North and Shaw Out of Office - Gregory Ashe Page 0,13

was like an iron bar, and to be totally honest, Shaw wasn’t trying very hard.

“That’s adorable.”

Shaw finally managed to squirm free. “We’re not. He’s not. He’s—he’s married!”

North shrugged.

The woman bent forward and touched Shaw’s wrist. “Honey, we’ve all been down that road. Good luck. You don’t want to throw away eight years.”

This time, North was the one who led the way, and Shaw stumbled after him. “I don’t really think you should be pretending we’re—well, you know—I mean, North, what if—what about—I mean, Tuck would kill me if he found out.”

“We’ve been together for eight years,” North said without slowing. “Floormates in the dorm, then friends, then roommates, then partners.”

“I don’t think she was asking how long we’d been floormates.”

“Then she should have been more specific.”

The girls in yoga pants were buried in their phones.

“What?” one said, tossing her ponytail to give North the eye and then returning her attention to the device. “Long skirts?”

“No,” another said, shaking her head as she stole sidelong glances at them. “A really skinny lady working here? Huh uh.”

“There’s a pony farm,” the third girl squealed. “Oh my God, you guys should totally come with us. We left Chase in Chicago because he absolutely won’t drive south of I-80, but we’re just dying without our gay bff, and you guys could, like, totally hang.”

“That sounds—” Shaw started.

North looked like something had gotten stuck in his throat. He grabbed Shaw’s arm. “No. We can’t.”

“Yeah, I think it’ll work out,” Shaw said. “Baby, you promised we weren’t going to be recluses this time. I want to go with them to the pony farm.”

“Absolutely not.”

Shaw lowered his voice. The girls had completely forgotten their phones and were staring. “Baby, after I did that thing, the other night, when I had you in the sling and I did that thing with—” His voice dropped again. “—with my tongue, you promised I could have whatever I wanted on this trip.”

North was so red that Shaw thought, for a moment, he was going to spontaneously combust. He was actually sweating.

“Listen, I’ll just—I think I forgot—” North didn’t even finish. He just stumbled away, and his foot twisted out from under him after about two yards, and he barely caught himself before falling. With a flushed, glassy-eyed look back at Shaw, of all people, he picked up his pace, practically sprinting toward the lesbian couple.

“He’s really shy,” Shaw said. “And he’s still married, technically, so you know.”

There was a chorus of tragic oh my gods. “Stanton was totally married when I met him,” one of the girls said, flashing a massive rock on her hand, “and it was awful. He always made me go to dinner so early. Like, five-thirty. Just so Beneatha wouldn’t catch us. She died, though. Can you believe the luck?” All three girls pitched in with perfectly timed laughter.

“I better check on him,” Shaw said.

“If you change your mind, we’re going to savage this place on Google and then head up to the pony farm.” The girl tossed her hair again. “Tell him we think you two are super cute!”

“They think we’re super cute,” Shaw said as he joined North, who was talking to the lesbian couple.

The women eyed them. One, petite, shrugged and said, “I don’t see it.”

The other, wearing a leather biker jacket, said, “Big and blond doesn’t really do it for me, but you, on the other hand. I like them skinny, and I could use you as a toothpick.”

“Like a toothpick,” North repeated. “Did you hear that, Shaw?”

“We were just telling your boyfriend that we saw that lady, the one with the skirt, this morning.”

“At the goat-yoga class?”

The petite one shook her head. “Really early. Abbas,” she said, pointing to the teenage boy, “still has trouble sleeping, and he got up and went for a run. I got up too and sat on the porch, drank my coffee. I didn’t think anything was going to happen to him, but I wanted to be up anyway.”

“Something happened to those goats,” Biker Jacket said. “Awiti, get down off that hill before I blister your ass.”

“Jane,” the petite woman said, clutching Biker Jacket’s arm. “We talked about—”

“Right now, young lady!”

“Where did you see the woman in the skirt?” Shaw asked.

“Jane, I really don’t think we should be swearing.”

“Was she by the barn?” Shaw said.

“Awiti. Awiti! Fine. Here I come.”

Jane—Biker Jacket—took off toward the kids, who shrieked and split up, laughing as they ran.

The petite woman was chewing her lip.

“You’ve got your hands full,” North said. “Can