Page 47 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
“What?”
“This. Being the Chainsaw. All the performing and the fans and the persona. You hate it.”
I glance at her, surprised. “You noticed that?”
She shrugs. “Nobody else seems to.”
I watch her for a beat, something uncomfortable shifting in my chest. She sees things other people miss. She always has, apparently. I feel a hard lump in my chest at that thought.
I nod toward the couple two tables over, the ones with a French bulldog in a baby stroller. “You think the dog picked that stroller out himself, or did they workshop it together on Pinterest?”
Juliet tries not to smile, but it cracks through. “You’re ridiculous.”
“That stroller has a sunshade and cup holders,” I mutter. “I’ve seen players travel with worse setups.”
She glances over. “I mean… the doglookspretty comfortable.”
“Comfortable?” I scoff. “That mutt is living better than I am. If it’s got a skincare routine, I’m walking into traffic.”
She snorts. “Jesus.”
I can’t stop looking at her. The lipstick, the bun, the dangerous heels. The way she’s trying so hard not to enjoy this, like admitting she’s having fun would be some kind of weakness.
Beside us, a kid at the next table over knocks over a glass of orange juice. I lean down fast, grabbing napkins and mopping up the mess before it can spread.
As she stands and stretches to help, the hem of her skirt rides just a little higher up her thigh. I don’t even try to hide the way my eyes track the movement.
Juliet glances over her shoulder and catches me mid-stare. My expression is probably somewhere between guilty and tempted. It knocks something off-balance in both of us. For once, I’m not teasing or trying to get a rise out of her. I’m just looking. And she doesn’t seem to hate it.
“Hey, little man,” I say to the kid, distracting him with an eyebrow wiggle. “You just made brunch way more exciting.”
Juliet watches me like she’s seeing something brand new.
As we walk out, she murmurs, “As much as it pains me to admit this, I feel better now that I’ve eaten.”
I nod. “Told you. Brunch solves everything.”
“It’s better than being cooped up in the condo for another three hours, torturing myself by rereading the article again and again.”
“Same difference.” I put my hand on the small of her back, enjoying the flush that spreads from her cheeks to her chest at my touch.
It makes me wonder if she’s always so responsive. Would she make soft little sounds if I kissed her again? Would she gasp if I tugged her hair back and nipped her neck? God, I bet she would.
I’m in my bubble of horny thoughts as I touch her smooth, warm skin almost all the way home.
Back at the condo, the bubble stretches and pops almost immediately. We’re only home for a couple of minutes when I catch her tinkering with the heat. Checking the temperature, I find it to be about seven degrees higher than I would ever keep my house.
I scowl at her. “Turn down the thermostat. I’m going to be sweating in my home.”
She glares right back. “You’re a giant. You generate your own heat. I’m freezing.”
“Not my problem.”
Juliet puts both fists on her hips and gives me an irritated look.
“You’re such a cave troll. Also? Your music is too loud. Every night before I go to sleep, you blare the dumbest music. It’s inappropriate.”
She’s hot when she’s a little pissed off. “Aw, baby. I’m doing it for you.”
