Read Online Quirks & Kinks by Laurel Ulen Curtis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laurel Ulen Curtis
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before shifting into reverse and backing out of my spot.
Just as I was flooring it out of the parking lot a thought occurred to me.
People have the ability to tell you things that aren’t factual.
That fucking bitch better not have lied to me about his whereabouts. If she had, and I spent years of my precious life driving down to Manhattan Beach for nothing, I’d be coming up with the slowest, most painful way to murder her.
I mean, probably not.
I didn’t think I’d do good in prison. But I’d imagine it a whole hell of a lot. It’d be like the film reel for The Purge up in this bitch.
Two hours and several road rage incidents on the 405 later, I finally arrived at the end of Twenty-Sixth Street in Manhattan Beach.
After I’d calmed down and driven for an hour, I realized that even if Miss Brunette Leggy Boobs-a-lot hadn’t lied to me, there was still a distinct possibility that he would already be gone. I mean, how long did people stay and surf? I had absolutely no breadth of knowledge on the length of a session in this sport. Or any sport, for that matter.
Still, I knew that my reason for coming here was important, so I went through the motions, driving the rest of the way, climbing out of my car, and walking down onto the soft creamy sand to scan the water for someone I’d only met once.
Once.
One single encounter in a dark Mexican restaurant.
And yet, I spotted him in an instant.
Carrying his surfboard with his wetsuit half off and hanging from his naked hips, he took several sure steps away from the water, eyes focused intently on the sand.
The line of his jaw was strong and smooth, lending itself perfectly to the lingering salt and water that clung there, and the sight of him topless was enough to break all of my focus. I couldn’t tell you what the lines of his chest looked like, or how many hairs lived there. All I could tell you was that everything he was, everything he had, was enough to make my heart speed up and my brain function slow.
Slightly desperate and several hours into my journey at this point, I didn’t hold back or think for even a second. Instead, I let my baser instincts take over and screamed like a madwoman.
“Anderson!”
Highly attuned to the the sound of his name, Anderson’s wet hair swished up and over the top of his head, and his eyes met mine as his head jerked up.
My insecurities built as he studied me for several seconds, the fear that he didn’t recognize or remember me taking hold for the first time all day.
I’d just assumed he would.
Wow. Note to self: Lower expectations to the bottom of the barrel.
That way, when someone pokes a hole in the bottom and drains the water out from under you, you won’t have far to fall. And you’ll have a supply of water until the very end.
All of this is assuming you’re a fish, of course. Prolonged water submersion is presumably bad for humans.
So, basically, my philosophical wisdom is a little sketchy on this one. Do your own research.
Finally, his feet moved with his eyes, in the direction of me, and he broke his torturous vow of silence.
“Easie?”
“Oh, cool,” I murmured aloud by accident. “You do remember me.”
His toes stopped two feet shy of mine and one corner of his mouth rose into the meat of his cheek. “Of course I remember you. Surprised to see you though. I guess that whole I’ll never run into you randomly thing isn’t holding much water.”
Oops. He didn’t realize I was stalking him.
Yikes. Things were about to get awkward.
“Yeah, about that. This isn’t randomly. I came here looking for you.”
“You came here looking for me?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s what I just said.”
“Why in the hell were you looking for me?”
Before I could answer, another question formed in his head and spewed out. “How are you looking for me here? I mean, how did you know to look for me here? ”
Suddenly, I was regretting not getting Miss Brunette Leggy Boobs-a-lot’s real name. It
Just as I was flooring it out of the parking lot a thought occurred to me.
People have the ability to tell you things that aren’t factual.
That fucking bitch better not have lied to me about his whereabouts. If she had, and I spent years of my precious life driving down to Manhattan Beach for nothing, I’d be coming up with the slowest, most painful way to murder her.
I mean, probably not.
I didn’t think I’d do good in prison. But I’d imagine it a whole hell of a lot. It’d be like the film reel for The Purge up in this bitch.
Two hours and several road rage incidents on the 405 later, I finally arrived at the end of Twenty-Sixth Street in Manhattan Beach.
After I’d calmed down and driven for an hour, I realized that even if Miss Brunette Leggy Boobs-a-lot hadn’t lied to me, there was still a distinct possibility that he would already be gone. I mean, how long did people stay and surf? I had absolutely no breadth of knowledge on the length of a session in this sport. Or any sport, for that matter.
Still, I knew that my reason for coming here was important, so I went through the motions, driving the rest of the way, climbing out of my car, and walking down onto the soft creamy sand to scan the water for someone I’d only met once.
Once.
One single encounter in a dark Mexican restaurant.
And yet, I spotted him in an instant.
Carrying his surfboard with his wetsuit half off and hanging from his naked hips, he took several sure steps away from the water, eyes focused intently on the sand.
The line of his jaw was strong and smooth, lending itself perfectly to the lingering salt and water that clung there, and the sight of him topless was enough to break all of my focus. I couldn’t tell you what the lines of his chest looked like, or how many hairs lived there. All I could tell you was that everything he was, everything he had, was enough to make my heart speed up and my brain function slow.
Slightly desperate and several hours into my journey at this point, I didn’t hold back or think for even a second. Instead, I let my baser instincts take over and screamed like a madwoman.
“Anderson!”
Highly attuned to the the sound of his name, Anderson’s wet hair swished up and over the top of his head, and his eyes met mine as his head jerked up.
My insecurities built as he studied me for several seconds, the fear that he didn’t recognize or remember me taking hold for the first time all day.
I’d just assumed he would.
Wow. Note to self: Lower expectations to the bottom of the barrel.
That way, when someone pokes a hole in the bottom and drains the water out from under you, you won’t have far to fall. And you’ll have a supply of water until the very end.
All of this is assuming you’re a fish, of course. Prolonged water submersion is presumably bad for humans.
So, basically, my philosophical wisdom is a little sketchy on this one. Do your own research.
Finally, his feet moved with his eyes, in the direction of me, and he broke his torturous vow of silence.
“Easie?”
“Oh, cool,” I murmured aloud by accident. “You do remember me.”
His toes stopped two feet shy of mine and one corner of his mouth rose into the meat of his cheek. “Of course I remember you. Surprised to see you though. I guess that whole I’ll never run into you randomly thing isn’t holding much water.”
Oops. He didn’t realize I was stalking him.
Yikes. Things were about to get awkward.
“Yeah, about that. This isn’t randomly. I came here looking for you.”
“You came here looking for me?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s what I just said.”
“Why in the hell were you looking for me?”
Before I could answer, another question formed in his head and spewed out. “How are you looking for me here? I mean, how did you know to look for me here? ”
Suddenly, I was regretting not getting Miss Brunette Leggy Boobs-a-lot’s real name. It
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