Nuts About You: A Testicular Cancer Anthology

by Anthology

  “When I win-”

  “If-”

  “When I win, you have to have one of my tacos. The entire thing.”

  “What kind?”

  “I’m going to order the Taco Special.”

  Her face grows skeptical. “Which is?”

  “The Little Red. It has fajita steak, red bell peppers, pico, queso crumbles, and a tabasco based paste sauce.”

  Merrick chimes in, “I’d try it.”

  Brie gags at us both. “What is wrong with the two of you? That’s not a taco!”

  Lifting my pint, I lightly laugh.

  “Just because you put a bunch of random shit in a tortilla doesn’t make it a taco!” She tosses a dirty look to Merrick. “I expected better from you.”

  A confused look of innocence crosses his expression while his girlfriend giggles.

  “And you…” Her irritation finds its way back to me. “Why can’t you just eat normal things at a bar? Like the nachos? And I don’t mean your country’s bizarre version, but the good version, with refried beans and melted cheese, and jalapeños.”

  Jovi leans around to gush. “They’re so good here.”

  Brie waves a hand her best friend’s direction. “See.”

  With an additional chuckle, I remind her, “I would just like to point out, I wanted a different type of taco for my pleasure this evening.”

  The sexual implication pushes her thighs together and lightly flushes her face.

  We didn’t even have time for our morning quickie before she rushed off to class almost late. What? No! It wasn’t my fault…Fine. It wasn’t all my fault. Turns out surprise oral sex at 3 a.m. followed by devouring an entire batch of gourmet cookies can cause a person to sleep through their alarm. Just between you and me? I can’t wait for her to graduate at the end of this semester. I look forward to spending days in bed keeping those long, latte shaded legs over my shoulders…

  She stifles a moan from the thought and caves, “Fine. If you win, I have to eat the unnatural creation you’re going to order, but when I win, I will use your pants as my own personal napkin for the rest of the night. And just so you know…I’m getting extra cheese on my nachos.”

  I glance down at my black suit pants before scoffing, “These are eight hundred dollar pants.”

  “Helping you remember that this is a bar and not The Met is just an added bonus.” The corner of her lip tugs upward. “And The Met as in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Not to be confused with the sports team.”

  “Love, just because I would prefer the sports team to the yawn of the museum doesn’t mean I don’t know the difference.”

  The difference between the two is quite similar to the difference between us. She’s all paintbrushes and canvases while I prefer a pint and a good lacrosse match. Not to imply I’m uncivilized or such. I’m royalty for heaven’s sake. I’ve had more ‘culture’ choke me than someone with a fetish for erotic asphyxiation.

  Flagging the bartender over, I state, “By the way, our version of The Met is called The Rose and it’s in Rockbridge.”

  “Where you’re the Duke?”

  “Yes.”

  “Isn’t that like irony?” She jeers with a giggle. “Guy who hates art is Duke where art is a big deal.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m sure you’ll just absolutely love it when I take you there.”

  All of a sudden her snickering stops and her eyebrows lift. Almost immediately I realize this is one of the few times I’ve ever mentioned her coming back to my country.

  We don’t actually discuss that. I’ve only mentioned visiting once or twice in passing. It’s not as if I’m not opposed to it, it’s just much too early to want to expose her to the trials and tribulations that lay across the ocean.

  The bartender finally arrives in front of us moving the conversation away from the unexplored depths of that conversation. While I order drink refills, shots, and food for the four of us on my tab, the three of them disappear to grab us a table.

  Once the bartender has loaded up a tray for me, I make my way to the corner area where they’ve parked themselves at a circular table. Slightly surprised there was one open with the way the bar seems to be growing more packed by the minute, I carefully place the tray down and taunt, “You sure you’re up for this, love? Might draw an audience. I’d hate for you to lose in front of a crowd.”

  Merrick shakes his head at the same time I place Jovi’s margarita in front of her. “It’s like you don’t wanna get laid tonight.”

  His girlfriend giggles her agreement. “Seriously…”

  If only they knew arguing was like our own special version of foreplay. The harsher the tongue, the harder we end up coming. Sounds a little twisted when I say it out loud…

  “I’m gonna show you how drinking games are handled in this country,” Brie cockily states, scooting her chair in.

  “Poorly?” I mock, placing the last of the shots on the table.

  “Thanks again for the drinks,” Merrick interjects from behind his beer. “And the ride. Appreciate it.”

  I begin to roll up the sleeves of my navy blue shirt. “My pleasure.”

  Might as well allow others to enjoy the benefit that comes from having security detail around the clock. Yes. He’s here. Even now. It’s not like he’s hard to miss. He’s doesn’t quite blend in. He’s the large bloke with the buzzed haircut at the bar nursing a glass of water. Trust me, I’d rather not have someone looming just around the corner, but per the demand of my father, it’s always required. Add that to the list of drawbacks to being a prince. It’s up there with having to sit for family painted portraits.

