasn’t made an appearance.
Sad.
“Can I be honest with you?”
“Sure.”
“I was surprised to see you out and about. I think I just envisioned you always in the gym.”
“I mean, I usually am always in the gym. I don’t get these muscles without work.” I flex for him, and he sighs.
“You don’t need to show off.”
“I like to though.”
He grins at me once more and power walks back to the car.
