Until Trevor (Until, #2)(33)

I look at him, getting ready to scream my head off and tell him that he is not the boss of me, he can't tell me what to do, what to wear, or carry me around whenever he feels like it. Just as I'm about to flip the hell out, I hear the dog door open. I look over, expecting to see Lolly, but instead, I see a little pink nose poke inside, then a small, round, black head. I blink a few times, trying to see if I have somehow imagined this, then a long, black body, with a white stripe down the center, starts to climb the rest of the way inside.

"Trevor," I whisper, trying to get his attention. His head is in the fridge so he doesn't hear me. "Trevor," I whisper a little louder this time, as I start to get up on the counter. The skunk is now near Lolly’s dog dish, where he starts to eat the food. "Oh my God!" I cry, covering my mouth.

Trevor turns around; he looks up at me and smiles. "You gonna attack me?"

I frantically start shaking my head no. He walks over to me, and growls, “Jesus, this is the perfect position for me to eat the f*ck out of your sweet *.” He slides his hands up the back of my calves. His face going between my legs, I can feel him take a deep breath.

“Trevor,” I whisper again, trying to push his face away with one hand.

“What?” He tilts his head back; his eyebrows come together when he looks up at me. My mouth is still covered. I point over his shoulder, and he turns his head and looks down.

"What the f*ck?" he says, jumping, stumbling back, banging into the counter, and then his hands go to the counter behind him. He jumps so that he’s standing on top of it with me. “That’s a skunk,” he says, taking a step back from the edge of the counter.

“No shit, Sherlock!” I laugh, still covering my mouth. I can’t help it; the look on his face is hilarious. His eyes narrow and I bite my lip to keep from cracking up. I do not want to set the skunk off. “You need to get rid of it,” I tell him, looking down at the skunk, who is happily chowing away on the dog food.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“I have no idea. You’re the one who has the penis, and the one who likes to boss everyone around all the time; I'm sure you can figure it out.”

“You still pissed about not wearing your shorts?”

“Oh my God, Trevor!” I hiss, “There is a skunk.” I fling my arm out to show him the skunk, in case he forgot. “You want to talk about this right now?”

“Baby,” he laughs, “Calm down.” He pulls my face towards him by the back of my neck and kisses me. When he pulls his mouth from mine, we’re both breathing heavily. “I love your lips,” he says, biting my lower lip, giving it a tug.

“The skunk.” I remind the two of us. Leaning into him, he pulls away, looking down at the ground. The skunk is looking up at us, where we’re standing on the counter. “Where is Lolly?” I ask. The skunk hasn’t moved from its spot on the floor where he’s staring at us.

“I don’t know. Hopefully she doesn’t come inside right now.”

“What are we going to do?” I whisper. The skunk starts walking around the kitchen, then slowly makes it way to the dog door, where he pauses, looks up at us again, and starts to lift its tail. I bury my face in Trevor’s chest.

“It’s gone,” Trevor says, after a second, he jumps off the counter, walking towards the dog door. Just then, the dog door starts to push open, and Trevor flies back towards me, hopping on the counter as Lolly shoves through the door. “Holy shit,” he sighs in relief, jumping down from the counter again, running to the door, and sliding the latch in place. “Looks like we’re going to have to start making sure to lock this when it’s dark.”

“I can’t believe that just happened.” I hop off the counter and go over to Lolly, who is scratching at the dog door, trying to find a way to break out.

“I wonder if that’s the first time we had an uninvited guest,” Trevor says, going to the sink to wash his hands.

“I don’t even want to know; can you imagine getting up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, and getting sprayed by a skunk in the process.”

“Hell no. Guess that’s the price you pay for living in the country.”

“Why did you buy this place?” I love this house, but it needs work.

“The land; I wanted something outside of town, where I could have a party or ride my dirt bike without having to worry about neighbors.” He walks across the kitchen, grabbing my hips, lifting me back onto the counter.

“You really need to stop toting me around,” I glare at him.

“Why?” He looks at me like I just asked him to stop showering for a month. I take a deep breath.

“I don’t like it.”

“Yes, you do.” He walks across the kitchen, getting the bread out of the breadbox.

“Actually, I hate it when you do it.” I don’t really hate it, but I do find it annoying a lot of times when I'm trying to do something, and he just carries me off or moves me without giving me a chance to do what I want.

“You don’t hate it.” “You want to know how I know you don’t hate it?” He looks at me, raising an eyebrow.

“This should be good,” I mumble, watching him make his sandwich. I'm half tempted to stop him from finishing. He doesn’t even make sure that the mayo and mustard are spread evenly on the bread; he just globs it on there. I look up when he starts laughing. “What?”