Page 10

Chapter ten

Hayley

After our successful dumpster dinner, Jake and I have gone on a series of unconventional dates. They’ve been the best goddamn dates of my life.

We spent an evening going through his thrift shop and picking out outfits to make the other person try on, which ended up with him spending the rest of our night in a sequined mini dress that made his thick thighs look unreasonably good, and me in a wizard costume three sizes too big, while we ate all our favorite snacks.

One afternoon, he took me out to a super creepy looking shed in the woods, but he made a point of telling his friends over at the game shop where we were going ahead of time so I wouldn’t think it was a lure to murder me. Turns out it’s where he keeps his still. He taught me how he makes moonshine, explaining that it was a tradition his grandpa taught him, and we spent so long out there talking about our families that it grew dark and we laid out under the stars, discussing what might be out there in the universe while we held hands.

I picked today’s activity, and it’s turning out to be the strangest and best one yet.

I gesture toward Jake, who is sitting next to me on the tan couch, as the man in the chair across from us peers at me over his glasses. “So then I told him very politely, if you put your dirty socks on the couch one more time instead of picking them up, I’ll be really upset,” I say with an exasperated sigh.

Jake shakes his head and scoffs. “No, you said you’d ‘murder me if you see my fucking socks on the motherfucking couch one more goddamn time.’”

I resist the urge to laugh at his colorful language, pinching my thigh hard and grimacing. “Well, if you’d stop putting them there and driving me crazy, I wouldn’t have had to yell at you,” I grumble back.

The marriage counselor across from us nods and looks down to scribble something in his notebook, and I use the opportunity to flash Jake a delighted grin. He smiles back, squeezing my thigh for a second before pulling it back and crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at me as the counselor looks back up.

“It seems like there’s a breakdown in communication that’s causing a lot of stress,” the bearded, bespectacled man across from us says with a placid look.

“You can say that,” Jake replies with a humorless laugh. “Last time she got mad at me, she put a bunch of creepy baby dolls in my office. One of them was holding a note that said ‘if you don’t take out the trash, we’re going to take you out.’”

His words startle a laugh out of me, which I try to cover with a loud scoff, and Jake’s dark brown eyes sparkle with amusement he can’t hide behind his fake glare.

“It got you to take the trash out, didn’t it, sweetheart?” I reply, my voice overly saccharine.

“Hmm,” the counselor says, pretending to consider the situation, but I caught how wide his eyes got when Jake mentioned the dolls. “Jake, how did that make you feel, when Hayley put the dolls in your office?”

Jake looks at me and hesitates. I can tell he’s fighting a smile, and I nudge him with my thigh. “Yeah, how did it make the big man baby feel? You gonna cry to him about how awful your wife is? The woman who sold her virtue to get you out of your gambling debt? The woman who paid for all of your penis piercings even though I hate the way they look?! But no, I’m the monster because I put dolls in your office!”

Jake buries his face in his hands, his chest heaving. “Y-you know I h-had that incident in the doll factory as a kid.”

I laugh, trying to make my amusement sound derisive, and shake my head.

The counselor looks between us, aghast and deeply confused. He doesn’t even glance at the clock as he sets his pad of paper down. “Right, okay. I think we did some good work here today, but that’s our time.”

Jake sits up, wiping real tears away from his face, which is red from laughing so hard. I can barely look at him as I shake the therapist’s hand, then stand and hold my hand up to Jake. “Come on, pookie, let’s go get some ice cream.”

Jake brightens and we casually walk out of the office hand in hand, both of us managing to make it all the way back inside Jake’s car before bursting out into laughter.

“Holy shit, that was even better than I’d imagined,” I say, more than a little shocked by what we just did.

Jake asked me if there was anything strange I’d ever wanted to do for a date, which is how we ended up in Dr. Harper’s office, pretending to be a dysfunctional couple. If I’d told anyone I’d dated in the past about that idea, they would’ve looked at me like I was crazy, but Jake let out one of his deep, sexy laughs and asked if I wanted help booking the appointment.

He’s amazing like that. It’s exhilarating to have someone who not only understands my strange sense of humor, but who embraces it and takes it to the next level with his own silliness. That he happens to be a big, sexy shifter with a wicked smile is an added bonus.

A wicked smile which is currently directed at me, making my clit throb in time with my pulse.

