A Kiss For You

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I hated Rodney for what he’d done to all of us and found myself scowling at the memory of him, but I brushed it off and bucked up, smiling again with a shrug.

  “Anyway, his loss. And now I find out that Diddle grew up to be Bodie, the super-hot surfer hunk. I would have bet a million dildos that I’d never see him again and been wrong, and I’ve never been so glad to be wrong in my life. He was incredible. Life-changing. He’s real smart too. I mean, he was always a brainiac in high school, and now he does … something in computers, I think.”

  I got a look from Veronica. “You don’t know what he does for a living?”

  I made a noise like an air leak. “You are such a judgy whore, Ronnie. One of these days, the tables are gonna be turned, but instead of being all Oh, look at me. I’m so perfect and smart and do everything right,” I mocked, “I’ll be like, Way to go, bitch! and buy you a really big, whorey penis cake.”

  She laughed.

  “I’m gonna tell the erotic baker to make it spurt vanilla icing. I’ll have them make licorice pubes and everything. Dick cake. It’s genius really — two of my favorite things. And that’s what you have to look forward to — no judgment.”

  Veronica shook her head, though she looked entirely amused. “You are so bad, Penny.”

  “I am. And I’m just like a bad penny too. I always turn up. There’s no getting rid of me.”

  “Wouldn’t want it any other way.” She slung an arm over my shoulder. “You’re a good friend—”

  “Thank you,” I said sweetly.

  “Even if you’re disgusting.”

  I leaned into her as we walked up to Tonic’s door. “Aw, I love you too.”

  Ramona pulled open the door, and Veronica and I walked in, still canoodling. “Precious” by The Pretenders played over the speakers.

  “Look, Ronnie — it’s your song!”

  She laughed, slapping me on the ass when we parted.

  Ramona beelined for the counter where Shep waited, smiling from behind his thick beard. I swear to God, he and his brother, Joel, had the most virile hair of any men I’d ever seen.

  She practically jumped into his big, meaty arms. Ramona was a tiny blonde thing covered in tattoos, and he was a big, hairy beast with a smile only for her.

  I found myself smiling too, watching how gross they were. They almost made me wish I wanted to fall in love.

  The thought actually made me laugh out loud.

  I made my way to my station in the back and stepped into my little cube to get myself situated.

  Tonic was one of the premier tattoo parlors in Manhattan, so good that most of us were booked out for months. Joel and Shep had opened it forever ago and had curated some of the best talent in the city — so much talent that they got attention in the way of awards, magazine features, and even a deal with a TV studio.

  About a year before, we’d started filming a reality show in the shop, which basically turned the place into a telenovela. Drama city. But man, was it fun, and everyone had seemed to get it all out of their systems in the first season. Season two would start filming soon, kicking off with Ramona and Shep’s wedding.

  I sat at my desk, humming along to Stone Temple Pilots, pulling out my sketchbook to work on a piece for that afternoon, and in a snap, the day was nearly gone. My thoughts had been on Bodie the whole time.

  I wondered all sorts of things — what was he doing? Where had he been all those years? Where the fuck did he learn to bang like that? What had happened to the kid I knew so long ago?

  I’d always liked Diddle. I remembered him making me laugh, even when I was sad, the snark in him appealing to the snark in me. I never thought about him like I had been since running into him, and now it bothered me a little that I’d been so shallow back then. Of course, I was sixteen and had been obsessed with a complete and utter dickhole. I’d had no sense. None. If I had, I’d have dumped Rodney and found somebody who at least had a little respect for me and wouldn’t give Anna Dorf rides home from school, which I’d later learned was code for blow jobs.

  One time, we had all at a bonfire on the beach for a kegger, and Rodney just left me there. One minute he was there, the next, poof, I had been stranded at the beach with no ride home.

