5. Steely Dan
Chapter 5
Steely Dan
R ose
I moved in almost a week ago, but I was barely settled in. But I did get two more dresses done. I left my books, my TV, my Nintendo Switch—really all my fun stuff except my favorite vibrator, of course—in boxes while I worked on Becca’s dresses so I wouldn’t be distracted.
Not that Jason hadn’t been a distraction. A welcome one.
I was not prepared that first night, when he asked if he could take a shower just as I was going to bed. He must’ve thought I was already asleep when he came out of the bathroom, but I was awake enough to see him walk through my bedroom wet and wearing only a towel around his waist .
All that beautiful, still-damp skin, smelling like his manly soap. Fuck me. He was viscerally, biologically attractive to me, like his skin was a salt lick and I was a deer.
I smoothed the pinned-out fabric into place and grabbed my shears. Deck Daddy wasn’t a distraction I needed or should want. I was with Isaac. Even though he’d been out on tour for the past two months and barely answered my texts anymore.
Nope, I wouldn’t think about Deck Daddy smelling like soap in a towel, or Deck Daddy all sweaty from his run helping me set up my bed and cooking me breakfast to make sure I was taken care of. Or the easy rhythm we’d fallen into, cooking together, sharing meals, and working on my table. Woodworking reminded me of sewing, turning flat raw materials into three-dimensional, finished objects. It was exciting to learn something new, and Jason made everything fun. He was so patient explaining everything, teaching me how to use his tools, laughing his sexy laugh when I said something else ridiculous. His praise and support every time I posted one of my designs on Instagram or made show-off-able progress on Becca’s dresses made me start to feel like I could handle this.
Nope nope nope. He was the marryin’ kind. I wasn’t, and anyway, I was seeing Isaac.
The chorus of “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover” rang on my phone. Speak of the devil. I set my shears down and picked it up. Hmm…he wanted to meet on a video call tonight, after leaving me on read for the past two days. I braced my hands against the table. With our relationship only about sex, and we didn’t even live in the same city anymore…what was the point? He had no interest in my life’s work. I could only identify maybe two of his songs.
I dropped my head and closed my eyes. Level One relationships never had substance, and I was usually okay with that. But lately my soul felt like my bank account: sad and empty.
Something popped behind me. A small, hard object hit my left butt cheek, and I yelped and whirled around.
Jason stood laughing at the doorway, a Nerf gun in either hand. “I’m gonna leave this one right here.” He slowly lowered one of them to the ground like we were in a hostage situation. “We have ten minutes until the sun’s perfect for the last shot we need for your table.”
I took a slow step toward the Nerf gun.
“ Anh-anh-anh !” He held his palm out toward me. “I’m not done.”
Hands on hips. “You’re gonna get it so bad, Deck Daddy.”
His cocky smile made me flush. He knew what I was about, alright.
“You only have five minutes to take me out.” He cocked his electric green and orange weapon and crooked his finger at me. “Bring it on, Sweet Rose.” He turned and ran.
In five quick paces I got to the gun, picked it up, checked it for ammo. Slipping the foam bullet bandolier he’d left hanging from the doorknob over my shoulder, I stepped out into the hallway and looked to my left first. Another foam bullet hit my right butt cheek.
I whirled around to see him laughing and running for the door. “Hey Soniat, leave my butt cheeks alone!” I raced after him to the back door and out onto the lawn. There—hiding behind a brick arch. I slipped behind another one and peered around the tree beside it.
The sun was starting its descent into a red-tinged sky. The world was golden, and the crepe myrtle trees edging the courtyard shed their white flowers everywhere. The wind shushed through the pines and oaks, and the only other sounds were the courtyard fountain and Jason’s laughing.
“What do I win when I shoot your ass up?” I demanded.
“A Deck Daddy shirt.”
I looked down at the red “Deck Daddy likes to screw” shirt I was wearing for the shoot. “I already have one.”
“Yeah, but this is the blue one you wanted. It came in today.”
“Hell, yeah.” I dashed to the next arch and took aim. I shot; I missed.
He howled. “That was too close!”
I ran toward him across the courtyard, firing, and he dove behind a row of azaleas. From arch to arch and tree to tree, we chased each other all around the back property in front of his double-wide trailer workshop, sometimes laughing so hard we couldn’t stand up. He got me over and over, but I hadn’t landed a single shot.