“That was epic. You were incredible. I almost lost it like five times. When you said the thing about paying off my gambling debts, I almost peed myself.”

“What about you and the dolls?” I ask, both of us laughing hard again.

Jake shakes his head and glances back toward the office building. “I’d feel bad for the guy, but the co-pay for the session was high enough that I doubt he cared. ”

I nod, appreciating that Jake thinks about how our fun would’ve impacted the counselor. “Yeah, same. I don’t think we need to go back for another session, so he’s safe from us.”

“Unless I leave the socks on the couch and forget to take out the trash,” Jake deadpans.

“Exactly, pookie,” I tease back. “Don’t make me break out the dolls again.”

Jake pretends to shudder, and I place a hand on the back of his neck and lean over the console toward him. Our lips meet and all the fun and excitement from our fake marriage counseling transforms into a thrumming desire.

God, he’s such a good kisser. Jake kisses me like I’m meant to be savored for hours. Like he’d be happy to kiss me forever, if I let him. Though, I’ve caught a glimpse of the massive bulge in his pants a few times, so I’m sure he’d also like to do more.

Neither one of us has pushed us past kissing yet. Not even any tit fondling or ass grabbing, as much as I’d be down for that. Hell, if he wanted to fuck me right here in this parking lot in broad daylight, I’d go with it. But something is holding Jake back, so I don’t push. We’ll get there eventually, and it’s kind of fun not to rush into bed. I had to buy a new vibrator and have been using it twice a day, but it’s fun.

Jake inhales deeply, and lets out a soft groan, his fingers tightening on my arm for a moment before he eases back, eyes gleaming gold and cheeks flushed .

“Well, wife , care to go get that ice cream? I don’t come to Stonebridge often, but I’ve heard good things about a place over in Mulberry Plaza.”

My ovaries threaten to explode at him using the word “wife” for me, but I hide what it does to me with a laugh. “Sure. I’m always down to get ice cream with my infuriating fake husband.”

I have to put the word “fake” on there so I don’t sound too eager about calling him my husband. I’m the one who told him I wanted things to evolve naturally, not rush into something. But as I stare at Jake’s handsome profile as he pulls out of the parking lot, my panties wet and stomach fluttering, it’s hard to keep my heart guarded.

I’m on my own tonight, since Jake is busy playing D&D with his friends. He offered to skip it and take me out, but he’s apparently missed it a couple times recently, so I didn’t want to be the source of frustrations with his gaming group.

Besides, I need a night without Jake to think.

We’ve been dating for three weeks. Three of the wackiest, most wonderful weeks in my life. When I’m around him, there’s a potent mix of bubbly new relationship excitement and an innate comfort that his presence evokes. Jake just feels right .

Yeah, he’s weird as fuck, but he’s the funniest, kindest man I’ve ever met. And not only that, but he looks at me like I matter. Like he cares about my opinions and is genuinely listening and interested when I tell him about myself. Like I’m not just a pretty girl to fool around with and then move on.

It’s only been three weeks, but I’m falling for him. Hard.

I wish I had some friends to talk to so I could run things by someone who isn’t besotted, but after my breakup, I lost everyone close to me. I’ve called Aunt Betsy a few times, but every time she had so many exciting updates to share about her honeymoon adventures that I didn’t bring up Jake. My parents aren’t an option because they already weren’t thrilled with me moving to a town populated by monsters, so the thought of me dating one might give them a heart attack.

I’m all alone with my ever-increasing attraction to Jake, and I’m more than a little worried I’m going to mess things up. What if once we run out of silly date ideas, he realizes I don’t have any substance? We’ve had serious, deep conversations, but sometimes it feels like Jake is holding part of himself back.

It could be nothing, but my mind can’t let it go. There’s something he’s not telling me, and I’m worried that whatever it is will burst my bubble of happiness and I’ll go back to being even lonelier than I was before I met him.

Feeling restless, I decide to do a deep-clean of my aunts’ place and try to get rid of the incense smell once and for all. With music blasting in my earbuds and hands busy with a scrubber, I’m able to quiet my mind for a bit.

Hours and two full trash bags later, I’m heading out to the dumpster, sweaty but less stressed. It’s hard to worry about the guy you’re dating when you’re trying not to pass out from bleach fumes.

It’s late, but the lights are still off at Jake’s place, which is good because I don’t want him stumbling upon me out here looking like a hot mess. I toss the bags into the dumpster and turn around to head back inside, when I see a shape at the end of the alley.

