Push(26)

U had better b wearing those shoes...


Why?


Because I had to f*ck a certain someone up to get the left one back.


WHAT????


He wouldn’t give it to me voluntarily.


Jesus, David. U should have let him have it.


I did.


I meant the shoe.


No way in hell.


R u ok?


Did I look ok this morning?


Yes. Sort of.


That’s because I won.


The elevator arrives, and I shuffle inside. Matt is there, too, along with three other guys. I am engulfed in David’s text and don’t even look up. One of them pushes the lobby button, and we head down. I want to ask David if Brad is all right, but then I decide that’s a very bad idea. Clearly David knows his friends well, and I’m beginning to think that jacking off to a box of tampons is, in fact, not above any of them. Why did I think my little game would end differently? Still, knowing that David kicked the crap out of one of his friends just to get my damn shoe back is kind of arousing. It makes me wonder what else he would do for me. The elevator door opens, and I walk absently through the lobby as I type my reply.


Should I come out of the building ass up for your victory parade?


I walk out the front door of the building with Matt and the other three guys flanking me. One of them holds the door open for me, but I don’t see who it is because my face is still aimed at the phone.


No.


Shit. He is pissed about me giving my shoe to Brad. Then, why show up here at all? Why not make me take the bus home? Why not just let Brad have the shoe...and me, for that matter?
“Bye, Emma,” says Matt. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay. See you then,” I say, looking up at Matt who is now standing in front of me. I am flustered about David’s text, and I can feel my skin heating.
“Are you okay?” asks Matt.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I say quietly. “I, um, I just got a confusing text, that’s all.” And then I see David. He is walking straight toward us. No, he’s not walking exactly. He’s striding. Like a real bad-ass. Like some movie guy about to take over the world. I can’t look anywhere else. I want to smile at him or something, but my face is frozen because I don’t know what the hell is happening. His eyes are locked on mine and when he gets to us, he reaches for my waist, pulls me against him roughly, and kisses me hard. My hands are dangling at my sides, but I kiss him back like a sailor. Our teeth click together, and I push my hips into him. It is a long kiss. The kind that makes me want to sink to my knees. When David pulls away, he is still holding on to my waist and looking right at me. Fucking hell.
“We should go,” David says, and I watch his face turn toward Matt who, for some unknown reason, is still standing next to me.
“Okay,” I say as David lets me go. I give Matt a sideways smile and a nod. As David and I walk side by side away from the building, he snakes his hand across my back and around to my other hip. His fingers squeeze into me as he pulls me close to his side. It is the same sign of possession he displayed to Michael. And now he is doing it to Matt. I can see Matt in my peripheral vision, standing there with his mouth open, watching us walk away.
David and I walk down Wood Street and into a parking garage. He keeps his arm around my waist the entire time but doesn’t say a word. I can hear him breathing as we walk, and an image of a fire-breathing dragon pops into my head. I can tell he is angry. I can tell because of his silence. Because of the way he is breathing. Because of the rigidity in the arm that is wrapped around me. But he can’t be that angry, right? Otherwise he wouldn’t be here. It’s bullshit.
“Tell me what you’re so mad about.” I say as we walk down the rows of cars.
“Mad?” he questions, an eerie calm in his voice. He stops in the middle of the lane, disconnects from my waist, and looks at me quizzically. “You think I’m mad?”
“Yes, I do,” Does this mean that he isn’t mad? If this isn’t anger I’m sensing, what is it? “Look, if it’s because of the shoe thing, I’m sorry. I didn’t know my joke was going to end in warfare. I thought he would do what he promised he would. I thought he would give you the shoe and my message and be done with it. You can’t be pissed off at me because your friend decided to be a dick.”
“My friend didn’t decide to be a dick, Emma. He’s always a dick. They all are. I told you that already. And I’m not f*cking mad about the shoe. I enjoyed wiping the floor with Brad. It was a long time coming. Whatever message you gave him never made it to me. He called a bet with your shoe, dropped it on the poker table, and told me you were one hell of a screw. I though he stole it from your place the other day. What was I supposed to do?” He really isn’t angry about it. In fact, he’s quite relaxed.
I, on the other hand, am anything but relaxed. “That f*cking *,” I say bitterly. “I am going to run him over with his own goddamned lawnmower the next time I see him.” Now I am the dragon, and if I knew where Brad lived, I would burn his f*cking house down right now. I can feel the swell of rage boil up under my skin. It makes me wish I had someone to hit.
“Ah, so that’s how you met him,” David says. “Now I get it.”
“You might not be pissed off about this, but I sure as shit am,” I sneer. “I was feeling guilty as hell about the guy getting beat up, but now, now I want to punch his teeth out myself.” I think David is a little startled at the extent of my anger. He takes a small step backwards and puts on a tiny, sideways grin. I forgot how much he enjoys seeing me angry.