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350 pages, Paperback
First published July 10, 2015
What the fuck is wrong with me? Unlike my inability to answer Rex, I can think of about a hundred answers to that question. Like, I barely know this guy, so why am I so goddamned worried about what he thinks of me? Like, I should’ve left last night after we fucked and I don’t get why I didn’t. Like, I’ve never had a real relationship, so why would I start now?And here's a quote from one of Daniel's less boring inner monologues that sums up what I feel about him perfectly:
I'd know his name and who was in his daily life, but I'd be waiting to find out that thing that would make me care about his story.I had the misfortune of being in his head for way more than 300 pages and there wasn't anything I read in all that time that made me care even once.
His hand is huge. "I, um," He bends down and looks in my face.Um, repeat, um, ad, um, nauseum.
"What the hell? "Um," I say.
He slides my suit jacket off my shoulders and starts to unbutton my shirt. "Um," I mumble.
"Take your pants off." "Oh, um, I—"
"Why Marilyn?" "Like Marilyn Monroe—she just, um,��you know, she was a little banged up, so I figured she could use a star's name.
"Changing the subject: check. Um, he's.... Well, he's...."
"I'll have to see. I'm here for this year at least. Um...."
He still doesn't want my number, or....? "Um, yeah, I'll see you," I say.
I take her large paw in my hand and shake it. "Um. Good night."
"Oh," I say.Oh, and repeat ad nauseum.
"Oh, yeah."
"Oh, I'm Daniel."
"Oh, so that'll take you, what, two or three years?"
"Oh, it's boring; you don't want to hear about that,"
"What? Oh." I laugh, looking at the dog.
He's looking at the dog, not me. "Oh, yeah, thanks." I look down too. "Oh shit."
"Oh, oh," I cry out.
"That's pretty grim," he says. "Oh, don't worry about it. I'm doing laundry tomorrow.
It isn't something I'm used to—quiet, I mean.I mean, repeat ad nauseum.
"You were in an accident?" "Are you hurt?" "No—I mean, I'm not."
"You're a film geek, huh?" "What? No. I mean, I just like old movies,"
"I can't stop thinking about him, Ginge. It's idiotic. I mean, I barely know the guy."
I don't pine. I don't wonder what they're doing. I never have. I mean, sure, I've had crushes.
"I didn't know you were going to keep her. I hope—I mean, I hope you didn't feel obligated or anything,"
"We get along pretty good. Well, I mean. We get along very well."
I mean, it was so cool of you to let me stay and then I just kind of jumped on you and—anyway.
"Just stay left. I can drive you if you want. I mean, I need to go back home and get my truck, but—"
[...] but I crack the window to breathe the sweet smell of fresh air and trees anyway.Make sure you have a good smell before you repeat ad nauseum.
The fire consumes the paper and there's a delicious, earthy smell as the bark on the logs starts to crackle.
He's looking at me calmly and I can smell him on the blanket I'm wrapped in.
God, it's such a familiar smell.
The fire is crackling and the smell of wood smoke combined with Rex's scent is heady.
It smells heavenly.
As if in sympathy, the ghost smells of oil, lube and hot metal tickle my sinuses.
"He was skinny and smelled like cloves and he said he liked Kurt Vile."
But he's warm, even in a T-shirt, and he smells so good.
He hasn't smiled yet, but he probably has a nice one.*smiles winningly* Repeat ad nauseum.
"Better?" he asks, and when he gives me his first real smile, it's the sweetest thing I've ever seen.
I murmur. He smiles at me.
Rex quirks an eyebrow. "Only with you," I say. His smile is slow and predatory.
I'm joking but he doesn't smile.
She smiles broadly at me, but her smile fades when she looks down to my arms.
Jesus, Daniel. Rex laughs, his smile wide.
Rex grins and it almost takes my breath away. It's a smile that reaches all the way to his whiskey-coloured eyes, wrinkling at the corners.
"Don't argue; just accept it," Marjorie says, and I smile.
I keep seeing, like, cherries in all the salads here.Like, repeat ad nauseum, like.
"Maybe I'll keep the shop open and only give Thanksgiving-themed tattoos. But, like, literal ones. Like, I'll tattoo turkeys, Thanksgiving foods, the genocide of indigenous peoples, et cetera. Whattaya think?
"Um, no offense or anything," he says, "and I'm sure it's a good album and all, but that's kind of a lame present for someone who, like, carved you something out of a tree with his bare hands."
"Yeah, like, what nice things, so I don't repeat them."
"Like, because I know we haven't had that conversation, I know."
Like, what's so special about the things we hide away anyway?
"At school, people thought I was... like, learning disabled because I never talked and I..."
"Like, you know that feeling."
So, I drop the bagel and I'm just like swearing a blue streak, right?
