7. Chapter Six
The jarring sound of my alarm going off wakes me with a start. I sit up as I gasp for breath. My head feels a bit cloudy. My heart is racing. I turn, glaring at my alarm when a low aching throb begins to pulse in my temple.
I snag the alarm, rip the plug from the socket, then throw it across the room. It smashes against the wall; the loud obnoxious beeping slows until it finally stops.
Dead.
I’ve been known to be a really kind guy. I’ve given the shirt off my back before. I’ve bought coffee for people I don’t know. I’ve donated. I’ve built homes for others that aren’t as fortunate as I am. I’ve gotten calls in the early morning from friends who need help or a ride.
I’m there.
But I am not a morning person. I hate mornings.
It’s wild to me that people have to get up early for work. Whoever made that rule deserves a punch in the face.
I’m more of a noon to eight kind of guy. It’s why Rhett lets me work behind the desk for a few hours when I get there. I’m not a fully functioning human being until my second cup of coffee. I buy alarm clocks in bulk because I end up breaking more than three a week.
I tried the alarm on my phone twice and that was two times more than I wanted to dish out funds for a phone. It’s cheaper to buy alarm clocks.
Rubbing my eyes with the palm of my hands, I yawn, stretching my arms above my head. My shoulders pop and I groan, cracking my neck next. I inhale, smelling the brew of my coffee lingering in the air from the kitchen.
I love automatic programming.
Snagging the edge of the blanket, I rip it off and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. As I stretch my back, I cock my head to the side when I see one of my lightbulbs is broken.
“When the hell did I do that?” My voice is raspy with sleep and my mind still isn’t clear enough for me to remember how I did that.
I sidestep the broken glass on the floor, stumbling my way into the bathroom. My hand slaps the wall searching for the light switch. Once, twice, finally, I find it and flip it on. I wince from the light.
I close my eyes while I brush my teeth, needing a few more seconds of shut-eye. I don’t bother to rinse my mouth out when I’m done. I’ll do it in the shower.
Some people might find this odd, but I sit down while I use the restroom, so piss doesn’t get everywhere. It’s gross to me. If I stand to do my business, splashes of urine and water go everywhere. Gross.
And I wipe.
Because why would shaking it be enough? I don’t want to walk around with piss dribbling out of my dick. I’d rather just deal with it when I’m going.
Call me crazy, but I rather like that my bathroom and I don’t reek of piss.
Finally, I make my way to the shower. I’m still half asleep and can’t walk in a straight line. Why is waking up so hard? I don’t even see which button I press to turn the shower on, but whatever I hit, it worked. The hot shower spray is instant, and I slip under the spray, closing my eyes to relax and enjoy the warmth.
As the water runs down my body, the dream I had last night comes back to me in pieces.
It was a dream with Holly.
Wild.
I tilt my head back, the water running down my face like tears, and the image of her on top of me in her van has my cock hardening. I readjust my stance, a slight ache in my ass for some reason.
Pausing, I think back to everything I did yesterday, but I can’t think of one thing that would hurt me there.
Maybe I played with myself in my sleep from the wet dream I had. I wouldn’t be surprised. That was the hottest fucking thing that has ever entered my mind. When her tentacles gripped around my cock, milking me, massaging me, I lost it. Her horns felt so good in my hands. Her wings were silky smooth.
And her nipple rings?
“Fucking hell,” I groan.
I have no time to enjoy all these replays. I need to get going. The shop opens in two hours and there’s plenty I have to do.
Snagging my shampoo, which my sister got me, or I wouldn’t use this fancy shit, I squirt it onto my head, then lather. I wash it free, loving how the light coming through the window reflects the different colors in the grey bubbles. There is almost an iridescent sheen, reminding me of what happens when light meets oil.
Next, I scrub my body.
And that’s when I notice it.
There are thick black lines on my cock, veining out where my pubic hair is, and one of the very tips swirls up and stops at my mid-hip bone.
“What the fuck is that? What is that?” I shout, using my loofah to scrub the spot.
I rinse the bubbles off and it’s still there.
“This is wild. What the fuck happened to me? What is this? Is this a joke?” And then it hits me. “That mother fucker.” I bet he broke into my house in ghost form and played a sick joke with a permanent marker.