  With my shirt adjusted, the empty shot glass in the middle of the table, and the shots lined up, I offer her a quarter. “Good luck, love. You’re going to need it.”

  She gives me harsh glare.

  Did I fail to mention while my brother spent his time perfecting his beer pong skills, I mastered the art of strip quarters? What can I say? I rather enjoy when there’s an added challenge to getting a female naked. Gets rather boring having women just offer themselves up like an after dinner mint.

  I motion my hand at the game. “Ladies first.”

  “Go team America!” Jovi cheers from beside her a little too loudly.

  Merrick gives her shoulder a small stroke to calm down.

  Brie gives her best friend an affectionate smile before bouncing the quarter on the table, completely over shooting the coin. She attempts to brush it off. “I needed to warm up.”

  “She’s right! Gotta stretch before you play,” Jovi agrees matter of factly.

  Two margaritas and she’s tipsy already. No wonder he has no interest in playing a game with her. It’d be unfair.

  I give her a sarcastic sympathetic nod and effortlessly toss the coin against the table. The minute it clinks in the glass, disappointment drapes onto her face. Smugly I state, “I believe this is the point where you drink. At least that’s how we play in my country. You know, the country where people can actually get it in the glass.”

  Brie reaches for a shot. “I let you have that one.”

  “You did not!”

  I swear she’s probably the hottest sore sport I’ve ever met.

  She tosses the shot of tequila back and gives the empty glass a strange look. “What is this?”

  “Patron.”

  “That shits not cheap,” Merrick adds.

  “And I’m a gentleman. It would be rude to beat my girlfriend at a bar game and shovel cheap tequila down her throat.” Without waiting for a response, I retrieve my quarter and toss it again, landing it flawlessly once more. “Two in a row. Time to drink again.” After she downs another, I tease, “What shall we do with the leftover shots? Donate them to charity?”

  Brie’s eyes lower to a glower but Jovi lifts her mouth off of her drink to insist, “Merrick and I will be charity!”

  He nods. “Yeah. I completely support charity starting at this table.”

  I chuckle, but my girlf
riend snaps, “That’s not being supportive of Team America!”

  They laugh as I grab my coin. “We’re at a bar, love. They’re supportive of team drinking.”

  She shoots me her middle finger and I wink. “Definitely later.”

  With an annoyed grunt, she commands, “Toss the stupid quarter.”

  “Such hostility,” I mock at the same time the coin clicks in the glass. “Clearly you need to drink again…It might improve your mood.”

  “If I have to drink all five of these, you’re not getting laid,” she warns.

  “Told ya,” Merrick mutters.

  Genuine surprise hits my face. “You’re going to blackmail me into losing? That’s cheating!”

  Brie leans back in her seat with the untaken shot. “Is it? I don’t remember that being mentioned as an unacceptable part of the rules…” When my head falls to the side in disbelief, she adds, “Willing to risk it?”

  I instantly start to snap that I can go one night without being between her thighs when her tongue snakes out to lick the rim of the glass she’s cradling. An image of it being the tip of my cock instead causes me to groan.

  Devil in a red sweater. It’s not even Prada.

  She swallows her loss and slides the glass to join the others. “Still your turn…”

  Torn between my allegiance to my swelling cock and my nagging pride, I twirl the coin around my fingers in debate. A heavy sigh escapes as I prepare to throw the game and allow her a false victory. To no surprise, she smirks about her success prematurely.

  Screw it. I’ll jerk it in the shower.

  With everyone’s eyes on my next move, I bounce the quarter yet again into the glass, this time slyly smiling. “Abstinence will make my dick grow harder. Now drink.”

  The sight of her jaw dropped reiterates that it was worth it.

  I’m honestly praying it was an empty threat.

  “Can’t believe you would rather win than have sex with me.”

  “I wouldn’t. Believe me. Having sex with you is like winning something completely different that I hope no one else ever does.”

  She slightly swoons at the sentiment.

  It’s alright that you did as well. Just know it wasn’t a line. I meant it. Being with Brie is like exploring a new country. She’s covered in alluring curves and has mysteries buried deeper than I’ve ever dug before. Every moment we enjoy together is a moment I question how I ever truly lived without knowing her. Shit. That sounds insanely trite and like it was stolen out of a chick flick starring Ryan Gosling.

  “But,” I promptly push away the stirring feelings, “I will not let you bully me into losing. If that means I have to spend the night with my hand, Margot Rubbie, then so be it.”

  No. No. That one was clever! It’s a play off the actress who stars as Harley Quinn in the Suicide Squad movie. Come on. It’s better than the classic Handjalina Jolie and Palmela Anderson.