He walked toward me with his gun held up and turned out like he was surrendering. “Wait, wait! Time out! We have to film the last segment.”
“Yeah, okay.” I waited until he was within ten feet of me. “Not!” I shot his stomach, and I didn’t stop, not even when he squealed and turned around. That just got me the butt shots I’d been going for. Laughing so hard he could barely breathe, he came closer, gasping, “ Stop! Stop! ”
He lunged for my gun, but I wasn’t about to give it up. “No! No! It’s mine!” I turned and doubled over it, squealing.
His arms and hard body came around me from behind, and without much effort, he wrestled it from my hands. He let go of me and stepped back, panting, jogging backwards, and gloating with both guns up over his head. “I won!”
“No!” I gasped, wiping my face. “Now I’m all sweaty and you’re gonna make me go on camera?”
He laughed at me, walking toward the workshop. “You’re supposed to look sweaty when you build stuff. C’mon. It’s showtime.”
I followed him up to the porch where he handed me a water bottle and started the camera. I was getting more and more comfortable with filming because Jason made it fun. The banter was kinda exhilarating, and he never minded when I wanted to stop and fix my hair.
He took a few minutes to check his cameras and get everything perfect. He was even more unbearably handsome in the setting sun, with his eyes pools of burnt amber and his dark curls highlighted with a touch of red. But I could only ever be a Deck Daddy fan.
In my experience, no man ever attained that level of beauty without an overabundance of conceit and arrogance. Unless, of course, you were Jason Momoa or Chris Hemsworth or Chris Evans. But guys like that didn’t grow on trees.
If only. I’d be a happy, horny little farmer, growing myself a crop of hunks, some for me, some for my friends…
Jason’s voice broke through a quickly-blooming, orchard-related why-choose fantasy in my head. “Okay, just like we practiced, okay?”
I nodded. “Let’s do it.”
We took our places on either side of my sewing table. My fingers itched to pull off the canvas cloth draped over it. Despite my begging and pestering, he hadn’t let me see it for the past three days.
Jason shifted into his social media personality. “We’ve been hard at work,” he said, “and now it’s time for the big reveal.” He looked at me, nodded his head, and together, we both took off our Deck Daddy shirts. He revealed his godlike physique, and I revealed a Deck Daddy tank top.
He turned to me, acting confused as he delivered his lines. “Wait, Rose. I thought we’d…” He motioned between his bare chest and me. “I thought we’d agreed to go topless.”
“Nope.” I set my gaze back on one of the cameras and shook my head. “That’s your shtick, Deck Daddy.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He turned toward me and laid his hands on the table between us. “Are you ready to see it?”
I echoed his position on the opposite side of the long table, raising my eyebrows suggestively. “Just what are you about to show me, Deck Daddy?” I ad-libbed.
He turned away laughing.
“Come on! I can’t wait to see it,” I whined. “You haven’t let me see it since we finished building it.”
“Okay, okay. Here she is.” He pulled the drop cloth away.
Both of my hands went over my mouth, and actual tears sprang to my eyes. The last time I saw it, it was bare wood, my standing height and with a bottom shelf for supplies and bolts of fabric. But now, the whole thing was painted white, and the tabletop was a smooth, marble-look surface. There in the middle was a decal of my logo, the stylized gown made of rose petals with “Sweet Roses Bridal” beneath.
“I wanted to get you a custom cutting mat as a tabletop, but not only was it cost-prohibitive, they wouldn’t be able to handle the decal, and it wouldn’t come in for forever. And I know you need this, like yesterday. So, I did some research, learned that melamine was the next best surface for a cutting table.” He ran his hand along the surface. “And, well, I knew a guy who knew a guy, and—Rose, are you crying?”
I nodded, wiping my face. “It’s beautiful. It’s…Jason, I can’t believe you made this for me. It’s such a step-up from Strawberry Jello, it’s not even in the same food group. Thank you so much.”
I went around to his side of the table and hugged him right around his middle, my cheek against that mulberry silk skin.
“Aww, you’re welcome.” He squeezed me back but stepped away quickly and glanced at the camera. “I guess it’s safe to say you’re another satisfied customer?”
