Free Waiting for You by Shey Stahl Page B

sure I could find a pole somewhere if you want to just mark
that one off now.”
    The look he gave me was
almost laughable. I say almost because I was too busy trying not to mount the
boy. It was a justifiable response in my mind but then again I was trying not
to rush into this.
    I took the whiskey back
looking at the label and wondering why they didn’t put a warning label on the
outside of the bottle that said: May induce sexual behavior .
    Dylan had ways of
getting people do things he wanted and managed to convince a bum on the street
to buy us a bottle of whiskey for fifty bucks and a pack of smokes.
    Now we were enjoying
that whiskey.
    I wasn’t a fan of
whiskey just like I wasn’t a big fan of the beer last night. Dylan got a good
laugh at my first drink and told me his grandpa’s words of wisdom: It’ll put
hair on your balls .
    “I don’t want hair
anywhere.” I told him completely serious and eyeing him like he was crazy for
suggesting that I needed hair on my balls. Not that I had them.
    “So bare…” Dylan smiled
keeping his gaze from mine by taking another shot of whiskey, “huh.”
    “I’m not even going to
answer that one.”
    “I wasn’t asking. I was
imagining.”
    I took the bottle from
him wondering if he was capable of a conversation that he didn’t turn sexual. Probably not.
    The whiskey burned and
tasted like shit but I enjoyed the feeling it gave me. That tingly warm feeling
was giving me the courage to talk about stripping and my virginity.
    “I want to get a
tattoo.” I paused before looking over at him. My legs rested against the
dashboard as he finished writing. “And lose my virginity. Don’t forget to write
that down.”
    Nodding, his smirk was
evident along with the increased breath, but he wrote my virginity at the end
of the list and tossed it on the dashboard in front of him. I looked at the bag
to see what he wrote and noticed the last one said “innocence” instead of
virginity.
    “What about you?” I
asked glancing over at him. “Aren’t you going to write yours down?”
    “I’m gonna do any goddamn thing I want to.” He told me pulling
out a cigarette and lighting it before tossing his lighter on the dash over the
bag.
    I like his lips around
the end of a cigarette, and I love the way he squints his eyes when he inhales.
When he holds the smoke in his lungs and smiles, I wanted to scream.
    “You’re not going to
write a list?”
    “Nope, I’m going to be
spontaneous. Take my list city by city. If I want to piss alongside the road,
well then, I’m gonna whip it out.” His blue eyes
twinkled mischievously.
    I think I fainted with
the way he said whip it out and I really wanted to be around when that whip
it out took place.
    Drinking alcohol does
things to people besides flushed cheeks. Now I understood why it did that. It
gives you liquid confidence too. Confidence you ordinarily didn’t have, or at
least I didn’t ordinarily have it.
    Somehow, and I blame
this on that whiskey, we started a game of confessions that started with me
complaining about my pinky toe that had no toenail. It was weird shaped and I
found it cute but annoying because of the way it curved I had no toenail on it.
Both feet were that way too.
    Dylan smiled. “I have a
nipple ring.”
    I knew that already, I
saw it earlier. “My legs are too long for my body.”
    “You’re a woman, that’s
impossible. Long legs are awesome.” I took another shot and then he said, “I
have a birth mark on my ass that looks like a naked lady. I’m quite proud of it
actually.”
    “I once tried to give
myself a nose ring and ended getting a bloody nose. It was a mess.”
    Dylan laughed.
    “My ass is too big.”
    Dylan smirked. “Also
not possible,”
    “It is possible to have
an ass that’s too big.”
    “While I would agree it
is possible, yes, yours is perfect,” he laughed dropping his head back against
the seat looking up at the headliner. “Ah, my weakness,”
    “What?”
    “Your