Page 36 of A Very No Strings Halloween
But he would eventually find the answer to his HEA problem, and Donna would be both his teacher and his solution.
One night—a night that was seemingly just like every other—he went to a Harvard bar with his buddy Murphy. “Where should we park my car when we go to the Harvard bar?” Billy asked his friend. “Just kiddin’! We’re takin’ the T ’cause we’re gonna get hammered!”
The place they went to was much like any other dive bar around Boston. Except that Murphy quickly spotted a wicked hot, curvaceous, and very smart redhead at the end of the bar counter. “Whoa,” he said. “I’m goin’ in.” He smoothed down his gelled hair and sauntered over, in his tracksuit, to where the lady was sitting by herself.
“Oh, hello there,” he said when she finally noticed him.
“Oh, hello,” she said politely.
“My name is Murphy,” he said, feigning a classy air. “What might your name be?”
“My name is Donna,” she said, shaking his outstretched hand.
“Donna, Donna, Donna, yeah. I thought I recognized you,” Murphy said. “I think we had a class together last semester.”
“Oh yeah?” she said, playing along. “Which one?”
“Yeah, Theory of Love, I think it was. I sat behind ya.”
Donna continued to politely chat with this fellow because she was a nice person—not because she was into Murphy.
But then a snobby Harvard student with thin blond hair that he wore in a ponytail came over with his equally snobby pals. “Excuse me,” Ponytail Guy said to Murphy, even though he was not being polite. “What class did you say you were in with Donna? Theory of Love, you said?”
“Yep, that was it. Don’t wanna brag, but I got an A.”
“Did you? Well, then you must be well versed in all the major theories of love. Perhaps you could enlighten us about Gary Chapman’s theory of the Five Love Languages?”
Murphy clearly had no idea what Ponytail Guy was talking about. “Uh, yeah, sure. There’s, uh, Baby Talk, Dirty Talk, Filthy Talk…”
Ponytail and all his dumb friends laughed at him—and not in the good way.
“Oh, why don’t you just go away,” Donna said to Ponytail.
But then Billy walked right up to Ponytail, because loyalty was one of Billy’s Top Five Greatest Attributes, after Awesome Butt, Boston Accent, Charming Grin, Genius of Fun, and Nice Hairy Chestiness—oh wait, that’s Top Six. “Naw, naw, let’s talk about marriage counselor and internationally best-selling author Gary Chapman, PhD, and his theory of the Five Love Languages,” Billy said to Ponytail, getting all up in his boring face. “You wanna talk about his trademarked Acts of Service, Receiving Gifts, Quality Time, Words of Affirmation, or Physical Touch? Or would you like to also include the two recent additional love languages coined by dating site eHarmony—Shared Experiences and Emotional Security? Maybe you’d like to enlighten us about the Triangular Theory of Love, courtesy of Robert J. Sternberg?”
“Of course,” said Ponytail. “You’re speaking of Intimacy, Passion, and Decision slash Commitment.”
“Yeah. I am. And you’re speaking of words you memorized for an exam. You’re about as passionate as my left shoe. Not the right one, though, because that one is wicked passionate and it’s about to make itself real comfortable up your ass if you don’t apologize to my buddy here right now.”
Ponytail cleared his throat and mumbled “Whatever—sorry” as he walked off with his ponytail between his legs, so to speak.
“Yeah, that’s right,” Murphy called out after him. “My boy’s wicked romantic!”
And then Murphy went back to the other end of the bar to drink beer.
“Wow. That was amazing,” Donna said. “Here’s my phone number. I want you to call me so we can arrange a time for you to come to my house and help me with a problem.”
“Okay,” Billy said. He was more than willing to help her, simply because she was red hot and he wanted to smash that. But he would soon learn that she was so much more than just a dump truck and nip nops.
And then they said goodbye to each other because Donna had to leave.
It was the month of Halloween, so when Billy saw Ponytail Guy sitting inside a nearby coffee shop when he left the Harvard bar with Murphy, he sauntered over andbanged on the window. “Hey,” he said to Ponytail when he got his attention. “Do you like candy apples?”
“I guess,” said Ponytail, shrugging.
Billy slapped the napkin with Donna’s phone number up against the window in Ponytail’s face. “Well, she just gave me her numbah, so fuck you and your candy apples, mothahfucka!”
A few days later, after Billy got arrested for being too much fun, he called Donna and she gave him the address for the house her patient had left for her. She was having house troubles of all kinds—primarily the haunted kind. William was more than happy to help her with her pipe troubles. He laid her pipes good. Real good. So good that Donna never wanted another plumber. Even though they told other people and themselves that they were just friends, they did all kinds of things together. Billy did things to Donna’s sensational body like no one else ever could. Donna kissed Billy all over and made him feel things he never felt with anyone else.
