Page 8 of Maybe You
Instead of looking affronted like I imagine most people would, he starts nodding eagerly.
“Oh, more than a bit. I have the depth of a puddle in a heat wave. There are no hidden oceans here. I do not contain multitudes. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Wouldn’t want to give a false impression of myself.”
“Shallow but honest.”
He shrugs easily. “It’s not as if one cancels out the other. And in the interest of said honesty, I’m also not a good person. I’d go so far as to say that I’m a complete asshole. I really only care about what I can get from you. I don’t give a shit about your job, hobbies, or interests. You have friends? Good for you. Family? Hard pass. I don’t want to meet them. Daddy issues? I don’t—on second thought, scratch that, I can work with those, provided I can deal with the aftereffects and not learn about the specifics of what caused them. The bottom line is, I want to fuck you. Interested?”
I stare at him for the longest time. I’m really not sure what to make of him. Is he even real? I mean, yeah, that was refreshingly honest, but people don’t usually say something like that about themselves. People also don’t say they want to fuck complete strangers while they’re busy committing a crime.
“People aren’t usually so blunt,” I say slowly.
“I know. It’s extremely disappointing. Just think how much easier everything would be if we all just spoke our minds.”
“I assume it would also involve things like hurt feelings, and that’s why most of us don’t,” I say drily.
He makes a face. “The f-word. And not the good kind.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. On paper, this dude is off-putting. In real life… he’s sort of entertaining.
“Wow. You’re a real catch.”
“Not trying to be that even a little bit, so if you’re one of those romantics who’s saving themselves for their prince on a white horse, could you please let me know now? I’m not interested in any of that, so we’d just be wasting each other’s time.”
“I don’t?—”
“I can give you my therapist’s number if you want to talk through the pain past lovers have caused you. He charges an arm and a leg, but he’s a great listener.”
I should find him obnoxious. The Wren I know normally would. The Wren I know would hate this kind of arrogance and cockiness. The Wren I know wouldn’t trust any of it.
But that Wren doesn’t seem to be here right now. Instead, there’s this other Wren, who’s starting to find this situation both absurd and a bit exciting.
“You have a very mysterious smile,” the guy says.
“Do I?”
“Like the Mona Lisa.”
“Fingers crossed somebody will get a hankering to paint me, so people can wonder about me for centuries to come,” I say.
“I’d offer my services if you’re willing to make it a nude.”
My cheeks get a degree warmer, but it’s an illusion of desire. Nobody wants to see me naked. I have plenty of evidence of that. It’s nice to pretend, though. It’s nice to impersonate normalcy for a change.
“Are you any good at painting?”
He shrugs. “Some body parts more than others.”
A snort of laughter escapes. This is probably not real. I’m starting to consider the possibility that I slipped and fell and hit my head, so in reality, I’m probably lying by the side of the pool, unconscious, possibly in a coma, and am now hallucinating this whole encounter. Hell, maybe I’m dead.
“So in essence, what you’re offering is to paint me a fancy dick pic,” I say.
“It’s nice your mind went straight to the gutter.” He grins. “I personally very much approve of that.”
“Somehow I figured you would.”
His smile widens, like he’s happy I’m getting it. “Told you. Depth of a puddle.”
“At least you’re honest about it.”