Page 35 of Fractured Hearts

“I do not giggle! Men don’t giggle!” I cross my arms and return her scowl. But then the scariest thing happens. Jo smiles, and it’s not her cute smile that makes my tummy flutter.

Wait. What?

No tummy flutters. Tummy flutters mean gas and that’s it.

I can only handle Jo’s scary smiles that mean bad things for me.

“Definitely bad things for you,” Jo says, then she pokes me in my ribs several times while I let out a very manly laugh and question how much I said out loud.

“See?” I ask with a confidence only alcohol could muster.

Jo laughs so hard she has to bend over to catch her breath. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, baby girl,” she says when she finally stops laughing enough to speak.

I ignore the nickname, having maintained enough sense to know it will stick if I comment on it.

“What were we talking about?” Jo asks. She’s smiling that not-tummy-fluttering smile that isn’t at all confusing to me and hasn’t been making me question myself for at least the last week. I definitely don’t like how pink her cheeks are from the alcohol or the unguarded way she’s been looking at me. There’s no way I like the thoughts that cross my mind in the middle of the night when the house is at its darkest and I’m riding the line between dreams and consciousness. Those thoughts have to stay in the dark.

“Fish?”

Jo stares at me without blinking before bursting out into laughter again. “Hey, do you think fish know they’re fish?” she asks after composing herself.

“What else would they think they are?”

Jo shrugs. “You know what I think?”

“Not usually,” I slur.

Jo continues like I haven’t spoken. Maybe I didn’t. “I think we should learn a craft so we have something to do. It’s very boring here.”

“A craft? Like witchcraft?” She’s going to turn me into a toad. I knew it! I bet she kept the knife she stabbed me with because she needed my blood for her toad spell.

Jo laughs again, and I could easily become addicted to the sound. “No! Like pottery or diamond painting. Oh! Or maybe smutty wood carvings!”

“No?” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, but I think I only know what half those words mean.

“Oh!” she shouts again, an excited smile on her face as she grips my thigh. I think she says something after that, but all I can feel is her hot skin against mine, and it’s making my balls tingle.

Huh. That’s new. I wonder if I should call Darren and ask him if tingly ball disease comes from wine. I never drink it and now my balls are tingling and my dick is chubbing.

“What do you think?” Jo asks, pulling me from spiraling over my maybe ball disease.

“Uh. Sure,” I say, a little scared to tell her I wasn’t listening. I grab my glass to drain it, but only a single drop hits my tongue. “Did you drink my wine?”

Jo snorts. “That was all you.”

“No. I’d remember.”

“Really? What did you just agree to if you remember things so well?”

She’s looking at me with a smug expression on her cute face, and I want to kiss it off her.

“I think wine makes me straight!” I yell with a gasp at the realization. That has to be what’s wrong with my balls right now. “They need to put that on the warning label!”

Jo blinks at me slowly. “Is that why I’m stuck only liking men?” she screeches. “What will make me like women? Hard cider?” Jo stands up too quickly and almost topples over the coffee table.

“We don’t have hard cider,” I say, throwing my arms out to stop her from falling, but all that manages to do is knock me on my side. Jo turns to look at me, but trips and lands right on my chest.

“Hard cider store tomorrow,” she mumbles.