the whole time he’s just been gritting his teeth and trying not to…
You know what? Now, I’m just pissed.
Maybe if this motherfucker had ever complimented me, ever said two words about his feelings, ever thought to roll up his sleeves and pleasure me before sex—so that when we did get down to it, he wouldn’t have to go into fucking cadaver mode and wait for me to come—ever made me feel beautiful, wanted, or remotely sexy, then I wouldn’t have spent this whole entire decade feeling like a boner-withering old toad.
Oh, hell no.
Maybe I should show him how it’s done…
Super Private Journal That Ken Is Never, Never Allowed to Read Ever—Entry #4
Hans.
The first time I ever laid eyes on Hans Oppenheimer, he and his band, Phantom Limb, were playing to a crowd of thirty or so at a party being thrown by my friend, Goth Girl.
Goth Girl had recently dropped out of high school in order to devote more time to her burgeoning drug habit, which was being bankrolled by her much older yet equally gothy boyfriend whose house she’d just moved into.
To show off her new digs, Goth Girl threw a total rager, and just to make extra sure that the cops got called, she’d hired her friend’s heavy metal band to play in her manfriend’s living room.
I wasn’t a fan of metal—I’ve always been more of an alternative-rock kind of girl, even when I was pretending to be punk—but the band covered just enough Nine Inch Nails songs to keep me from leaving the room. And the fact that their bass player was a tall, dark drink of Heineken didn’t hurt either.
Once the band finished their set, I disappeared to the kitchen to get another beer. After freshening my Solo cup at the keg, I spun around and careened, face-first, into an unyielding wall of hot muscle and sweat. Stumbling backward, I watched in horror as half of my beer landed with a dramatic splash on the floor, just missing one of the human barricade’s massive black Adidas. Luckily, the giant reached out and grabbed my upper arms to steady me before I completely busted my ass on the keg behind me.
As my eyes made the long journey from his boat-like shoes up to his face, I took a quick mental appraisal. Baggy black pinstriped slacks, chain wallet, slightly damp wifebeater plastered to a seriously bulbous set of six-pack abs, obviously tall as shit, seeing as how I haven’t even made it up to his face yet—
Oh my God! The fucking bass player!
Hoping he was a friendly giant, I donned my best please-don’t-hurt-me-mister smile as I continued to crane my neck the rest of the way back, finally taking in his looming face. This dude could have gotten a walk-on role as one of the bad guys in a Die Hard movie, no problem. His features were severe—jet-black hair violently headbanged into a mop of stabby, sweaty two-inch-long little spears, heavy Neanderthaloid brow impaled with a silver barbell on one side, and a prominent German nose. But his playful gray-blue eyes and pouty lips, which were upturned into an adorably dimpled smile, fought hard to betray his otherwise villainous appearance.
Just looking at him made me feel as though I were standing under a streetlight on a hot summer night. While he was imposingly tall and slender and dark and hard, the glow he cast down on me was nothing short of sunshine.
“Hey, kitten. Going somewhere?”
I managed to squeak out an apology, but when I went to scoot around him to get out of his way, the giant simply snickered and tucked me under his arm. Holding me firmly to his side, he wrapped his long, strong callous fingers around my shoulder and steered me back into the living room. It was a bizarre move, but for some reason, I was helpless to stop the forward progression of my steel-covered toes. It was as if I had been sucked into his cool, self-confident aura, suspended in a magical fairyland where strange men don’t rape drunk teenage girls at parties. Plus, with our height difference, my head fit perfectly under his big tattooed arm.
Mmm…
The raven-haired rocker steered me toward Goth Guy’s black leather sofa, but rather than release me to sit, he effortlessly flopped onto the couch, twisting me on the way down so that we both landed side by side, his arm never leaving my shoulders. During our descent, he also managed to maneuver me so that my legs