I ran my hands along the tabletop. “Yes, so very satisfied.”
Jason winked at the camera. “Deck Daddy aims to satisfy. Thanks for hanging out with us while we made this sewing table for Rose of Sweet Roses Bridal. Remember to follow her, at SweetRosesBridal and follow me, DeckDaddy, while you’re at it. And remember folks, it’s all fun and games to go shirtless when the saws are off, but always wear protection when you use your tools.”
He crossed to the cameras and turned them off. “Perfect. I think this is gonna be something my followers haven’t seen before. Thanks for letting me make it for you.”
I couldn’t stop crying and running my hands over my table. “Are you kidding? It’s perfect and amazing, and how could I ever truly thank you for this?”
He grinned. “Thank me by helping me take down my cameras and bring this bad boy to your sewing room. I have a church meeting to get to in about an hour.”
“Whatever you say, Deck Daddy.”
I set down my straightening iron and popped on a red lipstick. As hot as I looked right now, Isaac would never know I’d spent all day bent over a sewing machine, running around playing Nerf guns, and filming in the hot setting sun. Why didn’t I straighten my hair more often, besides it being a pain in the ass? He liked it better, and I had to admit, it was a good look for me.
I curled up on my bed in my sexy halter top and short shorts, waiting for Isaac to call. Playing and filming with Jason had gotten me all heated up, and I was hoping to expend that sexual energy on a phone sex date. Because maybe I’d been too pessimistic about this thing with Isaac. And maybe if I looked hot enough, he’d come down to visit me.
FaceTime was ringing, still “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.” Bad vibe, but that was all my fault. I sat up, cleared my throat, adjusted my cleavage, and slid my finger across the screen.
“Hey handsome, how are you?”
He was walking on a city sidewalk, and the connection was spotty.
“Isaac?”
“Hey Rose, I hear you now. What’s going on?”
“A lot! I’m all moved into my new apartment, and I made so much progress on Becca’s dress today. I think it’s going to be one of the most beautiful dresses I’ve ever made. You made it back from tour? How are things in the city?”
“Good, good. We’re going back out next week. Got a gig tonight, too. I’m on my way there now. I woke up with a sore throat, and I’ve been trying to save my voice all day, so I can’t talk long.”
My heart sank. “Oh. Okay.”
“So, listen.” He paused beside the door of Punk Decay. “We need to talk.” He looked up and nodded at someone off camera.
I knew it. “Really?” I huffed, my face going hot. “That’s the cliché you’re going with?”
He rubbed his hand across his beard, his blue eyes catching the streetlights. “Rose, I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Long distance. You’re a great girl and all—”
“Woman.”
He rolled his eyes, and I wanted to poke them. “Woman. Of course. My whole life’s up here, and I don’t feel strongly enough about this to string it along. I’ve been seeing someone else.”
The hurt part of me shriveled under the heat building in my chest. “You mean you’ve been cheating on me?”
He shrugged. “It happened kinda fast, while I was out on tour. I really like her.”
I called it. Men. Never. Stay.
“Got it.” I ended the call. Deleted his contact info. Deleted my pictures of him and any of us together—except that one. I looked fine in that one. I cropped him out and tossed my phone on the bed. Stood up and paced my room.
“UGHH!” I growled and threw a throw pillow across the room. Why was I such an idiot who attracted ever stupider idiots?
He couldn’t keep it in his pants. Exclusivity was all I asked of him, and it was a pretty low fucking baseline. He’d never been super nice to me, not really. So why had I trusted him? Why was I seeing him at all?
Jason wasn’t even a romantic option, and in the first week of knowing each other as adults, he’d selflessly offered help at every turn, even taking care of me when he noticed I wasn’t doing it myself. And he’d asked for nothing in return. Isaac once walked empty-handed up the ten flights of stairs to my apartment, right beside me, and never once offered to carry one of my grocery bags. He wouldn’t even go down on me unless I “returned the favor.” Tit for tat, always.
I’d tried so hard to guard myself from being hurt by men by offering them the only relationships they can sustain, but clearly that wasn’t working. Here I was, hurt again. And over stupid Isaac?
No. Actually? This was for the best. I needed time to get serious about my business, and why keep someone in my life who made it harder?
