He looks down at me, looks up at his room, and then, to my chagrin, he starts dragging me along the floor. He can’t possibly be serious.
“JP, I demand you stop at once.”
He doesn’t. He keeps walking, me dragging behind him.
“Stop this insanity,” I call out. “Just talk to me.”
Drag.
Drag.
. . . drag.
Frustration consumes me, my ears heat to boiling levels, and I can feel the anger start to take over. I tried to be nice about this. I attempted a smooth conversation. Yes, I had to resort to becoming an actual ball and chain, but now . . . oh now, I’m getting upset.
Keeping one hand planted on the leg that’s dragging me, I reach for his other leg but miss by a long shot. In a horrible attempt to grasp anything so I don’t lose him to a full-out sprint when he shakes free of me, my fingers curl around the fabric of his shorts.
I don’t really register that I have shorts in my hand. All I know is that I have a hold of something and it’s time to pull.
That’s exactly what I do.
I yank on his shorts so hard that he stumbles forward, and because I’m holding on to his other leg, he can’t catch his balance.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is where things go terribly, terribly wrong.
It happens in slow motion. I’m unable to completely process what’s going to occur as everything else fades away and the only sound is the long, drawn-out noise of JP saying, “What . . . the . . . fuuuuuuck?”
It was never my intention to anger him more, nor was it my intention to cause him to fall.
But I accomplished both things . . . whilst pantsing him at the same time.
Yup, just like that, with a slight yank, those elastic-banded shorts of his slide right off his narrow hips and down his legs, causing him to stumble even more.
I cry out in horror because, good God, there are loose shorts in my hand.
Which only means . . .
Please let him be wearing underwear. Please let him be wearing underwear.
He dances above me, attempting to gain balance.
I squeeze my eyes shut out of pure self-preservation.
I twist.
He turns.
He jumps.
I clutch.
And then, with a big crash to the floor, he falls on top of me, pillowing my face with what I can only assume is his stomach.
“Jesus fuck,” he says.
I open my eyes and come face to face with man scrotum.
A man’s freaking scrotum!
“Ahhh!” I scream and swat at his leg. “Your penis is on my face. Your penis is on my face.”
“I know. Fuck,” he yells, attempting to get off me.
“Where is your underwear?”
“I don’t wear underwear at night.”
“Dear God! It’s on my nose! Your genitals are resting on my freaking nose!”
“I fucking know!” he yells back. “But I can’t get up because you’re still holding on to me.”
“I’ve been tea-bagged,” I cry out in horror, his penis still rubbing along my nostrils.
“Let the fuck GO, KELSEY!”
As if I finally realize what’s happening, I release all my limbs and he climbs off me. I scramble up against the wall and hold my hand—still clutching his shorts—in front of my face.
“I’ve been defiled.”
“You’ve been defiled?” he retorts. “I’m the one who’s been stripped bare.” He yanks the shorts from my grasp and I hear him scurry around, putting them on. When I think the coast is clear, I part my fingers to see if he’s decent.
I’m met with a very angry stare. Menacing, to be precise. Some might actually say . . . gulp sinister.
I attempt a smile, but it falls flat.
I lift my finger to speak, but he cuts me off.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Kelsey. I’m not here to be friends with you, nor am I here to try to solve any sort of complex you might have about not being liked. I’m here to do a job and I’d prefer you just leave me alone.” He turns away, pushes his hand through his hair, and mutters, “Christ,” right before he slams his door.
Well . . . that didn’t go as planned.
Lottie: How did it go? Are things good with you two?
Kelsey: I tricked him with a gas scare, got him out of his room, then flung my body onto his leg. He proceeded to drag me across the penthouse. In my attempt to stop him, I yanked his shorts down, tripped him up, and his penis landed on my face. To sum it up, I would say things are not going well.
Lottie: His penis was on your face? Call me crazy, but that’s a typical Friday night for me and Hux. Seems like things are going swimmingly.