I never thought I’d sleep through another man drawing on my dick, which now that I think of it, I know he wouldn’t do. I don’t know another option, though. How did this mark just appear out of nowhere? This wasn’t here yesterday.
I don’t bother washing off the suds from my body. I run out of the shower, water dripping from my body onto the floors. I slip, catching myself on the corner of the vanity.
“This can’t be real. This isn’t real,” I mutter in panic, snagging a towel off the rack.
There is no condensation on the mirror because the bathroom door is open. Only a little at the very top since heat rises.
“Holy fucking shit!” I shout at the top of my lungs, staring at my dick’s reflection.
It’s still there.
I scrub my skin with the towel. “Come on. Come on. This isn’t funny. I swear to God, I’m going to kill Rhett. I’m going to kill him.” He’ll probably kill me first before I have a chance to charge but at least I tried.
This mark isn’t coming off.
I toss the towel on the floor and stare at my reflection again. I comb my fingers through my hair, taking a deep breath as I try to calm down.
“Wild. Fucking wild.” I tug on the roots of my hair. “There’s no other way to explain it and there has to be an explanation as to why I suddenly have a tattoo on my fucking cock.” I yell at my dick, wondering how it got itself in this position.
How I got myself into this position.
With angry steps, I stomp my way to the bedroom, snatching my phone from the nightstand. I don’t care how early it is. Rhett is going to hear from me.
I click his name in my phone and press call, placing him on speaker. Five rings sound before he finally answers.
“Do you know what time it is?” He yawns. “Everything alright? You never call this early.”
“No. Everything is not alright, Rhett. I need you to be honest with me. Do not lie.”
“Fitz, what’s going on?” My best friend sounds more serious, the sleepy tone of his voice replaced with concern in an instant.
“Did you shift into your ghost, break into my house, and draw something on my dick?”
Silence falls between us before a loud laugh has me tugging the phone away because the speaker crackles.
While he laughs, I open the nightstand drawer, pull out a pen and paper, and start writing the names of all the girls who thought my cock was too short. I have no idea why. I just know I need to. The satisfying rip of the page from the pad can’t even be heard over my best friend’s laughter.
I slap the note on the nightstand, trying to figure out along with everything else why I needed to do that.
“Rhett, I’m serious. This isn’t funny. I can’t get it off. I’ve scrubbed it until the skin is raw. I just need to know if you did it.”
His laughter dies and he becomes more serious. “It won’t come off? At all? Not even a little?”
“No. Nothing. I’m worried, man. I need to go to the doctor to make sure everything is okay. I don’t have any clients coming in today. Their cars are at the shop already. I’ll get to the garage, but I’ll be a few hours late. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Listen, I don’t know what is going on, but I wouldn’t break into your house when I have a very pregnant wife who is about to give birth to twins. I wouldn’t leave her alone at night. And I love you like a brother, but I’m not drawing on your dick.”
I’m not sure why I release a long breath of relief. I knew in my heart he wouldn’t do that to me but since it wasn’t Rhett, I’m at a loss.
“I don’t know, man. It’s wild. Maybe I did it. A lightbulb is broken too, the one hanging near the wall by my bed.”
“Maybe. Don’t worry about the shop. It will be fine for the day. Take care of yourself and keep me updated.”
I nod, forgetting he can’t see me. “Yeah, I will.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing. Okay? Don’t borrow worry when you don’t have all the facts.”
“Yeah, yeah—” I clear my throat. “Okay, go back to sleep. I’ll let you know when I have updates.” I hang up the phone, my heart thudding in my chest with fear.
I can’t help but spiral and think of the worst. What if I have that flesh-eating disease? On my dick? That’s a stupid thought. It wouldn’t look like this… would it? I don’t know.
My body is still damp when I throw on sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. I don’t even bother with my coffee. Nothing is going to slow me down from getting to the doctor. I slide my phone into my pocket, then run down the steps so fast, that I miss the last stair, and run right into the front door.
“I hate mornings,” I grumble, pushing myself away from the door.
My jaw aches. My cheek is red from the hit but the only thing that would stop me from getting to the doctor is if I died. I grab my keys from the coffee table, slip on my boots without tying the laces, and I’m out the damn door.