And he looks at glasses guy behind the counter in horror—like, what the hell did you do to make this lady lose her shit.
"Oh fuck," he says, but it's like his voice is coming from a great distance, far away from the feeling of his fingers zinging pleasure through my channel and his big hand stroking us together faster now.Pulse/pulses/pulsing:
And then, in the space of a heartbeat, we're one body, melted together as my channel adjusts to his size and he relaxes into me.
Every time he fills me he brushes over the spot that makes my whole channel pulse with pleasure.
The only thing I can feel is the empty throbbing in my channel where his tongue left me wanting.
It's like his whole channel is a fist, squeezing me.
I can feel my whole channel throbbing with pleasure and a little bit of soreness from his powerful thrusts.
Every scrape of his teeth sends a pulse to my groin.(As an aside, Kat Fact #171: My favourite kind of pulse is a sympathetic one. True story.)
His cock is so hard he's pulsing against me and I can tell it took some effort to even form the words.
I can feel his erection pulse against my ass with the beat of his heart.
My own cock gives a final, sympathetic pulse, a few last beads of pleasure welling from me as Rex collapses on my back, his breath loud in my ear.
I cry out at his words, my eyes squeezing shut as he pulses his finger against my prostate and my whole channel throbs with pleasure.Yeeeeeah. So lots of pulsing and channel bidness went on... But that wasn't all. When it came to sex, poor Rex wasn't portrayed in the best light.
He kneels between my legs, spreading them to make room for him, and kneads my inner thighs and up to the crease of my bottom. He takes me by the hips and digs strong thumbs into my spine, pushing my knees up and apart.There isn't actually anything wrong with what is described here. After all, Daniel is laying on his stomach and Rex is between his legs doing his thing before moving his legs into what would be a kneeling position if his knees were pushed up and apart, right? But then if you continue to read the rest of the paragraph, you get this:
I squirm a little, trying to maneuver myself into a position that isn’t crushing my burgeoning erection.After reading that is when I became confused. He was seemingly manoeuvred into a kneeling position, but if he was, then how could his erection be getting crushed? Does he have a dong that is comparable in size to a T-Rex's? Unlikely. So none of that made sense.
Rex lifts my hips easily and settles me back on the bed tenderly, then urges me down again, his attention returning to my ass.Hmmm. His hips were lifted which proves he wasn't kneeling before, so how on earth were his knees pushed up and apart if he was laying on his stomach? Once again things don't make sense. Now if we take that last quote and analyse it on its own, you'll see it's also illogical because Daniel is lifted up by his hips and then settled back down, so if he is already on the bed, then how is it possible for him to be urged down again?
"As long as I'm with you, I'll be home."
There's nowhere to hide here. No blending in or fucking off. I've never felt so terrified or so exposed.
No one has ever touched me like this. Cared for me like this. It's like Rex thinks of my body as something he's responsible for. Something precious.
He touches me all the time. It's almost like he doesn't notice it. Like I'm just an extension of his body and so of course he would touch me. But, no, that makes it sound thoughtless. It's like when I'm near him he decides that it's his right to touch me. It makes me feel so connected to him.
"I think you're perfect. I mean, shit, that sounded sappy, but, I mean perfect in my opinion." Ugh, how do I explain what I mean? That all those things that he is came together like the perfect recipe.
"For you?" Rex says.
"Hmm?"
"Perfect for you, maybe?" He looks shy and pleased. All I can do is nod.
There's something about Rex that makes me feel calm. As if I'm scattered until the moment I see him and when he touches me I fly back together in a configuration that makes sense.
Maybe the point of I LOVE YOU is that it IS a tether. A connection so you can find your way back to someone even when shit seems huge and unmanageable on your own. A promise to help just because you care about someone, a promise to help that doesn't mean pulling away.
"The other night, you said that we mean different things when we say I love you. That you don't know what it means to have someone love you. This is what it means. It means doing things together and learning what each other needs. I give you what you need. You give me what I need. And they're not the same. And that's fine. It's not too good to be true. It's just good."
"I came here because I didn't have anywhere else to go. Didn't have anyone. And now...As long as I'm with you, I'll be home."
"He’s fucking perfect and I have no idea how I got so lucky. All I want is to cling to the way he’s looking at me for a few seconds longer before the illusion that I’m someone worth spending time with is shattered.lucky."
"All I can hear is what Will just told me and Rex saying he can help me. It’s like there’s a screaming in my head that is Rex pulling the gate down, just like Will said."
“Please don’t be all helpful!” I blurt out. “Don’t slam the fucking gate down and pull away!”
“Live with me. Here, for now. Then, wherever. As long as you’re with me, I won’t care where we live.”
“I can build something else. Something just for us.”
“I came here because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Didn’t have anyone. And now…. As long as I’m with you, I’ll be home.”