My gaze landed on the ornate wooden chest I kept my sex toys in. But first, I would take care of myself. It was only eight o’clock. Jason was still at his church group, so he wouldn’t need the shower for another couple of hours. I locked my bedroom door, lowered the lights, and put fresh batteries into my favorite vibrator.
If I was going to be alone, I was going to enjoy the hell out of it.
Jason
Ten more minutes, and my fifth SALT meeting would be over. Thank God. We’d already discussed which parishioners needed our help next, when we’d go, and what we’d take care of, so now it was time for Misty’s two-faced bullshit. It was one of the three things I hated most about the group.
I barely listened as she led a discussion about sexual immorality and discovering God’s illusive plan for you as a single person. Which would be fine coming from anyone else, but having it come from her mouth irked me every time.
She’d texted me after Becca’s shower last weekend, inviting me to her house for “dinner and a BJ.” I’d texted her back and told her no, and to only contact me with information about the group. Her response?
I hadn’t dignified that with a response, and I was dreading getting her alone tonight. But I had to talk to her and make her understand that we were never going to happen and that she had to leave me alone.
“So, I’ll close out with this, from Thessalonians.” Misty stood at the front of the room at a lectern. “‘For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor.’” She smiled, her gaze catching on mine.
She got off on her double life, didn’t she?
I looked to Reverend Paul, the former leader of our old group, because it was time for the second thing I hated. Although I never signed up for the group’s picnics, mini golf, and carpooling to church, these people were more interested in those activities than helping the old folks.
“Thank you, Misty. Now let’s get a show of hands.” Reverend Paul put his hand on Misty’s shoulder and pushed up his glasses. Poor Paul was clearly smitten with her.
Maybe if I dropped a hint about Paul, she’d leave me alone. He was a good-looking guy. Super nice.
Nah, I wouldn’t do that to Paul.
“How many of you are coming to the bowling alley Friday night?” Paul asked.
I kept my hands all the way down, inwardly wincing for the reactions of the third thing I hated about this group: the women who’d sat on either side of me tonight.
A warm hand on my arm. “Jason, you aren’t going?” Sina asked, her dark brows lowering.
“No, I’m going to be out of town.” Thank you, Big Dick Tools.
A warm hand on my other arm. “But I was only going if you’re going.” Bethany smiled her winningest smile and twined her arms around mine, tossing her hair.
I unraveled my arms from both ladies and stood up. “Sorry. Busy.” They’d already asked, and I’d already told them I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Their constant touching and competition over me was as unwanted and disrespectful as Misty’s.
I slipped to the back of the room to fill my coffee cup, yet again. I’d actually been hopeful when the groups first combined, thinking maybe it would help me reconnect with my faith and reevaluate what I wanted from a partner. But that’s not why most people were here. Some clearly just wanted to hook up, others were uber-religious parishioners looking for like-minded mates, and a few were fresh from divorces and break-ups; half of those just wanted to bitch about their exes, and the others were still grieving.
My new buddy, Antoine, who also got suckered from the volunteer group into this one, joined me at the coffee counter and leaned in. “If they try to organize another painting and wine night, I’m out, bro. Maybe we should form our own group.”
“I know, right?”
“What do you know?” Misty appeared beside me, encroaching on my personal space and batting her lashes at me.
“Misty! What’s up, girl?” Antoine bellowed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and squeezing her. “What’s goin’ on?”
She held up a clipboard. “I’m looking for volunteers to plan our next mixer.” Her pale blue eyes dug into mine. “You know you want in.”
I scratched the back of my head. “I can’t make that one.”
She ran her hand up my arm and leaned toward me, laughing as if I’d said something funny. “You’re so silly, Jason! You don’t even know when it is.”
I pulled away as Antoine took her clipboard and diverted her attention from me. He’d been the best anti-wing man.
“I think what Jason meant to say is that he sucks at party planning. But you know who doesn’t suck? Antoine.”
Misty ignored him but grabbed her clipboard back. “Jason, I thought we could plan it togeth—”
Paul raised his voice above the conversations in the room. “Wait a minute, everyone, it looks like we may have to reschedule bowling.” He held his hand up for attention, but his eyes were on his phone. “Did everyone see the latest projections for Tropical Storm Oscar?”
Antoine pulled out his phone and got to the local WWL weather app before I could. “Shoot. Looks like I’ll be evacuating tomorrow.”