It’s a chilly morning with fog heavy in the air, rolling in from the lake. It’s quiet. Peaceful.
Unlike me, right now.
Morning dew sticks to the blades of grass. The green is slowly fading to brown from the chill swooping in and preparing for winter.
I press my forehead against the window of my truck. It’s cool and a bit slick from condensation but it feels good. I take big deep breaths. I’m blowing this out of proportion. Everything is fine. I’m acting like this for no reason other than the fact it’s morning and the mark caught me by surprise.
Other than that, I had a great night. Hell, I had the best night of sleep I have ever had. If I think about Holly scraping her nails down my chest, the light purple hue of her skin, and her horns protruding out of her forehead, the panic is gone and replaced with desire.
Holy shit.
I’ve made up a monster in my head because I want her so badly.
“Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.” I thud my forehead against the window, unlock the door, and jump in the driver’s seat.
It only takes a second for me to peel out of the driveway, take a peek at Holly’s house, and drive away. The further I get from home, the more my stomach twists. My mind is consumed by this image of Holly that I’ve created. It isn’t fair to her. I’m completely changing her image to suit what I crave.
I have to stay away from her. It’s the only way these thoughts will end. Damn it, I love all the thoughts, though. She’s so fucking beautiful. She is prettier than a sunset by the lake. All the shades of red, oranges, yellows, and purples hold no flame to her.
The monster, that is. I don’t have feelings for human Holly.
“You’re a damn wreck, Fitz.” I peek in the rearview mirror and point at myself. “Get your shit together.” I slap my cheek to give me a sharp wake-up call.
What’s sad is I can’t even say this isn’t like me. I’ve always liked the unusual. I’ve always appreciated someone’s quirks. The little gestures and odd things that make them, them.
I know I say the word ‘wild’ too much, but it’s such a perfect thing to say to pretty much anything.
Someone had a baby? That’s wild.
Someone die? That’s wild.
Someone dreams of a monster fucking them with tentacles? Also, wild.
I pass the gorgeous mountains as I drive down Main Street. The town looks deserted. There isn’t a person in sight. The fog creeping gives an eerie appearance as if the entire town has been abandoned.
I pass Demi’s Diner. The bright pink neon sign is on. It’s the one place anyone can go any time of day for peace and a nice cup of coffee. Maybe I’ll go there after I see the doctor.
If I’m feeling lucky, maybe Demi can add a little something extra to the cup to help my mind ease.
A few minutes longer of following the same road, the urgent care comes up on the right. Putting on my blinker, I turn into the empty parking lot, but I know they are open. They always open at six in the morning.
I grip the steering wheel before pressing my forehead against it, trying to calm my racing heart. I’m trying to think about what happened last night. Did I have too much to drink? I don’t think I drank but it’s the only explanation I have for not remembering a damn thing that could explain this mark.
Unless…
I pinch the bridge of my nose, knowing the thought that just entered my mind is impossible.
What if I do have my own monster?
“You’re losing your fucking mind. That’s too wild of a thought. Rhett and Creed would know if there’s a monster in town. Think logically, Fitz.” Blowing out a breath, I turn off the truck, grab the door handle, and open it. “You can do this.” I step out onto the empty parking lot, and there it is again, that fucking feeling I have of someone watching me.
I rub my temples, wondering if I just need some sleep. My thoughts keep spiraling. Do I need therapy? Is something actually wrong with me?
My boots thud against the pavement with every determined stride. The undone laces drag on the pavement, tempting me to trip over myself. If I do, fuck it, I’m already at urgent care.
What’s a blow to the face after noticing an odd mark on my dick? This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.
I run smack into the automatic sliding glass doors.
That is the second time I’ve hit my face in a thirty-minute period and I’m starting to get annoyed at doors.
Stepping away, I rub the side of my cheek, and then the doors open. I clench my fists, wanting nothing more than to punch the glass but knowing my luck today, I’d break my hand.
Entering through the doors, I wipe my boots on the very used cheap rug. The soles squeak on the tile floor, the bright fluorescents gleaming off the freshly polished white squares. The waiting room is quiet with only dozens of empty blue cushioned chairs.
A few TVs play different shows in every corner and there is a small play area for children on the left side of the room.
A sterile hospital scent hits my nose. I swallow so loud, that the person behind the desk looks up at me, smiling.
