You've Got Fail(54)

“She’d never seen one before. Had no idea what she was in for. When I pulled my pants down—all nerves and excitement—she sat in front of me on her knees and lowered my tighty-whities. With the way her braces shined in the low light, it was easily the most erotic moment of my life.”

I burst out into a full-on cackle.

“She stared at it. Hard. Did I mention the braces gave her a slight slur? Have you ever heard Coach Lou Holtz talk?”

“No, but now I’ll have to Google it.”

“Yeah, you do that. Anyway, she stared for what seemed like forever. Not long enough to dull my teenage hormones. That stiffy wasn’t going anywhere, but she looked at it like it was a science experiment. ‘Touch it,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I want to. It looksh like a rocket.’”

“Oh my god. You named your fake female blogger after your dick?” I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow. I’d been pretending to be a porn star/dick for almost a month.

“Look, I’m still a guy. I can give some amazing advice and have enormous respect for women, but naming something after my dick is built into my DNA.”

I flopped onto my back and settled the phone back to my ear. “Ridiculous. Scarlet Rocket is a fever dream from your adolescent mind.”

“Pretty much.”

“Have you ever thought about coming out?”

“And telling everyone I’m a dude?”

“Yeah. You’re the most straight and narrow guy I’ve ever met, except for that one flaw. The one where you lie about who you really are. Doesn’t it eat at you?”

He paused for a long moment. “Sometimes I wish I could just be me out there, you know? Have a blog without the smoke and mirrors of Scarlet Rocket. But I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s gotten so big now. So many women have trusted me with their secrets—”

“Is it really secret if everyone on the internet can read it?”

“Scarlet Rocket is becoming a household name. Willis Halloran is a nobody.”

The urge to touch him—to jump out of my bed and ride the creepy night subway just to get to him—rose inside me. “You aren’t a nobody to me. And I suspect if you came out as the real you, you’d be just as big of a hit. Maybe even bigger.”

“I don’t think so.” His discomfort telegraphed clearly over the phone. “Now, tell me about Sparky.”

I went along with the subject change. “Mine’s not as complicated and Freudian as yours.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want to get confused. Fess up.”

I pulled my knees up, suddenly—and oddly—shy. Telling the truth had always made me feel exposed, and this was no different. “When I first saw you at the gallery that night, you looked like a rumpled Clark Kent.”

“Yeah? Which one? Christopher Reeve? Please don’t say Dean Cain. Brandon Routha? Or, even better, Henry Cavill?”

“One, you’re a dork. Two, like the one from the movie where Superman flies backwards around the earth to make time go back.”

“Ugh.” His grunt was followed by a groan.

“What’s wrong with that Superman?”

“I mean, that’s good. That’s the Christopher Reeve version—a good looking man. But the whole ‘spinning the earth backwards to roll back time’ was the dumbest contrivance in the history of movies. I mean what were they thinking? If the earth stopped spinning, much less reversed its spin, life as we know it would completely end. Though, I admit, some in the comics world believe that what he was doing was flying faster than the speed of light to travel back in time, and the producers thought people wouldn’t understand that, which is why they added the earth reversing its rota—”

“Sparky?” Could he hear the smile in my voice?

“Yeah. Sorry, I do that sometimes. Please continue.”

“Thank you. When I saw you, I made the Superman connection. Superman’s name is Clark Kent, and you definitely had the glasses. But you were also awkward in the cutest sort of way, so my mind skipped to the only other Clark it knew—Clark Griswold from those National Lampoon movies. His wife always calls him Sparky.”

“Oh my god.” He laughed. “The only compliment higher than being likened to Superman is being likened to Chevy Chase. He’s the king of dry comedy. So funny.”

“I told you it was far simpler than your Scarlet Rocket name nonsense.”

“Maybe, but it was better. Thanks. I guess I can live with Sparky now.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Pleased with his response, I unfolded from my bunched-up position and relaxed. Maybe telling the truth wasn’t so bad after all…but only in small doses.

“So, what else should we discuss?”

I faked a yawn. “I think we’re done here, right? I mean, we talked on the phone and everything.”

“You seem to hate talking on the phone more than I do, which is a feat.”

I didn’t hate talking to him. Quite the opposite, but getting closer seemed like an even bigger mistake than the ones I’d already made. Talking to someone on the phone on purpose was just a step below matrimony on the commitment scale.

“What are you wearing?” His voice had an added gruff note that sparked all sorts of sexy thoughts.