The last dash chance to catch up a few words tonight. No more installments until some time tomorrow. Goodnight, me lovelies!
Current word count: 24260
“So, you have you downloaded my music yet?” Kaden asked as he ran up to her.
“And good morning to you too.”
He laughed and then just stared at her. He kept trying to discover what it was about her that tipped his earth just a little. Let’s face it. He had known a lot of girls. Women. He had seen the brazen, the demure, the seeming virgins who jumped on him in the backseat of his limousine and gave him the glory, glory, hallelujah before he could count to thirty, their lips and tongues working so hard that he wasn’t anymore. They all wanted him. A few might have wanted him even if he had not been Kaden Roarke of Riot of Purple Profanity. Lately a few agents had been courting him for movie work because he had “the look” they said. But those were ones who wanted him.
Suddenly it occurred to him, that his own “want” really hadn’t come up. He picked. There were always several available and he picked. He was pretty sure his grandmother would hit him upside the head for that recognition. Picking a woman? Smack upside the head. But had he really “wanted” any of them? He wanted in the way that one wants to have a finger to satisfy an itch. None stuck out. None meant anything to him, and maybe this is where he should be thanking god for good condoms. A part of him wondering what he had become.
Phoebe was outside that realm. He knew that. It scared him a little that he wanted her. Wanted. That word again. But “having” her wouldn’t be just sex, it would be something else, something that was distant and foreign and a little intimidating and desirous.
She looked cute in her red shorts with their white piping and her white tee shirt with a big heart with sequins in the center. Crap. She looked like an invitation to Valentine’s Day, which he never did, thank you very much. Her hazel eyes were a little narrow because she was smiling and her lips were a little chapped, but so full that he wanted to kiss them and make them moist. He remembered what it was like to have his tongue against her bottom lip and he felt himself begin to harden. Again, crap. Like that wouldn’t be obvious in shorts.
But she didn’t look down. Her eyes were focused on his. She just seemed lit from within. He wanted to grab her face between his palms and kiss her. Instead, he looked down at his shoes and then to the right, at the closed down seafood restaurant.
“You’re funny this morning,” she said.
“I’m always funny,” he said, just trying to find words to say that made sense.
“Sure. A laugh a minute. If you want me to listen to your music, you should just give me some instead of making me buy it,” she said with a laugh.
He frowned. “Damn, you know I didn’t mean it that way. Sure, I’d love to give you some.”
That sounded awkward. He mentally shook his head.
She laughed. “I know you’d love to give me some.”
Did her voice sound flirtatious? Why was she having this effect on him? On his cock? He hoped that his hands clasping in front of him was nonchalant. That he looked like something other than a pervy jogger, than a guy who wanted nothing more than to remove a pair of red shorts with white piping.
“So, I’ll meet you back at the house,” he said. He had lost his mojo. His charm had evaporated. He couldn’t even remember the last time that he had had to think, seriously think about the words that would come next. And all of these had been wrong. Crap.
end of day 11/16/2016
Categories: Week 3