  “Using sex as a weapon won’t work this time, love. I’m gonna win and you’re just going to have to lose fairly.”

  “Yes!” Merrick tosses his hand to mine for a high five.

  Jovi looks surprised at his behavior.

  I am too a little bit, but it beats the hell out of him biting my head off.

  He rushes to explain, “Hey, I get where he’s coming from. You chicks have all these little sexy mind games you play knowing we would rather be buried deep inside of you than win a stupid game. It’s just…cool to see someone go against the grain for once.”

  The two women roll their eyes at the comment.

  Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me when you can use your low cut top or push up bra to your advantage, you don’t. Mmmhm. Precisely.

  Brie finishes her fourth shot and snips, “You just wait until it’s my turn. You’ll be slamming back the remaining four of those.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I brush off. “When I make this next shot you will be munching down on the wild combination of The Little Red taco.”

  Saying that out loud did sound like a disgusting version of the euphemism I was implying earlier.

  She waves her hands at me in a taunting fashion.

  I retrieve the quarter, instantly take my final turn, and toss my fist into the air at my flawless victory. “Doctenn for the win!”

  Jovi tries to comfort her quietly while her best friend reaches for the glass, “Sorry, Brie. Was hoping you’d bring home the gold…”

  The Olympics reference summons the smirk back to my face. “We beat you in several categories there too. Most of them involving liquid as well.”

  “You sir, are a royal dick,” Brie bites and downs the shot.

  “And you madam are always welcome to see the royal dick.” I gesture towards my cock.

  “Not at the fucking table,” Merrick quickly growls and puts his arm back around his girlfriend’s chair.

  See what I mean. He despises the idea of any other male being mentioned in her presence in a sexual sense. It’s a bit much, but maybe that’s how people get when they’re in love? I’ve only been with Brie for a couple weeks and have already found myself having to stifle the urge to cringe when she mentions other men from her classes. Does this get worse, the deeper you feel about someone?

  Brie lifts her quarter and sighs, “I may not win, but that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna try to take you down as far as you’ll go.”

  I helplessly grin. “Are we still referencing this drinking game?”

  She gags and gives the quarter a toss. When she misses, she loudly gripes, “Sonofabitch!”

  “The object is to get it in the glass.” My mocking receives a dirty look and I surrender my hands in the air. “Merely trying to give some advice.”

  Brie snatches the coin and throws it again, bouncing it off the edge. Seeing the rage boil, I simply press my balled fist to my lips to prevent from insuring she sticks to her word about not putting out.

  I think she was bluffing before but that doesn’t mean I want to test it.

  With new found concentration, she takes a moment to line up her shot. The three of us watch as the coin gracefully lands inside and she tosses her hands up in praise. “Finally! Drink!”

  I grab a shot, toast it her direction, and let the silver liquid smoothly take its course. Afterward, I wipe away the runaway droplet from the corner of my mouth. “Last chance, love. Make it count.”

  “Don’t try to psych me out,” she scolds.

  “I was trying to be encouraging.”

  “You were not.”

  I actually was. I enjoy the look of joy that swarms her eyes when she wins something. It’s sexy and captivating.

  The quarter lands again in the glass provoking both her and Jovi to squeal in excitement.

  Merrick lets a small smile hit his lips at his girlfriend’s enthusiasm.

  I take my shot at the same time the waitress makes her way over with much needed reinforcements. While the brunette in the crop top clears away the empty glasses with haste, including Jovi’s empty margarita glass and Merrick’s beer mug, she takes her time overstretching her body to place the food down in front of me and Merrick.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Brie fighting the instinct to snap, which is when I slide a hand on her thigh and ask, “Do you mind if I have one of your nachos, love? I got the jalapenos on the side in hopes you wouldn’t mind sharing.”

  She lets a small smile crawl to her lips from the simple territory marking gesture.

  “Of course,” she coos back before looking up at the lingering waitress. “Can we get a round of waters and some extra salsa?”

  The brunette gives us a polite, curt nod before scampering away.

  Strange thing is, if Brie’s demeanor hadn’t changed, I wouldn’t have thought twice about the waitress's trashy tactics. That’s just the way my mind has worked ever since I bombarded my way into Brie's world.

  We spread spare plates, napkins, and silverware for the splitting of the two orders of fully loaded nachos and queso. As we pile food o
nto the plates, the waitress returns with the items, but doesn’t bother throwing herself at us a second time in hopes of an extra tip.

  Of either kind.

  “Time to pay up.” Seeing Brie’s reluctance restores my smirk. “You want me to put one on your plate?”

  “I don’t want that demon disguised in a tortilla anywhere near my nachos.” She moves her plate to the side and scoots closer to me. After giving it a long stare, Brie leans over so her lips bump against my ear. “How about I have one bite of that in exchange for one good taste of you?”