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If this were a cowboy movie, it’d be one a’ them ones with lotsa UST.
Very drunk, lying on the couch, Hutch insisted he knew everything about me.
Somewhat drunk, lying on the floor, I replied in Ramone’s accent that he knew nothing about me.
“Hey,” I said, getting up unsteadily. “Take off your boots.”
Why did he study my face, confused?
“Can’t sleep in your boots.”
He tried pathetically, without lifting his shoulders.
“Here.” Sliding my hand under his calf, I brought his heel up to rest against my stomach. I unzipped one boot, then the other.
Flushed, he watched me through half-shut eyes.
“You look beautiful,” I said, counting on him forgetting it.
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