Page 162 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
He pushes off the side wall, skating away, chugging from his water bottle.
“Okay.” Ivy elbows Mollie gently and Mollie startles. “Why don’t you fill us in on your propositions for the team’s social media?”
Mollie tucks a strand of brilliant copper hair behind her ear and grins.
“How much do you know about TikTok’s algos?” Our blank expressions in response make her grin. “Watch time, engagement, hooks, retention, personalization, freshness, and consistency. That’s the order of operations for getting TikTok to eat up your content.”
I lean in. “Go on…”
* * *
Later that day, we have what feels like our most public date yet. Lunch at a trendy restaurant in downtown Phoenix, holding hands across the table while photographers snap pictures from across the street. I barely notice the cameras. They’ve become background noise.
“You okay?” Hux rubs the back of my hand.
I realize that I’ve been staring off into space for a full minute. I smile. “Sorry. I’m just… happy? It’s not really something I thought our relationship would bring.”
“Our relationship, huh?” He raises his eyebrows.
My face heats. “I just meant… you know…”
“Oh, I know exactly what you mean.” He leans in, eyes sparkling. “You’re talking about how you’re a good girl for me at night.”
“Hux!” I duck my head. “I’m not talking about that at all.”
He purses his lips and pretends to think. “Are you saying that you don’t want to get fucked so hard tonight that we break another bed?”
“Will you keep your voice down?” I squeak. “Honestly, Hunter. You are the absolute worst.”
“I know.” He smirks, his fingers finding the pulse point at my wrist. “You like it, though. You can’t tell me you don’t want to slip off to the bathroom for a few minutes and let me ruin that pussy.”
My mouth goes dry. “In the bathroom? Here??”
Hux’s lips twitch. “There’s so much that I want to do with you, Monroe. Do you know how many sex toys I have bookmarked for you? I want to get caught fucking in the supply closet. I want to wake you up with my face in your pussy. In the shower, on the ice, over the phone when I’m away…”
I blink. “You’ve, um, thought about this a lot.”
“Yeah.” He laughs, a genuine sound. I haven’t gotten a ton of laughs from him but I love hearing them. “You’re a fantasy come to life, Juliet. And I don’t mean just because you have unbelievable tits. You’re smart and funny and you seem to like me even though I’m…”
He trails off, his amusement falling flat. For a second, I see a flash of pain on his face.
“You’re what?” I ask, lacing his fingers with mine.
“You already know.” When they come, his words are sarcastic. “I’m the Chainsaw.”
I consider him for a long moment. Huxley’s dirty blond hair falls into his face just so. I brush it back, smoothing my hand along his jaw. He has a healing bruise on his right cheek from a few days ago. His blue-gray eyes study me, his brow creased with concern.
“I don’t know who the Chainsaw is,” I say at last. “All I know is you, Hux. You’re kind and you remember stupid things I care about, like my coffee order. You treat me like I matter.” I take a deep breath. “I hope it’s not disappointing to say that I hate your alter ego, but I really like you.”
He shakes his head slowly, the hair falling back into his eyes.
“You let me take what I need, Monroe,” he says, his eyes flashing. “I’m a big brute who needs to be in control. You let me be myself. Not only that, but you seem to enjoy it.”
“Yes, Hux, I do. I’ve loved everything we’ve done so far.”
“Yeah?” He fidgets. It’s odd to see such a big guy be uncomfortable. “I love it too, Firecracker.”
Moving around the booth, he slides to my side and kisses me. He takes up all the damn space but I don’t even care. I tangle my fingers in his overlong hair, sucking in a breath that’s pure him. Burnt vanilla, tobacco, and musk. It makes my mouth water.
