“Should I be scared by that smile?” he asks when I sit back down across from him.
“Possibly.” I flip open the box and reveal the two dollar-sized penis cookies on a popsicle stick. “I bought us penis cookies, covered in white and dark chocolate.”
I look up at him and wait, grinning like an idiot. The corner of his mouth ticks up, and then he smiles. He picks up the white chocolate cookie and examines it, twisting it from one side to the other. “I’ve never had a dick in my mouth, but there’s always time to change that.” Then he takes a large bite and chews. “Hell, this penis is good.”
I snort so hard I feel droplets of snot come out of my nose. Attractive, Kelsey.
“And so lifelike.” He examines the cookie again. “Now this, Kelsey, this would be average. Your boy . . . not so much.” Then he takes another bite and I can’t help but think he’s so freaking right.
JP: Do you hear that?
Kelsey: Is someone having sex? I thought the other people on this floor are across the way.
JP: They are. It’s not them. It’s below us. I just looked. People are fucking on the balcony.
Kelsey: Seriously? Where everyone can see them?
JP: LOL. Oh, Kelsey.
Kelsey: What? That’s concerning, don’t you think? “Caught with your pants down” is a real term.
JP: But that’s the excitement of it all, getting caught.
Kelsey: Let me guess—having sex on a balcony isn’t something new to you.
JP: Not so much.
Kelsey: Shocking.
JP: Are you saying I’m a bit of a man-whore?
Kelsey: I don’t think we need to label our sex lives. You just have a more frequent one.
JP: Very. Want me to teach you a thing or two?
Kelsey: How did I know you were going to suggest that?
JP: Because I’m becoming a good friend and you know me inside and out.
Kelsey: Sort of. Hell, I think I talk to you more than my sister now. Granted, she’s been busy with the wedding.
JP: Do you have any other friends?
Kelsey: Yeah, a few girlfriends, but unfortunately, we’ve slowly grown apart because of my business. The hustle doesn’t allow for many friends.
JP: I get it. Well, you have me now.
Kelsey: I do. And I’m grateful for that.
JP: So . . . do you want to sit out on the balcony and listen to the fuckers?
Kelsey: . . . good night, JONAH!
JP: Ooo, say my name again. I like it.
Kelsey: *Sigh*
Kelsey: Thank you for the mid-morning smoothie delivery. How did you know I needed this more than anything right now?
JP: Caught a glimpse of you when I was walking through the Angelica with Huxley on FaceTime. Had it delivered right away. You look tired, babe.
Kelsey: The fuckers were really going at it last night.
JP: Is that really what was keeping you up last night?
Kelsey: My mind was racing, thinking about all things business. You know how it goes.
JP: I do. If you want, we can skip the dinner tonight and just hang, or do something else. Not sure what you like to do to decompress.
Kelsey: No, I still want to make dinner, unless you don’t want to.
JP: Babe, if I get to spend time with you, I don’t care what we do.
Kelsey: Well, okay then . . .
JP: Was that a weird comment?
Kelsey: It was unexpected.
JP: I just feel my best around you. Sorry if that’s weird, but it’s true.
Kelsey: It’s not weird. Makes me feel like I mean something.
JP: You do, babe. You mean a lot.
“Okay, now add the ice,” I say, as my hands are wrist-deep in the masa.
“Sure,” JP says, while working around me. The pork has been cooked, I cheated and put it in the crockpot this afternoon, and we already prepared the sauce. I thought it was cute when JP was in awe over the dehydrated peppers and how we rehydrated them and then blended them up.
“And from here, we mix for about ten to fifteen minutes with our hands.”
“Oh, shit, really?”
“Yup.”
“Okay.” He maneuvers around and awkwardly stands next to me, but can’t quite get the right angle until he finally mutters, “Fuck it,” and stands behind me. He reaches around my arms and puts his hand in the bowl, his head right next to mine. “Is this okay?”
His chest is plastered against my back and the rough scruff of his cheek is rubbing against mine, driving my internal temperature up another ten degrees. But I’m not going to make a big deal about it so I nod.
“That’s fine. As long as you’re comfortable.”
“I’m good, babe. What perfume do you wear, by the way? Fucking kills me.”