Page 39 of King of Hollywood

I squinted at him, unsure why the hell he cared. “Because I hate them.”

“You hate…cats. So you’re listening to them for ten hours straight?”

Well if he put it like that it sounded rather idiotic.

“My boyfriend has two felines. I am simply acclimating myself to their horrible chatter, so that they will not startle me when I am at his home.” That wouldn’t happen today—fuck you Barry (the buffoon). But at some point in the near future, I would be inside Felix’s home again. There would be hair. There would be claws. There would be sounds. I was simply planning ahead.

And also, maybe, making myself feel better that our date tonight had been rearranged.

“You have a boyfriend?” My boss blinked at me, because apparently he wanted to bother me all day.

“Why do you look so surprised?” I squinted at him.

“I didn’t know you were gay.”

“I’m not.” My hackles raised as I glared at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t care who you sleep with, Marshall. I just…” He cocked his head at me, folding his arms over his rotund belly. “I’ve worked with you for ten years. And I’ve never seen you go on a date with anyone. I didn’t think you did that.”

“If you must know, I am demisexual and demiromantic.” Thank you, Google.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It means, my sexuality is none of your business. Now leave me alone.”

“Right,” he laughed, eyes crinkling affectionately. Harold was a good boss. He had a tendency to ramble, yes, and he often smelled like Doritos, but he was always fair. Always kind. I didn't like people—but I supposed I didn’t hate him. Not as much as I hated most everyone else. “I’ll leave you to your cats.”

Finally.

Before I could put my headphones back on to torture myself till the end of my shift—and my date with Felix—Winnie texted me. I lamented my life as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, frowning down at it.

Winnie: Don’t forget to bring a condom.

A cond—oh. Oh no. We were not having sex tonight. We were going to a carnival. There would be caramel popcorn, cotton candy, dunk tanks—and screaming children. Can you imagine? Sex at a carnival? Too much noise. Popcorn in…crevices that should not be violated with confectionaries. The crowds, the people, the germs.

Absolutely not.

There would be no sex at the carnival.

I would rather die.

Perhaps afterward? But no. No, no. Not then either. There wasn’t a lot I felt confident about lately. Seeing as I was now quite committed to someone, despite being sure I would never, ever feel this way about anyone. However, I was quite certain I wasn’t ready for sex. Not without at least kissing first. Right? Wasn’t there supposed to be some silly sports game that dictated how far you went on each date?

Something about goals.

First date meant first goal.

Not a hole-in-one.

Oh god.

Fuck.

I needed to do more research.

I was not ready for this.

What if Felix asked about the goals? I got the feeling he wouldn’t know. I’d never even seen him with a phone out. The man was one of those weird people that barely benefited from modern technology. It was one thing I liked about him—at least…until now.