Page 116 of Lavender Moon

“You have a thing for my wife,” I accuse in a low voice.

“No!” He turns to face me, holding his hands up, drink and all.

I don’t give a fuck that this guy is slightly older and was in jail, I’ll fuck him up if I find out he was eyeballing my wife all those times at the shop while I was away.

“No?” I raise an eyebrow that says he better explain himself and fast.

“No,” he says more calm but unequivocally firm. “No, I swear, I’ve never felt anything for your wife, it’s…”

“What?” I ask, shaking my head with my eyebrows trying to disappear into my hairline.

He looks around uncomfortably, possibly checking to see if anyone else is within hearing distance of us before motioning me to close in a little. “You tell anyone this, I will paint the fucking auto shop pink,” he threatens, and I wave my hands in the calm down gesture.

“Not a word, just explain your deal with my wife tonight.”

He looks at the ceiling a minute before releasing an extended breath out his nose. “I have a thing for ballgowns,” he admits quickly, before grabbing up his drink again. I pause a moment, watching him knock back a swallow as I process this.

“I’m sorry?”

He huffs again. “I get… turned on by ballgowns.”

“So…” I feel my forehead scrunch yet again as I try to get my head around this. “You see a pretty ballgown, and you–”

“No! God, you make it sound like I like to just get it on with a dress.”

“So… what, do you like to dress up?”

“No, not that either!” West grinds out between clenched teeth.

“Then what?”

“It’s a princess fetish, alright?!” West is getting hot under the collar, and he reaches for a nearby glass of ice water.

“A princess fetish?” I repeat, having never heard of this.

“When a girl is dressed up fancy in a gown, you know – looking like a princess.”

“Where the fuck did this come from?”

“You don’t get to know that part,” he spits and pins me with a no-bullshit stare.

“Alright, fine. So instead of leather and lingerie…”

“Fucking ballgowns do it for me,” he mutters his affirmation. “Weddings are fucking torture.”

“So you’re turned on by my wife in her wedding dress?” I look over at Luna’s radiant smile again as her dress swishes with the song she’s dancing to with her friends.

West takes a little too long to answer for my liking, and when he sees the fire ignite in my eyes, he tries to defend his position once again.

“It’s just the fucking dress!”

“Get out,” I growl, pointing towards the exit.

“Yep,” he clips out, briskly turning and striding out without a backward glance.

Fucker.

When I’m satisfied he’s long gone, I make my way back over onto the dance floor to take my wife in my arms.

---