“Really?” I scrolled through the latest updates. Great. Meteorologists were expecting it to take a jog east overnight, and if it did, it would hit our area a couple of days before I was planning to leave for Florida.
“Let’s close our meeting with a prayer for the safety of lives in the upcoming storm.” Paul herded us to the middle of the room, and after a quick prayer, the meeting dispersed and people started to leave.
When the room was almost empty, I went up to Misty and pulled her to the side. “We need to talk.”
She smiled slyly and walked off to the back of the room. “I knew you’d come around. Would you use your big, strong muscles to bring the coffee urn to the sink?”
I sighed, hefted the urn, and followed her into the kitchenette off the meeting space. I set it on the counter. “Misty, I was serious about what I texted last week. I don’t want you to contact me in any way except about this group.”
“Oh, okay.” She giggled and pulled her phone from her pocket and started texting.
“I’m serious. Are you even listening to me?” My phone buzzed, and I pulled it out. She’d texted me:
“Damnit, Misty, this isn’t a joke. This”—I waved my finger between us—“is never gonna happen. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
“Well, I’ve been masturbating to your Instagram photos all week, and I want the real thing.” She reached for my belt, but I grabbed her hand and pushed it away.
“Don’t touch me! And don’t contact me ever again.” I pushed past her and stormed out of the kitchenette into the empty meeting room.
On the drive home, all I could see was red. Red and her disrespectful smile after I’d pushed her off. Before I even processed where I was, I was parking in my lot. I cut off the engine and sat there for a minute with my eyes closed. I pulled out the paper with all the group session dates from my pocket and checked tonight’s off. Four more.
No, no more. As long as she was going to be there, I wasn’t. But wait…we had to build that wheelchair ramp for Mrs. Gerstner. I folded the paper, stuck it back in my pocket, and got out of the car. I’d get Antoine to text me her address so I could build it on my own.
I walked in from the lot. Mom was going to add this to her litany of things I was doing wrong with my life. I didn’t even want to tell her why I wasn’t going back to the meetings since she always thought I was exaggerating about Misty’s behavior.
Halfway to the church, I noticed all of Rose’s lights were on. I changed my direction toward the kitchen door of the rectory. Coming home had been so much more comforting since she’d been here.
I knocked before unlocking the door. Rose sat with her knees under her chin at the table with a carton of ice cream and a spoon in her mouth.
“Hey.” She wiped a tear from her face and went back in for another spoonful.
That single tear on her face diverted all my attention. “Hey. Are you alright?” She had a full face of makeup and a low-cut halter top, and her hair, although mussed, was straightened. She looked beautiful, but I missed the curls.
She shrugged. “Rough night. How was your meeting?”
I huffed a laugh. I was pretty sure I could guess what Rose would think about the church group and Misty. “Honestly? Pretty rough, too.”
She waved her spoon in the air. “You’re welcome to pull up a spoon and a chair. It’s chocolate chocolate chip.”
“Three magic words.” I grabbed a spoon and sat beside her, oddly relieved just to be in her presence. “Wanna talk about it?”
“I…” she paused dramatically and waved her spoon for effect. “Got dumped.”
“What? No way.” Who would dump this amazing woman? “I’m sorry.” I dug my spoon into the carton right after her.
“Yep. Isaac was cheating on me.”
“Seriously?” Now I was mad all over again. “What an asshole!”
“Right? Thank God I got a clean bill of health at my gyno check-up after I last saw him. I mean, I made him wear condoms, but I—why are men?”
I shook my head. “You didn’t deserve that. How long were y’all together?”
“Three months, but really only the first month, before he went on tour. He’s the singer for the Public Droids. They’re a kinda shitty punk band.” Her eyes met mine as she dug in the carton again. “Why was your night so bad?”
“Um…” If I told her, Rose would be so angry on my behalf. I didn’t want to make her night any worse, and I didn’t want to talk about it anyway. “It’s not a big deal. Your night was definitely worse than mine.”
She shrugged it off. “It’s okay. It was only about sex anyway. I have what you call—” she held up finger quotes—“daddy issues. But I spent the evening with Steely Dan, and now I’m having ice cream. So, it’s totally fine.”
