If you didn't grow up with country relatives, this grammar might not make a lick of sense.
Bless your heart.
“You like me, don’t you.”
I looked over at the man standing in the kitchen doorway, his arms folded and his feet apart.
“What?”
He tilted his head. “You like me; I can tell,” he said.
I was dumbstruck for a moment while all the blood in my body rushed to my face. “J.D., where the hell’s this coming from?”
“I ain’t into dudes or nothing,” he said, coming to stand by me at the sink, “but I’ll fuck you if you blow me first.”
Finally I found my voice. “Why would I blow you and then let you fuck me? That’s double fun for you. It don’t make no sense.”
He gave me a cocky grin. “Double the cum for you. ‘Course you win.”
I was so embarrassed I felt lightheaded. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“No I ain’t. I seen you ‘round other guys you been sweet on, so I know what it looks like.”
Well, shit. We wasn’t friends, exactly, but it’s a small town and we’re the same age, so we end up running with the same folk.
“Maybe I don’t like getting fucked,” I tried.
J.D. busted out laughing. “Come on, PJ. Remember that thing at Sue Ann’s cabin?”
“Which thing?”
“The bonfire two years ago! All those welders came.”
Ah, that one. When I got my heart broken. Now I remembered. “What about it?”
“Everybody could hear y’all doing it in her bedroom.”
“Breakup sex,” I explained, probably turning redder than a tomato. I’d had a lot of whiskey that night.
“You had a lot to say then,” J.D. teased me. “So don’t try to play shy now.”
“Shut up.” I snapped. “What about Debbie? You got her, so go fuck her.”
“Debbie don’t blow me.”
That ain’t good enough, is what I should say, but I don’t because he’s giving me this we-have-a-secret grin. This is just like when we was kids and I’d be the one saying hey, let’s not go throwing fireworks at Old Man Clampton’s, and then everyone would call me a pussy and I’d hold my ground right until J.D. would throw an arm around my shoulder and say come on, Peej, and I’d say fine.
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