Page 64 of A Very Happy Thanksgiving
And now here he was, pressed against me, hardening rapidly.
“We could make it work,” he whispered.
The joint burned down to my fingertips, and I dropped it. Ground it out with a foot. Bent to flip it into the plant pot and brushed dirt over the top.
“I have to leave now.”
“That’s it?”
Marc had commitments—the Whispers in Willowbrook production plus at least one other movie that I knew of. I didn’t know where I’d be next week, next month, next year. After the novelty of skulking around with me wore off, he’d want more. He’d want what I couldn’t give.
“I’ll walk you back to your room.”
“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?”
“Which one of us is carrying the gun?”
“I thought it was a taser?”
“Who says I can’t have both?”
“Do you have both?”
“I have a stun gun, a semi-automatic, two knives, and a vial of snake venom.”
“Snake venom? Is that a euphemism?”
“No, actual snake venom.” I tapped the jewelled silver pendant I wore, the capsule hiding a deadly secret. “It has an injector for those little emergencies.”
This time, Marc followed without trying to stop me. “Will you at least reply to my emails? It hurt like hell to lose a girlfriend, but it hurt even more to lose a good friend.”
“Maybe.”
“I still have the same email address.”
“And the same password, which is a rookie error. You should change it regularly and make it longer.”
“So you do snoop through my inbox?”
“Not often. The number of women sending you pictures of their body parts is disturbing. And no, I haven’t read the pinned message.”
“I do nothing to encourage them.”
“That’s the problem; you don’t have to. You just walk around looking like Marc di Gregorio, and women begin flinging their underwear in your direction.”
“I could grow a beard or something.” He rubbed a hand over the stubble he hadn’t yet shaved. “What do you think?”
I thought I’d like to feel the scratch of that against my thighs, but I couldn’t encourage him either.
“Do whatever makes you happy.”
We reached the stairs.
“What would make me happy is backing you up against this wall and kissing you until I taste my name on your tongue.”
Out of curiosity, I examined the wall. It was damp, covered in moss with tiny succulents woven among the spongy fronds.
“You’d crush the poor plants.”
