chapter six Never Fake a Laughan Orgasm
chapter six
Never Fake a Laugh or an Orgasm
This guy’s whole personality seems to revolve around the fact that he’s six foot four and has the muscles of someone who’s
second job is working out.
I’m probably an outlier in the female dating pool who doesn’t particularly like tall dudes, or lots of muscles, and this guy
is the perfect example of why. The whole time we’ve been sitting outside this taco truck eating chips and guac, he’s talked
about nothing except his extensive fitness routine that takes two hours to complete. He does not mention his obvious steroid
use. I’m regretting my choice for my date already, but with Lex sitting two tables over, peeking over the edge of her fairy
book to keep an eye out for evidence of my curse, I force myself to smile and nod as he describes how often married women
check him out at the gym.
“I don’t blame them, though. These days it’s rare to find a guy like me, someone who is willing to put in the time and effort to be a real, masculine man.
Most guys these days are such simps.” Tall this is barely scratching the surface. If she wants proof, scientific proof, I have to keep this charade going a little longer. The curse needs more time to kick in, and for that to happen things
needs things to escalate. I have to push through.
Clearing my throat, I rest my elbows on the table and flutter my eyelashes at Tall I find it a bit belittling. “I can do it myself. I’m a big strong
girl.”
He gives his head a shake. “I could bench double your weight. Probably triple. How much do you weigh?”
I’m not falling for it. “I’m sure you could. So! This is where you live?”
Tall & Buff lets the conversation shift away from the very personal and inappropriate question and begins guiding me toward
the front door of his complex. I look around, but can’t see Lex anywhere. She probably had to park down the block.
Wait a second . . . how is she going to know what awkward stuff happens in his place? I really didn’t think this through.
“Can you give me a minute?” I ask Tall & Buff. “I just have to check in with my friend.”
“Of course,” he says, taking a step back and waiting.
I turn away from him and open my phone, then dial Lex’s number. She answers halfway through the first ring with a string of
questions and several expletives.
“Don’t talk. Just listen,” I whisper. “I’ll give you all the proof you need, you little skeptic.”
I mute her and tuck the phone into my back pocket with the microphone sticking out so she can hear before following Tall &
Buff into his place.
It’s a modern apartment, clean and well-kept. We haven’t discussed what he does for work, but whatever it is, it pays well.
The vibe in the elevator on the ride up is a bit uncomfortable, but Lex wouldn’t accept that as evidence of the curse. I have
to keep him talking. Unfortunately, we make normal non-awkward conversation all the way up to his unit. Despite his reference
to Andrew Tate, he seems pleasant and normal. Asshole.
Once we get inside his place, things take a drastic turn.
“Wow,” I say, speaking loud enough for Lex to hear. “That’s a lot of taxidermy.”
Tall & Buff reaches up to stroke the cheek of an elk whose antlers have been repurposed as a hat hanger. “Yep. This one’s
Tyler Durden.” He points to another victim on the opposite wall of his entryway. “That one’s Marla. They like to stare at
each other.” He laughs at his morbid joke.
I step further into his apartment, but he stops me with a raised hand. “Shoes.”
It’s an order, not a request. Usually, I wouldn’t hesitate to remove my footwear upon entering someone’s home, but something
about this guy’s fascination with dead animals has me contemplating a quick escape. “I can’t keep my shoes on?”
“I’m kind of a neat freak,” Tall & Buff explains, standing in the middle of his hall and blocking me like an overly strict
nightclub bouncer.
I wish I’d worn slip-ons. I bend down and unlace my pink Converse, then pull them off, setting them by the door next to his
giant boots. As I do, I take note of exactly zero specks of dust on his immaculate white tile, no scuffs on his baseboard
trim, and his boots look like they’ve never stepped foot off asphalt despite the evidence of his hunting abilities.
Maybe he has all his hunting gear in storage, along with freezers full of the carcasses of his kills. Hopefully those freezers
only have animal carcasses. Maybe there are other things in those freezers, like the bodies of women he lures home. What if—
“Thanks for doing that,” Tall & Buff says as he steps closer, blotting out the light from the ceiling fan. A chill runs through
me. I look up to meet his gaze, and the way he looks back down, it definitely feels like I could be one of those poor animals
hanging on his wall next.
“Of course,” I say, smiling through my discomfort.
“Wine or beer?” he asks as he leads me down the corridor to his living area.
“Do you have any club soda?”
He eyes me like I’ve grown a second head. “No.”