His name tag says Archie.
“Well, good morning. I didn’t even hear you come in. How can I help you?” He grins so earnestly that it is hard not to remain a grouch.
“I need to see a doctor.”
He snickers, typing on the keyboard. “Of course you do, silly. It’s why you’re here. Have you been here before?”
“I have been. You have all my information. My name is—” I hate saying my full name. “Fitsgerald Wallsworth the Third,” I mutter.
“Wallsworth? Like the candy canes?” His eyes widen in shock.
“Yeah, listen, I’m not really part of that side of the family. So if you could not say anything, that would be great.”
He zips his lips and throws away the key. “Your secret is safe with me. Those are the best candy canes though. I am so curious what they do to them.”
“They infused the wrapper with the tiniest bit of rosemary so when you open it, you get a burst of the aroma. It makes you feel like you’re actually experiencing Christmas. That’s the secret. Can I see a doctor now please?”
He blinks at me in shock. “Um, yeah. Yes. What’s going on so I can let the doctor know?”
“I have a questionable mark.”
“She will be with you in just one moment, okay Mr. Wallsworth?”
I give him a tight smile, tapping my fingers on the front desk before turning around and taking a seat.
I don’t like talking about my family history. That’s something I keep close to my chest. I had a falling out with my family when I was eighteen. My parents and my grandparents disowned my sister for getting pregnant at sixteen with my nephew.
I chose her.
Luckily, I had been entitled to the small trust fund I had set up by my grandparents since I turned eighteen. I left home with her and never looked back. She never got her trust fund, so I gave her most of mine. I have enough to live how I need to live and so does she.
As far as our family, they are dead to us along with those damn Wallsworth Candy Canes.
I won’t be a part of a family that is full of that much hate. To disown your daughter when she needs her family most is an unforgivable act. If my parents ever knocked on my door after all these years, I would slam it in their faces.
As far as I’m concerned, my last name is just a name and holds no meaning. I’m Fitz, the mechanic. I never want to be confused with Fitz, the heir to Wallsworth Candy Canes.
That part of my life is dead to me.
“Fitsgerald?” A nurse pops her head out of the door before swinging it wide open.
I stand, raising my hand to let her know it’s me. Who else would it be? I’m the only one here.
“How are you doing?” I ask as I slip by her.
“I’m great. I need another cup of coffee,” she laughs, gesturing at me to stand on the scale.
“I need my first cup.”
She snickers and then we fall into an awkward silence as she takes my height and blood pressure and asks me a zillion questions that I’ve already answered. They should be in the computer system.
“The doctor will be right in,” she informs, leaving me alone in the patient room.
I lean back on the table, giving me time to think about other aspects of my life. I don’t know what it is about a doctor’s office that gives me an ‘impending doom’ feeling but I’m reevaluating my life choices. I don’t regret anything, but I should have moved my sister out here with me.
I didn’t even ask her. I’ll need to change that. I didn’t leave her behind the first time, so I don’t know why I did the second.
The hinges to the door creak. A doctor with long light brown hair walks in. She’s staring down at my chart, her lips moving silently as she reads.
“Hello. Hello. How are we doing, Fitsgerald?”
“Just Fitz.” I correct her. “Please,” I add, not wanting to sound like an asshole.
She lifts her eyes from the chart, the dark greens lacking spark. She seems exhausted.
“No problem, Fitz. I read in your chart that you have a mark you need looked at, is that right?”
A light sheen of sweat breaks over my body at the thought of showing my dick to her. Not just because she’s a woman but there is a voice in the back of my head that is screaming to ask for a male doctor.
“I don’t mean to sound offensive, Doctor. Is there a male physician around?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve seen everything and anything. Truly, you are safe here with me, Fitz. If that is what you’re worried about? I am the only doctor here for another few hours.”
It isn’t her ability to do her job that I’m worried about. There is a stabbing, clawing pain in my stomach that I’d be cheating on my mate.
The fake made-up monster I’ve conjured in my head. Now I think I’m cheating on someone who doesn’t even exist. I could tell the doctor right now that I need my head examined. I won’t because I want more time with my fake mate.
This is fucking wild.
I feel protective over my monster. No other woman deserves to see me naked. If it’s a doctor, surely it’s okay, right?
