Throughout the week, we text nearly all day and FaceTime at night before bed. It’s become something of a routine. He tells me about the clients he tattoos and what they get. Some are really cool, and others make me laugh. I tell him about my workday, show him pictures Blythe sent me from the yacht, and then tell him I miss him.
After he says he misses me too, sometimes we just stare at each other like idiots. Romantic idiots, but still idiots.
This is all going so well until we wake up Thursday morning. Let me remind you that I live in Nashville. He lives in Kentucky. These aren’t places well known for getting heavy snowfall. But today, apparently that’s different.
I look outside to a crisp white blanket of snow over my city, and my phone dings.
Avery: I have no power. Neither does anyone else I know or half the city for that matter.
Me: OMG. Did you get more snow than us?
Avery: A couple feet.
Me: Wow, that’s way more.
Avery: I guess you probably can’t come tomorrow.
Me: Shit I didn’t even think of that.
My heart sinks as the realization that all flight plans have probably been cancelled until further notice. It’s not even a problem I can throw more money at. He’s probably right.
Me: Next weekend?
Avery: I sincerely hope so.
I’m not happy about this, not at all. And I hate that he and all his friends don’t even have power. It’s too damn cold for that. And that means he’s probably not going to work either. I feel helpless being so far away, unable to help in any way.
Checking in at work, the building still has power, but transit is atrocious. We aren’t exactly prepared for this type of weather, so I hop onto my computer to send an official announcement to work remotely wherever possible. Work isn’t worth risking lives over. I wouldn’t want anyone to get into an accident or hurt for the sake of going into the office.
Besides, that means I don’t have to change into a business suit, and I’ll take that any day. Working in my pajamas is the second-best thing to not working at all. Which I could probably also do.
I decided a long time ago, I wouldn’t be like my dad. He was a great man and accomplished a lot, but it came at a price. He didn’t enjoy anything outside of work, hardly ever took a vacation, and was always stressed. I don’t want to be like that. Sure, the work we do is important, but not more so than any other facet of life. It’s about balance. Part of me always considers removing myself from the daily business and being more of a silent owner in the company but I haven’t been able to bring myself to pull the trigger. Maybe one day, maybe not.
My phone dings again as I eat my cereal over the sink.
Avery: I hate this.
Me: Me too.
Avery: We’re all going to go over to Hawk’s later. He has a generator.
Me: That’s good, at least you won’t freeze to death.
Avery: I’d rather cuddle you to keep warm.
Me: I wouldn’t say no to that.
A small amount of relief washes over me, knowing at the very least he’ll be warm. I consider driving up for a moment, but decide we’d better wait and see if maybe he’ll get his power back. I probably shouldn’t even mention that thought to him. I’ll just save it for later.
We go several hours without texting, and I use the time to sink into my work. Around dinner time, I realize I should probably stop and eat. As I pull vegetables out from the fridge drawer, my phone dings again.
Avery: We’re all at Hawk’s now and apparently, we’re about to play truth or dare.
Me: That sounds fun!
Avery: I guess so. I’d rather be playing with you.
Me: Well…we can play via text?
Avery: Playing two games of truth or dare at the same time? Count me in.
Me: Okay, truth or dare?
Avery: Truth.
I hesitate for a moment, all the questions I could potentially ask him rolling around in my mind jumbled together in a ball of fucked up twine. The reason truth or dare is an excellent game to play with someone in this position, is because sometimes you can learn more about a person based on what they ask, rather than what you ask them.
Me: What tattoo of yours has the most meaning?
Avery: There’s a feather on my shoulder blade. It starts out solid and then begins to crumble toward the end. It’s for my mom. She wanted freedom and paid a price for it.
Tears unexpectedly swell at his message. My heart hurts for him. Despite the differences in our social circles and lives as a whole, we both grew up motherless and that’s an unfortunate bond.
Avery: Truth or dare?
Me: Dare.
Avery: OHHHH this is gonna be good.
Me: BE NICE.
I cut broccoli in a bowl to wash it and his message finally appears. Of course. Of course this is his dare. There’s zero shock on my part. Setting the knife down, I grab my phone and flip to the camera app. Then, ever so gracefully I place the bottom hem of my T-shirt in my mouth, pulling it up to expose my braless breasts. Hopefully, my face is doing something sexy as I snap the picture and send it to him.
A moment goes by without a response, a nervousness settling in. I mean I know he likes my boobs but maybe it’s an unflattering angle. I pull the photo back up, deciding it’s not my worst or best. My hair is a bit of a mess and I’m not wearing any makeup but it’s nothing he hasn’t seen since we’ve started sleeping in the same bed.
Avery: Wow.
Me: Is that what you expected?
Avery: Thank you for this gift. I shall cherish it forever.
I laugh, a vision of him pulling this photo up randomly in the future to stare at it. There’s a ridiculousness to him I can’t deny loving. He always seems to know how to make me smile and relax.
Me: Truth or dare?
Avery: Dare.
Me: PAYBACK TIME.
Avery: Oh god.
Me: Excuse yourself to the bathroom and send me a solicited dick pic.
Avery: Ugh. One second.
I add oil and chicken to my pan, along with some onion and mushrooms while I wait. Time ticks as I collect a loaf of Italian bread from the counter to slice. I’m not going to lie. I shamelessly stand in my kitchen with a chunk of bread smothered in butter and stuff it in my face. At least this time, it will be accompanied by chicken and vegetables. It really is all about balance.
My phone sounds off and I nearly trip attempting to grab it. I’ve never been more excited about a dick pic in my life. I swipe up on the lock screen to behold the one peen I’ve ever salivated over.
The photo is more artistic than I expected. He too, pulled his shirt up into his mouth, exposing the smooth inked skin of his stomach. And he’s…hard.
Me: Did you touch yourself before sending that?
Avery: Yes, as I looked at your tits.
Me: Naughty.
Avery: I couldn’t send you a flaccid dick. That’s not sexy.
Me: Touch yourself again.
Avery: I have to go back out to the party, devil woman.
Me: Just really quick. Maybe a little video for the road.
I flip the chicken over, searing the other side. It’s nearly done, and the vegetables are nice and tender. Suddenly though, I’m only hungry for Avery. He brings out a completely different side of myself, one I honestly didn’t know I had. Or rather, one I certainly hadn’t explored possibly ever. But I like her.
A few minutes later, I have a thirty second video in our messages that I open, forgetting everything around me.
Avery strokes himself slowly, up, and down as he looks directly into the camera, and this is better than any porn I’ve ever watched. Maybe it’s because I commanded him. Or maybe because I know exactly how all his body parts make me feel. All I know is I can’t wait to have him between my legs again.
The distinct smell of burning meat hits my senses and I turn to find my chicken now a tad overcooked. Pulling the pan off, I curse Avery’s dick for distracting me, but I don’t mean it.
Grabbing my phone again, I click over to one of my favorite restaurants that delivers and place an order. It’s not chicken this time. Then return my attention to Avery.
Me: I burnt my chicken, I hope you’re happy.
Avery: Wait, what?
Me: I was distracted by Avery Jr. and burnt my dinner.
Avery: Please don’t call my dick Avery Jr.
Me: Well, what do you want me to call it?
Avery: I don’t know, just not that.
I add naming his penis to my list of things to do, certain it will plague me until I find the right name for it.