“What?” I frowned as she continued staring at me.
“Shh. I’m thinking.” She stared at me and then looked around again. She looked at the wall and then stopped in front of the photo I’d been staring at. I froze as I realized she’d figured it out. I was upset because I’d been looking at a photo of my mother. How clichéd was I? Typical man with mommy issues. I waited for her to bring it up and start the conversation about my mother. I lay there staring at the ceiling, waiting for her to broach the subject. It was inevitable. Clementine was one for getting everything out in the open. “So, what do you want to do?” She walked back over to the bed and I stared at her through narrowed eyes.
“Huh?” I watched as she joined me on the bed again.
“What shall we do?” She smiled at me and took a swig of her beer and grimaced. I wasn’t sure why she drank beer, as she hated the taste of it.
“What do you want to do?” I sat up, suddenly feeling relaxed again. “And please don’t say you want to give me a lap dance. I’m not sure I can handle two in one night.”
“You wish.” She rolled her eyes at me and I laughed. I looked down at her long legs again for a brief second and looked away.
“Not particularly, I can’t imagine you’d be very good.”
“Excuse me?” Her voice rose.
“I mean that’s not a bad thing.” I gave her my signature Rhett smile. “It’s just a fact. You don’t really know much about moving your hips.”
“You’re an ass**le.” She shook her head.
“Better an ass**le than depressed, right?” I winked at her and I watched as her eyes softened.
“If you ever want to talk about it, you know I’m here, right?” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it softly.
“I’m fine, Clemmie.”
“I know. You da man, Rhett. You’re stronger than He-Man.”
“I’m glad you recognize it.” I took another long chug of the beer.
“Wanna watch a movie?” She put her beer bottle down on the bedside table and lay down.
“As long as it’s not a chick flick.” I lay back next to her and I felt our shoulders rubbing together.
“I can’t promise that there are no chickens in the movie.” She switched the screen to Netflix.
“Can you at least promise that no chickens were hurt in the process of making the movie?” I joked.
“I can promise that I wasn’t hurt in the process of making the movie.”
“Well, that’s good.” I said seriously and we both laughed.
“Okay, what shall we watch?” She flicked through the titles and paused. “What about this?”
“’Date Night’?” I read the title on the screen. “Pass.”
“It’s got Steve Carrell.”
“He’s not funny.”
“Fine.” She groaned and paused again. “What about this?”
“Are you joking?” I gave her a crazy look. “No way in hell am I watching a movie called ‘Beauty and the Briefcase’.”
“You don’t appreciate fine art,” she mumbled and I started laughing.
“You’re not seriously trying to suggest that a movie called Beauty and the Briefcase is a work of art, are you?” I glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “Next thing you’ll be saying is that ‘Zack and Miri Make a Porno’ should have won an Oscar.”
“Very funny, Rhett.” She shook her head at me, but I could see a hint of a smile on her face.
“Would you make a p**n o?” I asked her thoughtfully as she continued flicking through the movies.
“What?” She looked at me like I was crazy. “Hell no.”
“Just asking. No need to bite my head off.”
“Would you make a p**n o?”
“No.” I shook my head and then grinned. “I’d make a sex tape though.”
“Rhett.” She groaned. “Of course you would.”
“Come on now. Don’t knock it.” I laughed. “I think it would be pretty hot to watch me getting it on.”
“I wouldn’t be watching it.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” I laughed and stared at her. “I don’t have any secrets from you.”
“That’s one secret I wouldn’t mind you keeping.”
“So you wouldn’t watch my sex tape?”
“Hell no.” She shuddered. “Would you want to watch mine?”
“I don’t know.” I muttered and felt a pang of something in my stomach even thinking about it. “Likely not.” I frowned at her, images of her in bed having sex with someone crossing through my mind. “That would be gross.”
“It’s gross for me to have a sex tape, but not for you?” She crossed her legs and I watched as her shorts rode even higher up her thighs.
“Let’s not talk about sex tapes.” I grabbed the remote from her. “Let me find a movie.”
“Hey,” She squealed. “I was looking.”
“You’re being too slow.”
“No, I wasn’t. I only paused because you asked me a question.”
“Well, I’m not asking any questions right now.” I kept scrolling. “Hey, what about ‘The Expendables’?”
“Nope,” she exclaimed immediately.
“Fine.” I sighed. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I won’t.” She retorted.
“Dude, Sly Stallone’s in it.”
“Dude, I’m not a dude and I don’t care about Rambo or Rocky or whoever he was.”
“He was Rambo and Rocky.”
“Whatever.” She laughed. “He could have been Barney for all I care. Not interested.”
“What about ‘The Transporter’.” I stopped and grinned at her. “This is a good one. I’ve seen it already.”
“No thanks.” She shook her head and we stared at each other for a few seconds in silence.
“You’re so difficult.” I said finally and she reached over and tried to grab the remote back from me. “Stop.” I held the remote up high as she grabbed my arm.
“Rhett.” She moved over and kneeled next to me. “Give me the remote.”
“Nope.” I laughed as she tried to pull my arm down.
“Rhett.” She said my name in a softer tone now. “Please.”