Page 103 of Until Tomorrow
“Nope,” I cut him off before he could continue. I kicked off my heels and headed straight to the couch. Patting my thigh, I said, “Come on. Just like we used to.”
“There’s no way in hell we’ll both fit on that couch together.” Couch was an understatement. It was more of a loveseat than anything else. Still, Elliot laid down next to me, his head resting in my lap and his legs dangling off the side. When he was settled, I put his snacks on his bare stomach. “Thank you.”
“Always,” I replied. Instead of snacking, I ran my fingers through his hair as he liked. The tiny moan he let out was involuntary. Elliot had always loved having his hair played with. Bad snacks, gossip, and running my fingers through his hair was the best combination to pick up his mood—though I didn’t think it’d help much in this situation. There were a lot of feelings to unravel between the two of them, and neither seemed ready to cross that bridge.
“Distract me?” Elliot asked. He popped a peach ring in his mouth while staring expectantly at me. “Tell me about you. What’s new with you and this whole poly and life thing you’re going through?”
“I made a friend, and I’m fully aware of the fact that I sound like a kid when I say that,” I said. “Katy is incredible. She helped me put together the binder I presented to Logan about polyamory.”
“Of course, you made a binder.” He chuckled. “I want to see the binder.”
“I even have a printed vocabulary list,” I bragged. I was damn proud of that binder. “I’m going out with her this week. We’re going to one of those Magic Mike shows—firefighter-themed.”
“Oh, sure, you’ll let them show you their hoses,” he commented. “Send me pictures. I need to make sure their uniforms are on right.”
“I’m sure that’s the only reason why,” I replied, laughing. He made an enthusiastic sound of agreement. “I’m trying to come up with ways to do things with art.”
“How’s that coming along so far?”
“I’m failing miserably.”
“You mean succeeding at figuring out what doesn’t work.”
“Sure,” I scoffed. “We can think about it that way.”
“You’ll get there,” Elliot said around a handful of Cheetos. “You’re talented, short stuff. You’ll figure out how you want to use that talent at some point.”
“I’m supposed to be here comforting you, you know,” I muttered.
“Keep playing with my hair and tell me about this guy you’re dating,” he ordered.Like I’d stop.
“He has pearls in his dick,” I told him because that was the most unique thing about Rhett that I could come up with. Elliot dropped the bag of Cheetos. They rolled to the floor, spilling everywhere.
“Fuck! Wait! Short stuff said what?” He bolted upright. “Shit, that’s a mess—repeat that fucking sentence right now, woman.”
“He has pearls in his dick.”
“How the… what the… huh?” That dumbfounded expression on his face made me laugh. “What the what? Like… I mean, is it like… he wants you to put pearls—are we talking freshwater pearls? And where are you putting the pearls?”
“No!” I exclaimed, laughing harder. “No, I’m not putting anything anywhere! He had them surgically implanted in his dick.”
“Hewhat?” His voice rose a whole notch, and I lost any hope I had of talking. “Short stuff! What the fuck? He didwhatto his dick?”
I tried to answer, but words were impossible as I folded over the arm of the couch in a fit of laughter that had me wheezing.
“I know I told you to go kinky, butshit.” Elliot whistled, and I couldn’t tell if he was impressed or uncomfortable. “Either draw me a fucking diagram right now, short stuff, or find me an online picture.”
“Oh, my God!” I gasped. “Don’t look at the online pictures! Don’t do it! It’s a horrible rabbit hole.”
“You can’t say shit like that,” Elliot said. Instead of listening to me, he grabbed his phone. “This is definitely a bad idea… oh…oh…oh, no! No! No, Eva, no! What is this? Why? Why?Why?”
He tossed the phone onto the coffee table with a full-body cringe.
“His doesn’t look like that!” I rushed to tell him. “Hence the rabbit hole! The pictures out there are terrifying.”
“No shit, short stuff.” He flopped back down, settling on my lap. “I sure as fuck hope it at least feels good because otherwise, he did that to himself for no reason. Why? Why would anyone do that to their dick?”
“It’s like he has a magic dick,” I admitted.