A small, chunky, four-legged shape.

“It’s you!” I whisper-shout in delight.

I thought maybe I’d hallucinated the close encounter with my panty bandit, but here he is again.

Crouching down, I make little noises of encouragement like you would with a cat, even though I have no idea if raccoons respond to that kind of thing.

It looks at me for a long moment, like it can’t decide if it wants to bolt or come closer, eyes glittering in the dim glow of the string lights that are still up from the other night.

“Whatever you want to do is fine, buddy,” I murmur. “I’d love to cuddle again if you don’t sniff my crotch, but if you’re nervous, you don’t have to.”

The raccoon scratches at its chest with its weird, dextrous fingers, and though I know it doesn’t understand what I said, it still looks like it’s considering.

“You’re so freaking cute,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the adorable creature.

Maybe that’s what helps it decide. More likely, it smells the half-eaten candy bar in my jacket pocket. Either way, the raccoon moves closer and more glee rises in me .

I feel like a trashy version of a Disney princess with my ability to bond with this raccoon, and honestly, it tracks. I’m a weird trash panda at heart, too.

“Hey, buddy,” I say, giggling when it gets close enough for me to offer my hand out to it and it headbutts against it, snuffling like it’s looking for food.

I shake my head and hold my other hand out for it to inspect. “Sorry, I don’t have anything.” I know I should probably be worried about this raccoon being rabid and biting or scratching me, but it’s so cute and fluffy and sweet that I throw caution to the wind again.

It huffs almost derisively, and makes a beeline for my pocket, using its grabby little paws to dig inside and extract the candy bar before I can push it away. It takes the candy and moves back a few steps, staring at me with its cute little masked face, like it’s worried I’m going to take the food back.

“I’m not sure if you’re supposed to eat that, but I’m not going to stop you.” I laugh as it shoves it into its mouth, spitting out the wrapper and letting it fall to the ground.

When my raccoon friend is done with its treat, I expect it to scurry away, but it approaches me again.

I shake my head. “Sorry, cutie, but now I really don’t have anything.”

The raccoon stares at me like it’s assessing the truth of my words, little nose working as it sniffs the air. A moment later, it paws at my knees and I sit down on the asphalt so it can climb into my lap. Yeah, this alley isn’t the cleanest, but I’m already all sweaty and gross and you don’t give up the opportunity to snuggle with a raccoon .

I stroke a hand through its soft and surprisingly clean fur, marveling at this strange, wonderful situation. “If we’re going to hang out like this, I should give you a name so I don’t keep thinking of you as ‘it’ or ‘that pervy raccoon’.”

The raccoon in question doesn’t react to my words other than to paw a little at the hem of my jacket.

“Hmm…” I continue to card my fingers through its fur, eyeing its adorably fluffy tail longingly but knowing most animals don’t like having their tails touched. “I don’t know if you’re a boy or a girl, and I don’t really want to check.”

It huffs out a sigh like it agrees with that decision.

I smile down at the creature as I think. “You know, I always wanted a pet as a kid, but we moved too much for it to make sense. Not that you’re my pet! But I had a whole list of name ideas, so maybe one of those will work.”

The raccoon rolls over onto its back and stares up and me and I almost die from cuteness overload. It scratches at its chest again and seems to be waiting for me to keep talking.

“You don’t look like a Princess Woofles… maybe, Marshmallow? No, that would work better for a big fluffy white animal. Oh! What about Bandit? Or is that too on the nose?”

The raccoon yawns, clearly disinterested in determining its name.

“Okay, you can be Bandit for now. I’ll have to ask Jake and see if he has any better name ideas.” As soon as I say my handsome neighbor’s name, my chest squeezes and my eyes dart up toward his window, which is still dark .

Maybe by the time Bandit leaves and I get back inside to take a quick shower, Jake will be done with game night and I can bring him over some late night snacks.

Or maybe I could be a little less desperate.

Bandit must sense my mood shift, because it scrambles off my lap with no preamble and meanders away into the bushes behind my building. I give it a wave goodbye, wishing it would’ve stayed longer, but knowing the longer I sat out here with a raccoon in my lap, the more likely someone would see me and then I’d become known as the weird raccoon girl.

With a sigh, I head back inside to wash off the cleaning grime and raccoon fur, wishing that Jake had been around for tonight’s magical moment.