  I’d been sitting away from the crowd, drunk and crying and dejected, and Bodie had sat next to me with his drink. He hadn’t asked me what was wrong or pointed out that I was crying. He hadn’t mentioned Rodney at all. He’d just sat there with me until my tears ran dry, and then he’d asked me if I’d ever seen Donnie Darko. And for the next hour, we’d talked about a hundred other things — movies and music, our teachers and school gossip — and by the end of the night, I’d felt like I was going to be okay after all. He’d asked me if I needed a ride home and delivered me safely at my doorstep like a white knight.

  It was maybe one of the nicest things a guy had ever done for me without expectation on how they’d be repaid. Bodie had given exactly what I needed in the moment without me having to ask. He’d just known.

  And now … now Diddle had gone and grown up, and boy, had he grown up right.

  I couldn’t help but smile, my heart all flippy and fluttery and ooey and gooey. I thought about all the things he’d done to me and thought about how many more I wanted him to do. I imagined his body, so strong and hard, his smile, so bright and gorgeous, and then smiled even wider at the knowledge that those braces that had helped disguise him back then had granted me that smile.

  I thought about his lips and how they were the exact same shade as the head of his cock, just like I’d figured. And then I was thinking about his cock and clenching the saddle stool between my thighs to relieve the pressure. Three shifts of my hips, and I probably would have had an orgasm. That was just how ridiculously hot I was for him.

  I didn’t even know why he was any different from the other dudes I’d dated. I’d been with plenty of guys — hot guys, funny guys, smart guys, dumb guys. Rich guys, poor guys, and more. But Bodie was like the best of all of them, rolled into one. If I could have hand picked a guy, with the brains, looks, attitude, and wang skills I wished for, it would be him.

  And now I couldn’t stop thinking about him, couldn’t stop wondering when I’d see him again. And I wanted to see him again as soon as possible even if it was too soon.

  Maybe it was just because I’d known him so long ago. Maybe it was because he’d nailed me into oblivion. Maybe I was just infatuated, which was my primary function.

  All I knew was this: I was so very impressed, and it was so very hard to impress me.

  Once, I’d heard Patrick, one of the other tattoo artists, joking about a chick being dicknotized. And the word hit me as my needle buzzed in my hand, working on an elaborate henna design on a girl’s thigh.

  I was dicknotized.

  I laughed way louder than was appropriate, thankful for having the foresight to have moved my gun, since the girl in my chair jumped a mile.

  “Sorry,” I said through my giggling as I got back to work. “So, I have to warn you. I’m a verbal processor, and there’s something I’ve gotta talk out. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Have you ever had dick so good that you can’t ever forget it? Like, you’re obsessed with it?”

  “I’m a lesbian.”

  I rolled my eyes and traced the purple lines of the transfer on her thigh. “Oh, come on, killjoy. Voodoo pussy. Ever have one?”

  She sighed wistfully. “Yeah. Her name was Brandie.”

  “Ha! Mine’s Bodie. Maybe they’re gender twins. So, what’s the story with Brandie? Did you get over her VP? Ever forget it?”

  “Nope. Never.”

  I frowned. “Well, the problem for me is that my dick is temporary.”

  “How come? Is he, like, from Austria or something?”

  One of my brows rose. “That’s really specific, but no. He isn’t leaving the country.”

  “So, what? Is he not into you?”

  I laughed. “Oh,
I’m pretty sure he’s into me. Like, all the way in, if you catch my drift.”

  “Yeah, I think I get it,” she deadpanned. “So, what’s the problem? He married?”

  “No, not married either. Just … I don’t know. I’m not really the settle-down type. I’ve dated more guys than I have lipstick, and I have a metric fuck-ton of lipstick. As in like a grand total of twenty-thousand-Sephora-points fuck-ton.”

  She snickered.

  “I wonder if a couple more hook-ups might get him out of my system?”

  She shook her head at me like she felt sorry for me.

  “What? That’s a valid, reasonable question. And entirely possible. Maybe he’ll be super stinky or gross next time. Or maybe he never flosses.”

  “No one flosses.”

