Page 83 of King of Hollywood
I wouldn’t do that.
If I had a gallery of him in a few little cat outfits, that was only because Winnie was bound to ask if I had any. And the second she knew I did, she’d demand to see. I was saving myself time. Being efficient.
“You use those condoms I gave you?” Winnie asked, inappropriately.
“God, you’re nosy today.” I picked up the phone, taking her with me as I headed into the bathroom to wash my face and shave. I whipped up the cream with a brush in a bowl as we talked, only half-listening to her as I applied the cool, fluffy substance to my face.
Damn. I should’ve done this before I got dressed.
I hadn’t realized I’d begun to grow stubble though.
I wanted to be clean shaven. I had plans, dammit. And giving Felix beard burn was not in them—at least…not till I’d gotten a chance to stick my tongue in his mouth. I wanted him to be thinking about how sexy I was and how slick my tongue was, not that my beard hurt.
“What are you doing now?” Winnie asked, clearly amused as she listened to me rattle around.
“I’m shaving.”
“I thought you shaved in the mornings.”
“I did. I do. But—” I hated that she knew that about me.
“Marshall…” Winnie laughed, amused. “Why are you shaving twice? It’s not like you’re a werewolf. You couldn’t have gotten that hairy.”
“Maybe it’s not necessary.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“But I don’t want to scratch him with my beard.” Oh shit. I had not meant to say that. Oh fuck. I’d never hear the end of this. I’d be ninety years old, still getting ribbed.
“MarMar—” Winnie gasped, delighted. “Are you planning on making out with your boyfriend?”
“Stop. No. Ew. Winnie—”
“You’re worried about beard burn.” Winnie cackled, the riotous wheezing laugh she rarely used. “Oh god. Baby Martian’s worried about beard burn! I never thought this day would come—”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
“Are you going to give him tongue, Marshall?”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up.”
“Do you even know how to French kiss?”
“La-la-la-la.” I spoke loudly, trying to cover up her teasing. As I reached for my razor, I debated hanging up on her entirely. We hadn’t spoken since she’d visited me after the car show—and I missed her, even though I hated her more than I hated Walmart. Which was saying something.
Harsh, I know.
“Marshall and Felix sitting in a tree—” Winnie sang, “K-I-S-S—”
I hung up on her.
She tried to call back so I blocked her.
I finished shaving in peace—though I did go down a mini anxiety spiral and spent a solid half hour watching video tutorials about French kissing because she’d been right. I didn’t know how. I’d never done it. Swapping spit had seemed incredibly disgusting before—
And now it was…
Ugh.