“Well, that’s…a lot to unpack. Big Steely Dan fan?” I shoveled a heaping spoonful into my mouth.
“ Big fan. Steely Dan’s my favorite vibrator.”
I choked on my ice cream, managing to swallow it down before a coughing fit.
She laughed and patted my back while I recovered. “I’m sorry. Is that TMI?”
“Nope.” I laughed nervously and risked a glance at her. She was looking down into the ice cream carton, digging with her spoon. Maybe it was the perfect quarter-curves of her breasts above that halter top, maybe it was all those months of celibacy, maybe it was her cavalier mention of Steely Dan. But an image of Rose lying naked across my bed popped into my mind. Her curls were spread out, and a vibrator was between her thighs. And it was glorious.
My face heated up as I changed the subject. “Dare I ask what you mean about daddy issues?”
“Oh, you know. The old story. Guy meets girl. Guy marries girl. Guy decides he wants a divorce while girl’s seven months into their second pregnancy.” She pointed at herself. “That’s me. I’m that second baby. I grew up understanding that relationships don’t last. So, I keep it all about sex so I don’t get hurt.”
“That’s not fair. Why do people always say a woman has daddy issues, as if it’s her fault that her dad left and caused the family trauma?”
She stopped with her spoon halfway to her mouth and looked at me for a moment. “Huh.” Spoon back into motion. “Feminism is a good look on you.” She smiled around a mouthful of ice cream.
“You deserve so much better. I mean first with the dig about you not looking good in pictures—which I know to be a lie, because I’ve been editing video with you in it all week. And now this.”
She didn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t know what I even saw in him. He kept harping on me to lose weight. He traveled all the time. Literally all I asked was for him to be exclusive, and he couldn’t even handle that.”
“Wait, wait. Back up. He was harping on you to lose weight? What a dick.”
“To be fair…” Her luscious mouth closed around a spoonful of ice cream. She swallowed it down and licked the spoon clean.
Felt that one in my groin.
“To be fair,” she continued, “I’ve gained some weight in the past few years. More than I’m comfortable with.”
“There’s no ‘to be fair’ about that. You know you’re beautiful, right?” The words fell out of my mouth before I could reel them back down my throat.
Her almost-purple eyes snapped up to me as her face pinkened, and she looked away. “I know,” she said softly.
“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable. I just don’t understand how he could be such a jerk.”
“Well. I’m not surprised, really.” She dug vehemently into the carton. “All men do is leave.”
I cocked my head. “That’s not exactly fair, either. My ex left me. Well, technically she cheated on me, and I left her. So, she really left me first.”
Her face clouded over. “I’m sorry. Did that have anything to do with your bad night?”
“No. Kinda. When I met Kasey, I thought she was the one, you know? I didn’t see her red flags for what they were until I was a thousand miles away from home. But she was emotionally abusive. She didn’t respect my faith or my family’s. She pointed out all their weaknesses, and I’m ashamed to say I loved her so much—or maybe I loved the idea of being in love—that she pulled me into her way of thinking. Talked me into moving far away from my family, effectively separating me from my whole support system, all my friends.
“I was with her for almost three years. And I was miserable. I gained, like, forty pounds, was depressed all the time. I thought she might’ve been cheating on me, but I didn’t confront her. She never wanted to talk about marrying me, but she came home one day with an engagement ring from the doctor she’d been cheating on me with while I’d put my life on hold to support her through med school.”
“ Acch .” Her hand landed on mine. “Jason, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
“Thanks. So after taking every STD test known to man—”
“Because you gotta.”
I nodded. “Because you gotta. And thank God they were all negative. I came back home. My family took me back in. But my mom’s still not over it, not even almost two years later. The meeting I was at tonight…” I pulled the SALT agenda from my pocket and dropped it on the table. “My volunteering group got folded into this awful singles’ group. I’m not getting anything out of it, and…I’m not going back.”
She removed her hand and went back for more ice cream. “Was it as excruciating as it sounds?”
I pushed the sheet toward her. “You tell me. Here’s the outline for the sessions.”