  I gave her a look. “Seriously, do you even know how to have fun?”

  She gave me a look back.

  “I like you,” I said with a smile. “And I predict that in two more meetings with his magnificent hammerhead, I will have had it all fucked out of my system.”

  “Why two more?”

  “Because, by the end of date three, it always goes south. Usually it’s about them turning into crazies or coming on too strong. It’s just like on The Golden Girls. Dudes propose to Blanche like she’s the last woman on earth, and within a week of meeting her. She always turns them down though, that sassy bitch. She’s my guru. When I don’t know what to do, I just ask myself, What would Blanche do?”

  “So, what would Blanche do?”

  I thought about it. “Well, she’d bang him until it got weird and then kiss him goodbye, wiggling out the door, twiddling her fingers at him.”

  “Why not do that?”

  “Ugh, I hate the thought of it getting weird, that’s why. It’s easier to just bolt before it happens. I’ve gotten so good at dipping out of the third-date situation.”

  “Mmm,” she said noncommittally. “When will you see him for date two?”

  I frowned. “I don’t know. Date one was last night, and I’m still recovering. Physically. You know, because he nailed me so hard.”

  “Naturally.”

  “I have two whole bangs left, so I’ve gotta make the most of it. I need to maximize my bang-to-date ratio. But, if I could do whatever I wanted, I’d see him tonight. Or now. You don’t mind if I just go, do you?”

  She laughed. “Sure, and this is free, right?”

  “Obviously.”

  I sighed, gun buzzing up my arm as I kept working. “He’s exactly what I need right now.”

  “So are you going to call him?”

  I frowned. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”

  “Hold up,” Ramona said from the wall of my booth, startling me.

  “Jesus,” I said, heart jumping. “I’ve got a tattoo gun in my hand, asshole. Give a warning cough or something.”

  “Sorry. I was eavesdropping and have unsolicited thoughts to share.”

  “Well, by all means, do tell.” I gestured for her to go ahead.

  “Since when do you follow rules? If you want to bang, call him and bang.”

  I nodded my head as I considered it. “I approve of your logic.”

  “I mean, what are you afraid of? That he’ll think you’re coming on too strong?”

  We both laughed real loud at that. As if I knew another way to come on.

  “Seriously though,” Ramona said, “if you want to call him, call him.”

  I really wanted to, but the rule had been so deeply ingrained in my brain that I struggled to override it.

  “Penny, if he called you right now and asked you over, what would you do?”

  “Pretend I got diarrhea so I could leave,” I answered without hesitation.

  Ramona nodded. “That’s what I thought. Also, someday you’re going to try that line and it’s not going to work.”

  I waved her off with a laugh. “Please. No one questions diarrhea.” I turned to the girl in my chair for the final word. “What do you think? Honest answer, no bullshit.”

  She smirked. “I say, go get that dick.”

  So I laughed and decided to do just that.

  I was so deep in the code on my screen that afternoon that I almost missed my phone buzzing on the desk. And that would have been a goddamn shame because it was a one-worded text from Penny.

  Question.

  Insta-smile happened as I picked up my phone, sat back in my chair, and typed.

  Answer.

  Little dots bounced.

  Would you think I was needy if I wanted to see you again tonight?

  It would be a little hypocritical of me to judge.

  More dots as she typed, and I stared at my phone with a healthy helping of disbelief.

  It hadn’t even been a day, and here she was, asking to see me — the girl who didn’t date. And maybe it was nothing. All I knew was that I’d gone to bed with a smile on my lips and her face in my thoughts, and I’d woken up exactly the same way. My mind had been rolling her around like a fine wine, appreciating every second I’d had with her over and over again. And if I had a chance to see her again, I’d take it, and I’d use it.

  So, sounds like we’re both needy then. What to do, what to do?

  I typed back, my smile stretching. I could think of a thing or two. Or three. If you come over later, I can show you. I’ll have visual aids.

