Page 83 of Lust

She shrugs. “I drove more than that, but only on the farm. I wanted to play with Barbie, though.”

She’s wavering, hovering near the door and apart from one tiny bite, she’s not touched the donut I handed to her.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Her dithering is making me nervous.

Her eyes take in the lack of seats in the room, then stop at the only place to sit - next to me on the bed. She stares at it.

I hold my hands up in the air. “I’m not going to punch you.”

“I’m not worried about that,” she snorts. “I’m the one with the great right hook, remember?”

“All too clearly.” I raise my hand up instinctively before remembering the part of my face she punched doesn’t exist anymore. “So what are you worried about, because you’ve been standing like a caged cat by the door since you came in?”

“You…” She looks at my face then stops.

“I look like a fucking monster? Is that what you were going to say?” I feel my anger flaring. I should have slammed the door in her face when I had the chance.

She steps across the room and sits on the bed, keeping a distance between us. “It’s not the outer monster that’s the problem with you, Barclay. You know your face will heal and grow back. We’re in Hell. They fixed Quinn last year after...”

She pauses and her eyes go down to the donut on her lap.

I already know what she’s thinking, so I finish the sentence for her. “After I poisoned her?”

She licks her lips and turns her eyes to me. “You really are a total shit. You know that, Felix Barclay? It’s a good job you’re good looking.” Her mouth quirks up at the edges, and damn if it doesn’t make my mouth smile, too.

“I’m a real fucking male model. Maybe I’ll have Halloween Weekly Magazine call me up to be their cover model. I won’t even need make-up.”

She clamps her lips together to stifle laughter, and the donut drops from her knees to the floor. As she bends to pick it up, I see her whole body shuddering with silent laughter.

I hate being laughed at. Really hate it and yet, I don’t mind this. It’s funny.

“It probably tastes better with bits of carpet on it,” I mutter. “Less sugary.”

She sits back up and props the donut back on her knee. She has tears from the laughter, making her eyes sparkle.

“Eat it,” I dare her.

She stares at the donut, then slowly brings her eyes to me. She picks the donut up slowly and brings it to her lips. Bits of carpet threads are stuck in the pink frosting. She fixates on me and in her stare, I see a challenge.

I match her stare. “I fucking dare you.”

I fully expect her to put it back in the bag, but she calls my bluff and takes a bite. “Mmm. Delicious.” Her face tells another story. Her face contorts, and she wrinkles her nose. And all the while, she doesn’t take her eyes from me.

“You are a fucking nut job.” I shake my head. “There’s no way that’s delicious. It tasted shit without the carpet on it.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s really good.”

I stare back, rising to her challenge. “You do know that I’m pretty sure I jacked off on the end of my bed and some of my spunk probably hit the floor right where the donut landed.”

Her mouth pulls down as she grabs the bag with the last two donuts in and spits it out. “You are truly revolting.”

I lean back with a satisfied smirk. “You know I didn’t do that. I just wondered how far you’d take it.”

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and folds the top of the paper bag over. “Remember I’ve already tasted your stuff and let me tell you, it aint no donut frosting.” She spits once again into the bag. “Just don’t come crying when you’re hungry, because I spit on your remaining donuts.”

I take the bag from her and throw it toward the trash can. “Those donuts were awful, anyway. Couldn’t you at least have brought me a steak?”

She shrugs. “They’d probably coat that in pink frosting, too.”

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