Page 26 of My Super Sexy Spy
“Trust me. I know guys and I know how we feel about our dicks. Michelangelo had a tiny pecker, and because he did, he carved this great work of art with an even smaller one. Why? So when people saw Michelangelo’s dick, they would think it was actually impressive.”
I leaned back in my chair with my arms crossed over my chest as if I, Beth Ryan, was responsible for defending Michelangelo’s penis size.
“Hmm. Seems to me you also might be a little fixated on size.”
His eyebrows shot up and I had to stop myself from laughing. “What are you suggesting?”
“I don’t know. Just that maybe it takes a small-dick guy to appreciate the mind set of another small-dick guy.”
Instantly, he stood and reached for the button at his jeans. “Okay, gauntlet thrown. I’m going to show you my big dick right now, in this restaurant.”
“Ted!” I hissed when he actually got as far as unzipping his jeans. “I’m serious! You’re embarrassing us. We look like crazy Americans.”
“Crazy, fucking American with a big-ass dick!”
“Ted!” I squeaked. “I will kill you if you get us thrown out of here!”
Finally, he chuckled and zipped and buttoned his jeans. Taking his seat and digging into his shrimp as if he hadn’t almost gotten himself arrested for indecent exposure.
“You’re insane,” I told him.
“Challenge a man’s dick size and you suffer the consequences,” he said. “Want some of my shrimp?”
I did. I took my fork and stabbed his plate. It was garlicky and salty and delicious. I’d left over half my pasta carbonara on the plate, so I pulled some of it together on the bread plate and pushed it in his direction.
He rubbed his hands together with glee. “Your dainty appetite is totally working in my favor. Have you always eaten like this?”
I shook my head. As a kid I always had an empty stomach. I would stay at the diner after school while my mom worked her shift and eat everything and anything anyone wanted to feed me. That was before it all went to shit, though.
“No, it was because I was… I was…homeless for over a year. Food was scarce and I learned to do without. Now, too much, like I said, just drags me down.”
I lifted my chin in defiance, waiting to see how he would react. Yesterday, I didn’t want to tell him any of this. But sitting outside on a beautiful night, in this piazza, eating incredible Italian food, I felt… I don’t know. Open or something. Connected to Ted in a way I hadn’t been connected to someone in a long time. Not even my boyfriend.
It felt safe to talk about my past, but the reality was, it was a total mood crusher.
Slowly, he put his knife and fork down. As if almost purposefully trying not to react. “Homeless, huh? You said you were tight with your mother.”
I shrugged. “I was. We were. Before she became a meth-head who liked to turn tricks for her fix. I took off just after I turned seventeen. It took some time before I finally landed some place. Now I’m a blogger who owns my own condo. Can you believe it?”
He remained serious. And when he looked at me like that, it was as if I was with someone different.
Ted the man, as opposed to Ted the guy. Someone not safe; his intensity felt a little dangerous.
“Yeah. I can. You’re a scrapper, Beth. You scream cute kitten on the outside, but I bet if you were cornered, your claws would be sharp and a little deadly.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt aboutcute kitten, but scrappy made me feel stronger than being a slightly agoraphobic chick, so I was okay with it.
“Anyway, it’s why I don’t trust people. Easily anyway. If it makes you feel good to know, you’re sort of an exception to the rule.”
He picked up his fork and spoon and twirled the pasta I’d given him like he knew what he was doing. “What about The Douchebag? You must have trusted him if you were going to bang him.”
I frowned. “That was more of an exercise. To push myself out of my comfort zone. Do you want to know a horrible secret?”
He nodded slowly.
“This is my first time outside the country.”
He blinked as it started to dawn on him. “You’ve written about places around the world. Written about them in a way that made me feel like I was there. How is that possible?”