  Tell me there will be graphs. I love a good graph.

  I laughed out loud, garnering looks from Phil and Jude, who flanked me at their monitors.

  Girl, I’ve got graphs like you’ve never seen. Big, long graphs, packed with data I compiled all by myself.

  Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty to me. I’m off at 8. Be there around 8:30?

  Good. And make sure you don’t have panties on.

  Too late.

  I set my phone down and leaned back in my chair, sighing, knowing I looked like a sap. My saving grace was that I was thinking about all the places I’d fuck Penny in my apartment in a few hours.

  “Was that her?” Jude asked, looking like a hyperactive puppy.

  “Yeah. She’s coming over tonight.”

  Jude shook his head. “Man, I cannot believe you bagged Penny. After all this time. I guess your high school voodoo shrine in your closet didn’t completely go to waste.”

  My face went flat. “I didn’t have a shrine.”

  Phil snorted. “You kept a gum wrapper from a stick of Wrigley’s she gave you junior year.”

  “Fuck you. It had her number on it.”

  “Sure it did, buddy. What about that broken bracelet you kept of hers?”

  I rolled my eyes and chuffed. “She asked me to fix it.”

  “But you didn’t,” Jude shot.

  “Because it was too broken,” I volleyed.

  “Then why didn’t you give it back to her?”

  “Because it was fucking broken, and I didn’t want to admit it to her, dick.”

  Jude gave me a look. “You wanted to keep it.”

  “Jesus, I’m not arguing with you about this, Jude.” He was right. I’d never tell him. “She’s coming over tonight at eight-thirty, so I need you guys to … you know. Leave.”

  Phil frowned. “Man, we were supposed to work tonight.”

  “Yep, and now you two are going to work at Angie’s.”

  Phil pouted. “I won’t get any work done, though. I can’t be with Angie and not hang out with her.”

  “You’ll find a way.”

  Jude perked up. “Philly, ask her to make those blondie things she makes. Or brownies. Or, like, she can bake anything because I want to eat her sweets.”

  Phil’s face hardened. “You’re not eating my girlfriend’s sweets. Those sweets are mine.”

  Jude put his hands up. “Easy there. I’m talking about the baked goods, not the baker.”

  Phil was still pouting. “I can’t believe we’re getting kicked out so you can nail Penny. No,” he said with a shake of his head, “I can’t believe you�
��re actually nailing Penny. Is she the same as she was in high school?”

  I thought about it. “Yes and no. She’s just … more now. People love to say they don’t give a fuck, but Penny actually means it. She’s got her own gravity, and it’s so hard not to want to know her, want to orbit her, even if just for a minute. When she walks in a room, everyone turns to look. But she was always that way. It was why Rod picked her out to torture in high school; he wanted to rein the brightest star and treat her like his pet.”

  “Ugh, that dick.” Jude folded his arms. “Penny was so gone for him, and he didn’t give a single shit about her. While she was gushing over their six-month anniversary, he was bragging about the laundry list of girls he’d fucked behind the bleachers. And she had no idea, not for two full years. She was stupid for him.”

  I sighed. “Well, seems Penny has flipped. She doesn’t do dating. Ever, apparently.”

  Phil pushed his glasses up his nose. “Do you think it’s because of Roddy?”

  “I don’t know.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I guess it’s possible. I don’t know how many times I found her abandoned at a party or crying after one of their fights. It was like I had a sixth sense for her. I’d just stumble onto her and know how to make her feel better.” I sighed. “All I know is that she says she doesn’t do feelings and wants no strings, which is fine. For now.”

  Jude jacked a brow at me. “For now?”

  I shrugged. “If I make myself indispensable, maybe I can hang onto her. I’ve got a shot, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna waste it.”

  “You sure that’s wise?” he asked. “I mean, aside from the fact that she told you she didn’t want anything serious.”

  “I’m not saying I want anything serious. I’m saying I have a feeling what she means is she doesn’t want anything complicated.”