Chapter 12 Daisy - The Laundry List #2
I watch Gus’s restraint slip right in front of me.
“Jesus Christ, no. Yes, I came to you to ask about some sort of friends with benefits situation, like the movies, or whatever. I thought it’d be mutually beneficial.
But I brought you here to get you away from that fucking mutant you call a mother.
No other motive behind it. Take a goddamn break from the theatrics, Daisy. ”
“I’m just reviewing the optics of the situation, August.”
Gus wags a finger at me. “Careful, Daze. You look like Mary Jane in this light.”
The accusation feels like a slap to the face. “Take it back,” I demand.
“Nope.” Gus pops the P, and irritates me in a way no one else is capable of.
“Whatever,” I say in defeat. “Fine. I flew off the handle. I’m just kind of caught off guard.
And I’m not saying no—” I mull things over.
No-strings-attached sex with one person does sound sort of…
nice. And while I can’t definitively label what we are, this could work. Maybe. “We need to add to our rules.”
“What, are you going to make me sign a contract?” Gus scoffs.
“That’s not the worst idea, actually.” I reach down and pull the notebook out of my tote bag.
“Daisy, I’m not signing a sex contract.” He swipes a hand down his face.
“Why not? This way there’s no grey area. We can just do…whatever—be safe, get off, and then be on our separate ways.”
I open up to a fresh page of lined paper and uncap my pen. I cheekily title the top Laundry List.
Gus leans over to inspect, the breath from his laugh reaches the side of my neck, and I feel goosebumps break out across the small bit of exposed skin. “Ha, okay, wait—That’s good. I like that.”
Pretending his praise has no effect on me, I start writing out the first bullet point. My most important rule.
No kissing.
“I still don’t entirely agree with that one,” Gus adds.
“And I still don’t care.” I move on to number two.
Not a soul can know.
“Ah, yes. Because I was planning on actually using this arrangement as my first post online. Y’know, really start off with a bang.” Gus’s commentary earns him a giggle from me. I hate that he’s funny.
“Do you have anything you’d like to add?” I offer him the pen.
Gus takes the notebook and pen, positioning the notebook on the steering wheel so he can write. He takes several minutes to finish whatever he deems important for this list of rules, and then wordlessly hands it back to me to inspect.
His handwriting still sucks, but it’s always been legible to me. He’s added three bullet points.
Safe word: Shrimp
Okay…sure.
I’m not sharing.
He underlined that one.
You gotta sleep over.
“You know I need clarification on literally all of these, right?” I confirm.
“Sure. I just didn’t…I didn’t want to be too specific just in case someone found your precious list.”
Oh. Well, that was honestly really smart. “Proceed,” I tell Gus.
“A safe word is kind of non-negotiable. You need to feel secure in anything we do. I picked shrimp because…It’s dumb. We can change it, use a regular one. Just not stop because that one isn’t very safe in my opinion.”
“You picked shrimp for Bubba Gump Shrimp, didn’t you?” I interrupt.
His cheeks go pink again. “I thought it was funny.”
It has nothing to do with the fact that it’s your favorite movie, Daisy. Get it together.
A small smile finds its way onto my face. “It is. Shrimp’s good with me. Onto the next,” I urge Gus to continue.
His face hardens. “While we’re doing this, it’s just me and you. I’m not into sharing.”
“Really? I pegged you as a threesome kind of guy,” I tease. Although, I really wouldn’t be surprised if he was into it. Or has been a participant, or—I don’t want to visualize that, actually.
“Nah. Not my thing,” Gus says. “I’m not into pegging either, for the record. To each their own, but no, thank you. What I really meant is, I won’t be sleeping with anyone else outside of this arrangement. And I’m asking the same of you in return.”
Does he actually think I have a mile-long roster I can fuck my way through? “Yeah, Gus. No one else. Got it.”
“Cool,” he sighs. “Alright, last one, the big one. I don’t feel good about giving you the boot after we’re done. I have a spare bedroom if you want it. But really, Daze, I’m not cool with you leaving as soon as we get cleaned up.”
That’s a lot more than I thought this would be. “Is this a regular thing for you?”
I watch Gus’s mouth open and close, clearly ruminating on how to answer my latest follow up question.
“No, actually. I’ve never had anyone spend the night. Unless you count the one time a woman slept over without my permission. She was weird. It’s…different. With you.” Every word drips with honesty, so much so that I suck in a breath.
“Do you want to elaborate on that? Because to me, it sounds like there’s some unpacking we might need to do before we can do…whatever it is we want to do. No pegging, of course,” I add to lighten the mood.
The joke doesn’t land, unfortunately. Gus remains steely serious.
“I couldn’t tell you a single fact about any of the other women I’ve slept with.
I’m not bragging, I’m not proud of it or whatever.
I don’t think it makes me a bad guy either though.
Because I’ve always been upfront. But Daisy, shit.
I know you. Or, I did. I still do? It’s confusing as fuck to me, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if this was completely transactional.
You can say we’re not friends, whatever makes you feel better, but—”
“Okay,” I say, gently placing my hand on top of his. I have to admit to myself that my perception of our strained relationship might not have been the whole truth. But currently, I can’t bear diving into specifics.
Gus turns his hand over to hold mine. The move is so delicate. Light. Featherlike.
“Is there anything else you think we should add?” he asks, his tone changing slightly.
The air in this truck becomes stifling. I shift in my seat and pull at the fabric of my skirt to adjust.
“Uh, no. I think that covers things.” I flip the pages closed. Gus reaches out to grab the notebook, and tosses it to the floor.
“And you’re staying over tonight?” Gus questions, his massive body taking up so much space. And yet, he’s still able to lean further into me.
Inches. Fucking inches separate us. The hand not holding mine reaches below my skirt, grazing my skin up my calf to my thigh.
“Well, I told Mary Jane I wasn’t coming home,” I think out loud. Gus grips my thigh, shifting me until my back leans into the passenger side door, my feet still resting on the bench seat.
“Say yes,” Gus commands, and my body betrays me by agreeing immediately. My insides light up like the freaking Fourth of July. A devilish smile breaks out across his face.
I’m so screwed.
“Yes.”