Page 36 of Pretend You Love Me

She huffs.

“Self-righteous. Hypocritical,” I continue.

“I don’t even know what that means.” Her hands are on her hips. Her eyes are blazing. “Are we talking about the same book?”

I inhale deeply. “I’m no literary critic.”

“Clearly.”

We stand in silence for a moment.

“I know someone who went to school with him.” As soon as she says this, she knows she’s revealed too much. She has my interest now.

“Really? Who?” I ask.

She darts her eyes away from mine and says, “Friend of a friend. Doesn’t matter. He went to Harvard. Just someone I know knows someone that graduated with him.”

My eyebrow is arched. I’d love to know more about this.

“Anyway, they said he was a nice guy, that’s all,” she mutters. She’s looking down like she’s afraid I’ll read her thoughts. I really wish I could right now.

“It’s not my favorite of his. I know it’s the most popular, butMoonshineis better,” she changes the subject back to the book.

“I don’t disagree with that,” I mutter, and then I start to scan the shelves. “How about you read something really good? Graham Greene? Walker Percy?”

I grab books from the shelf and hand them to her.She makes a pile on the table.

Once she has a nice big stack, I say, “That should keep you busy.”

“It should.” She looks from the stack of books to me and back again. I pick them up, and we walk back into the kitchen without saying a word.

“Well, I need to get to work,” I say. She doesn’t respond. I feel her eyes on me as I walk out the door. Blue’s waiting for me outside.

I pick up one of his balls and throw it. He bounds after it happily.

I steal a glance back into the house. Ginger’s gone from the kitchen, presumably back into her bedroom.

Okay. No more distractions. It's time to work. I have deadlines to meet. I can't keep fucking around.

Blue is back with his ball in his mouth. He drops it at my feet.

“No more time for play, buddy. I’ve got work to do.”

He looks at me with his big sad, puppy dog eyes, and I just can’t resist.

“Fine. One more time.” I throw the ball in the direction of the lake. Once he returns, I go back inside where I proceed to sit and stare at a blank computer screen for three solid hours -without doing a damn thing.

Why is my brain broken? I never used to have this problem. Not until...well, not until everything fell apart. Maybe I do need to talk to Leery’s stupid therapist? I pick up the card and flip it over. Blue gets up from the spot where he’s been napping at my feet for the past hour and walks over to the door and starts whining. I set down the card and go to the door. When I open it, I see Ginger on the back patio.

Fuck me. She’s doing yoga in the world’s tiniest spandex shorts and sports bra. Damn, she’s super flexible. I groan softly. I did not need that image in my brain. She’s flowing between stretching and balance poses, avoiding using her hurt arm. She stretches her arms up high over her head and then bends over and holds onto one of the patio chairs, back flat, arms out straight, ass in the air. I’m just picturing myself standing behind her - my dick pressed between her ass cheeks, fingers digging into her hips.

Well, if my dick wasn’t paying attention to the situation before, it certainly is now. I adjust myself just as Blue spots Ginger. He’s on the move.

“No, Blue,” I yell. He’s mid-pounce, flying in her direction. As soon as he hears me, he skids to a stop or at least tries too, but it’s a little too late, and he crashes into her - knocking her over.

I run her direction.

“Get out of here, you dumb animal,” I say, shooing Blue away. “You okay? Did you get hurt? How’s your wrist?”