Lottie: Stop avoiding. Tell me all the naughty things you’ve done.
Huxley: You want naughty?
Lottie: Not that kind of naughty . . . well . . . huh, now I’m curious. Are you a naughty man?
Huxley: Are those your two questions for the day?
Lottie: You drive a hard bargain, but I kind of want them answered, so, yes, those are my two questions. I’d like the jail-time question answered first.
Huxley: For the record, we never went to jail, because we were never caught. But we were bored assholes and would fuck with our neighbors, stealing stupid shit from lawns and putting it in other people’s yards. So, Mr. Galstone on the corner would end up with Mrs. Dreerie’s potted plants, but we would alter them somehow, like spray-painting the planters. Stupid shit, but it got the neighbors talking, arguing. It was entertaining.
Lottie: You little assholes. Man, that would drive Jeff nuts if something like that happened to him. He’s very protective of his yard. He wishes he’d be acknowledged by The Flats yard committee, but we’re one street off from being considered. Jeff believes he deserves recognition. We all do.
Huxley: I noticed the yard was very well manicured. He does a great job.
Lottie: He’d appreciate the compliment. Now . . . ask me a question.
Huxley: You don’t want my answer to your other question right now?
Lottie: I’ll wait. Hit me with a hard one.
Huxley: Okay . . . have you ever been in love?
I stare down at my phone, reading his question over and over again. For such a robotic man, I never thought he’d ask a question like that. When I said hard, I meant something like “Who would you die on a sword for? Team Jacob or Team Edward?”
Side note . . . glitter dick, all day, every day.
But have I ever been in love? Now that’s a heavy question.
Huxley: I’m waiting . . .
And he’s relentless. I guess it’s only fair I answer.
Lottie: Have I ever been in love? Umm, that would be a no. A solid no. I’ve been with a few guys, dated, but no one has ever captured me. I’m pretty sure my heart will wait to fall for someone when I least expect it.
Huxley: How many guys have you been with?
Lottie: Is that your second question?
Huxley: Yes.
Lottie: Throwing away a second question on such a menial subject. I’ve been with five guys, and I’ll throw you a bone, only one of them has made me come. That one guy . . . was you.
My face heats up as I press Send. Dear Jesus, why did I say that? That wasn’t flirting, was it? No, I’m not flirting with him. That was just telling the truth, and knowing the kind of man Huxley is, he’ll be proud he’s the only one, because he’s an alpha and he thrives on information like that. It’ll help him open up to me more . . . hopefully.
Huxley: Clearly, you’ve been with some assholes. Glad I could make you come all over my fingers.
Ooof . . . okay, things are getting acutely sweaty over here.
The back of my neck feels dewy, my upper lip also seems to have a sheen to it. What an “attractive” reaction to a decently dirty text.
Lottie: You’re the only one, other than myself.
Huxley: If I give you one more question, will you give me one more?
Lottie: I’m intrigued. So . . . yes.
Huxley: Ask another question first. The naughty one?
Lottie: No. I’m saving that for last. I want to know if you’ve ever been in love.
Huxley: Never. No one has even come close to making me feel as though I could spend the rest of my life with them, as if I can’t go another day without laying eyes on them, as if I need them in my arms just to get a solid night’s sleep. I’ve only ever had surface-level relationships with the women I’ve been with.
Lottie: I wouldn’t have guessed that would be your answer. From the way you act, your clipped tone, your standoffish behavior, I would’ve sworn someone broke your heart.
Huxley: There was someone who fucked me in the head, but I wasn’t in love. I was more . . . attached for the wrong reasons. For business.
Lottie: Oh, I see. Well, that explains your need to keep everything business related between us.
Huxley: There’s a reason for everything.
Lottie: What’s your third question for me?
Huxley: You said I’m the only one who got you off, besides yourself. Tell me the best way you’ve ever made yourself orgasm.
Cue more upper-lip sweat. Because I know precisely, without a doubt, no question in my mind, which moment. But my answer is only going to puff up his chest more.
Lottie: It was the night you got me off. When I went back to my room, I fucked myself with my purple vibrator and came so hard, just thinking about how you commanded my body only moments before. And I realize how inappropriate that answer is, but it’s the truth. You worked me up that night. There was no turning back.