She opened it up. “SALT—Single Adults Living Truth. Oh wait. The acronym’s doing double duty. ‘Say your prayers.’ Okay, I can get behind daily prayer. I do that. ‘Abstinence is God’s way.’” She stopped reading and looked up at me, her lip curled. “Of course, all this is fine if that’s your thing, but it’s definitely not mine.” She went back to it. “‘Lust is a sin. Purify yourself in God’s name. Sex is to be shared only between two people married in the church.’” She broke off reading and looked up at me. “Jesus, is Roosevelt still president?”
“Right? For the record, those aren’t my opinions.”
“Mine either.” Her eyes returned to the paper. “‘And masturbation is an abomination’?” She raised her brows. “Oh shit, seriously?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, that was pretty much the whole first meeting.”
She snorted. “But that’s not gonna stop you, right?”
I huffed a laugh, looking away and back. Oh—she was really waiting for a response.
She closed her eyes and put her head down. “Oh my God, did I just ask you if you masturbate? You don’t have to answer that. I know I overshared myself, but…”
I chuckled. “I’m…trying to abstain for the duration of the class.”
Her head popped back up. “Wait. With other people, or yourself?”
“With myself. I haven’t been with anyone since Kasey.”
She laughed uproariously, then looked at me not laughing along. “Oh shit you’re serious. But why, though?”
I shrugged, digging out another spoonful. “Not because I think it’s an abomination. They talked about other benefits, like having space to focus on self-improvement, improved mood, better focus—”
“Unless you’re someone with a high sex drive, then it might make your focus and mood worse,” she said, carefully spooning up a ridge inside the top of the carton.
“Huh.” That would explain a lot, actually.
“There are so many health benefits to orgasms. Putting the A in abstinence is in direct conflict with T.” She picked up the paper again. “‘Take care of yourself.’ The oxytocin and endorphins released during sex help battle depression. And did you know that a study found that men who have more orgasms when they’re younger are better protected against prostate cancer when they’re older?”
“Really?”
“That one needs more research, but masturbation has been associated with improved sleep and mood. Not to mention stress relief. And you’re still determined?”
“I mean I’m already celibate. In for an inch, in for a mile, right? I only have four weeks left, anyway.”
“Well, I don’t have to get it to respect it. But thanks for coming to visit. I was just sitting here stewing before you got here.” She finished off the ice cream on her spoon, but it dripped down her hand. She ran her tongue up her finger and sucked the tip of it with a smack and a satisfied sigh.
I let out a held breath and averted my gaze, rubbing my beard like I hadn’t just been staring at her like a starving man.
“Welp, the ice cream’s all gone, and I’m exhausted. I’m gonna go wash all this crap off my face and go to sleep.” She stood up and turned toward the trash can with the carton. The two perfect curves of her ass stuck out below the torn hems of her Daisy Dukes.
Jesus Christ, she was making my abstinence ten times harder. As she washed her hands, I closed my eyes and wracked my blood-deprived brain. What did I want to talk to her about?
Oh right—the storm.
“Have you been watching the latest track for Tropical Storm Oscar?”
“Shit. No. What’s it doing?”
“Yeah. Welcome home.” I opened up my weather app. “We probably ought to be a little worried about it. If it jogs any more east, we could be hit pretty hard. I was planning to leave for Florida on Thursday, but I’m gonna watch the news overnight and reevaluate in the morning. I might have to leave early, and you might want to evacuate.”
“Has the church flooded before?”
“No, but the electricity could be out for a few weeks, and I wouldn’t want to stay around for that.”
“Hmmm.” She pushed her chair in and leaned forward. I kept my gaze on her eyes, but my peripheral vision was deep in her cleavage.
“Why don’t you use your magical celibate bits to ask God to send this storm somewhere else?”
“Bits?” I balked while she cackled. “They’re not ‘bits,’ thank you very much. What’s the opposite of a bit?” I scrounged around in my brain. “Lots. They’re lots .”
She nodded with her eyes closed. “Yeah. Sure. Okay. Goodnight, Jason.”
“Night!” I called after her. “Hey, mind if I take a shower when you’re done?” A cold one.
She popped her head back in. “Nope. I’ll text you when I’m out.”
“Sorry I never thought about having to walk through your bedroom at night. I have content lined up for a few weeks now and I just knocked out a custom, so I’ll make that bathroom in the church my priority starting tomorrow.”
She smiled. “I don’t mind. It makes me feel less alone.” She walked off humming down the hallway, completely unaware that she’d turned my whole evening around.