“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m just nervous. It has nothing to do with you not being able to do your job. I don’t think that—” I hurry to explain. “I think you’re a great doctor from what I’ve seen. Just really great. I’m lucky. I’m so lucky to have you as my doctor, but this mark is in a vulnerable spot, and I’d hate for you to have the image of my dick in your head all day. Not that you would have it in your head all day—” I bury my face in my hands. “This isn’t coming out right at all.”
“Fitz.” She pats my knee. “It’s okay to be nervous. I promise you, I’ve seen hundreds of dicks, not in a sexual way, and have happily helped these men with their issues. I truly don’t care about what your dick looks like. I want to make sure—like you do—that everything is okay. Okay?”
I feel like a teenage boy. This isn’t like me.
“Now, take a breath and tell me what happened.”
“I woke up with a weird mark on my dick and it’s freaking me out a little. I haven’t had sex in years, Doc.” My face flushes from the admission. “By choice.” I roll my eyes, wishing I could keep my mouth shut.
I tug the front of my sweatpants down. “See? What is that? I don’t know. I can’t tell you. It wasn’t there yesterday.”
She leans in, pressing her gloved hands along the black lines. “It doesn’t hurt?”
“No. No pain. I haven’t gotten a tattoo. I don’t know what this is.”
“It doesn’t look questionable to me.” She rolls her chair away, shucking off her gloves.
I pull up my pants and point to myself. “Not questionable? I have nothing but questions.”
“Sometimes as we age, things change. I’m thinking it’s a birthmark. We will keep an eye on it. I want some bloodwork to see if anything has changed but other than that, I think you’re fine.”
I blink at her in confusion. “There’s nothing to be done?”
“No. I think it’s an odd development but that’s it.”
That’s it.
Why doesn’t that make me feel any better than when I walked in?
“Thanks.” I don’t bother to hide my disappointment.
“If you need anything else, you know where to find me. You’re free to go. I’ll have the nurse out front give you the referral for bloodwork.”
“I appreciate it. Thanks for your help.” I scrub my face with my hands, suddenly exhausted from all the mental gymnastics I’ve done since I rolled out of bed this morning.
“I promise, Fitz. It isn’t anything to concern yourself about. I feel good about that decision. If I feel good about it, let it bring you some peace.”
I nod, inhaling and exhaling as deep as I can. “You’re right. Thanks for your help. I’m sorry for all my rambling or if I sounded like an ass.”
“I understand. Showing any part of yourself physically to someone is odd and unsettling. Your discomfort is natural. Also, the image of your genitals is not in my head and has already been forgotten.” She closes her chart. “Once you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.”
We both laugh, easing the tension that is one hundred percent coming from me.
“Have a good day. I’ll call you when I get your bloodwork results in. Okay?”
“Okay. Yeah, thanks.” I hop off the table as soon as the doctor leaves the room.
A low growl sounds from the back corner. I spin around, staring from one end of the wall to the other.
I’m at a doctor’s office. It’s probably the sound of a machine. I walk out of the room, down the hall, and through the waiting room. I give a small wave to the guy managing the desk and he gives a very happy grin in return.
I stop in front of the doors, learning my lesson from the first time, and the doors open. At least I saved myself from another sore cheek.
When I step outside, I inhale the fresh air, letting it settle in my lungs, and release the pent-up breath.
I feel very different today than I did yesterday. I’m protective of the dream Holly I’ve imagined. Possessive, if I want to be honest. I could have told the doctor the whole truth but that would mean losing the girl of my dreams.
I’m not ready for that. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready for it.
“What the fuck?” I glance around to see if anyone else is in the parking lot. It’s empty.
In the condensation on my driver’s window, two words are written:
Doe Eyes.
“Funny. Hilarious.” I wipe the words away with my hand and open the door. I’ve always been told I had feminine eyes. I get compliments all the time about them but some days, like today, it’s more like a curse than a blessing.
Usually, I’ll bat the hell out of my lashes and ask for a fucking drink to play along with the joke.
Not today.
Too much has happened, and too many questions are left unanswered for me to have a happy bone in my body.
And that’s just wild because I love being happy.
Today, happiness is taking a backseat. Something is going on with me, and I intend to find out.