Chocoholics: Love And Lists Part 17

Gavin looks over my shoulder and his smile instantly falls. "Oh s.h.i.+t. He's serious."

"Run, Virginityman, run!" Tyler shouts.

Hand in hand with Charlotte, we walk around to the back of her parents' house. It's no longer her house anymore since she moved into my apartment last week.

Can I get a round of applause, folks?! Or maybe just a "f.u.c.k YEAH!"?

"This is so weird. Just a few months ago I was making this same walk with Tyler, giving myself a pep talk about my list," I tell Charlotte with a laugh.

"Yeah, well I was inside the house at that same time freaking out about whether or not Rocco was going to be convincing as my boyfriend," she replies.

"I'm so glad I never killed him. He has great taste in shoes." I look down at her platform wedges that make her long legs look f.u.c.king hot.

"Don't even think about it, Gavin. We are not sneaking off into the bushes to have s.e.x at my parents' house," Charlotte warns me as I continue to stare at her legs while we walk.

"That's probably a wise decision since I'm pretty sure my puke is still in those bushes."

Once Charlotte finally came clean that she and Rocco were never really dating, he and I actually became good friends. I've had to put him in his place a few times when he makes comments about my great a.s.s, but all in all, having a gay dude as a friend is pretty awesome. I pretend like I never hated him or wished that a rabid infestation of crabs would chew off his d.i.c.k, and he takes me shopping to pick out s.e.xy shoes and lingerie for Charlotte. It's perfect.

I'm still working my a.s.s off at Seduction and Snacks and loving every minute of it, especially now that I have a new co-worker. Charlotte accepted a position as the new Media Sales Rep for the business, and Aunt Liz couldn't be happier. We all decided that from now on it would be a good idea for her to do the ribbon cutting ceremonies at s.e.x toy shops. Less chance of humiliating newspaper headlines that way since I'm pretty sure Charlotte won't be ODing on v.i.a.g.r.a anytime soon. At least I hope not. I wonder what v.i.a.g.r.a does to a v.a.g.i.n.a? I should ask Uncle Drew. I'm sure he knows.

As soon as we get to the back yard, we're immediately greeted by the sounds of screaming.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"What the f.u.c.k is that?" I ask Uncle Drew as he walks up to us.

"That, my little a.s.shole, is a screaming goat. Molly showed me this awesome video on YouTube and I had to get one," Uncle Drew says with a huge smile.

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Uncle Drew turns around and points proudly to a little black and white goat tied to one of Aunt Liz and Uncle Jim's trees. "Isn't she cute? Her name is Taylor Swift."

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" the goat screams as she looks right at us.

"I don't even understand what is happening right now," I reply with a shake of my head.

"I've been trying to teach her-"

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"How to sing a-"

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Song, but she never comes in at the right-"

"GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"SON OF A b.i.t.c.h, TAYLOR SWIFT! I TOLD YOU, NOT UNTIL THE CHORUS!" Uncle Drew yells across the yard as he turns and walks away from us.

"Do you think Uncle Drew is ever going to grow up?" Charlotte asks me as we watch him have a conversation with the goat, his arms flying in every direction as he tries to explain to her what she did wrong.

"Definitely not."

I turn toward Charlotte and wrap my arms around her waist. I start to lean down for a kiss, but of course we're interrupted.

"You two need to get a room. All of this PDA s.h.i.+t is disgusting."

Charlotte and I turn our heads as Ava walks up next to us, with Tyler right behind her.

"Oh, don't be jealous, sugar m.u.f.fin. Some day you'll be able to save up enough money and pay a guy off to love you that much," Tyler says with a smirk.

"Hey, Tyler, want to know what it feels like to have a stiletto shoved up your a.s.s?" Ava casually asks him while she examines her fingernails.

"You already had your finger in my a.s.s, so I'm a.s.suming it wouldn't be much different."

Ava continues to stare at the chipped polish on her thumbnail, but I can tell she's about ready to lose it. Her nostrils flare and she lets out a growl.

"Dude, you might want to start running now," I whisper to him.

Unfortunately for Tyler, Ava isn't about to make a scene in her parents' backyard by beating the s.h.i.+t out of him. She's going for complete and total mind f.u.c.k right now.

"Remember the last time you were in my car and you left that My Little Pony toy in the center console?" Charlotte asks him sweetly, finally looking up at him.

Tyler loses all of his smugness and his smile falters.

"You didn't," he whispers.

"Know what happens when you put My Little Pony in the microwave?" Ava asks.

Tyler's eyes widen and he clenches his fists at his sides. "No. Please, not Twilight Sparkle."

Ava takes a few steps in his direction until she's right up in his face. "She put up a good fight. She screamed until the bitter end."

Tyler grits his teeth and if I'm not mistaken, I think I see a few tears pooling in his eyes. He's quiet for so long that I wonder if maybe he's going to take the high road and just walk away. Too bad Ava sticks the knife in a little deeper by smiling brightly at him. That's all it takes to push Tyler over the edge.

"YOU CRAB INFESTED CROTCH ROT! I was lying about those jeans the other day. They TOTALLY make your a.s.s look fat!"

"YOU f.u.c.kER! Did you just call me a fat-a.s.s? YOU HAVE A SMALL p.e.n.i.s!" Ava yells.

"I don't have a small p.e.n.i.s. Your v.a.g.i.n.a is just bigger than the f.u.c.king Grand Canyon!"

"I HATE YOU!" Ava screams.

"I HATE YOU MORE!" Tyler adds.

They both stand nose-to-nose, chests heaving and staring angrily at one another. I start to pull away from Charlotte to break up the fight when Tyler suddenly speaks.

"You're so f.u.c.king hot. Your car or mine?"

"Mine. I parked closer."

Ava grabs Tyler's hand and drags him across the yard to the driveway.

"Those two are going to kill each other." Charlotte sighs with a shake of her head as we watch them hustle away.

"At least they're going to maim each other in her car. Tyler borrowed mine today, remember? I don't think I can get severed head stains out of the upholstery."

Now that we're alone again, I turn back toward Charlotte and pull her close. There's nothing better than being able to touch her and hold her whenever I want. Except for having s.e.x with her. Having s.e.x with her is definitely better.

Taking up where we left off before the tornado of Tyler and Ava came screaming through the yard, I lean my head down to Charlotte for a kiss. She quickly brings her hand up in front of my face to stop me.

"I know this whole thing is still kind of new with us, but I feel like I should tell you something really important. It might have a huge impact on our relations.h.i.+p," she tells me softly.

"As long as you don't tell me you have another fake, gay boyfriend somewhere, nothing else matters," I laugh.

"No. Rocco is the only fake, gay boyfriend I will ever have. You can count on that."

Charlotte takes a deep breath and spits it out. "The thing is, I never want to have children. I really like my v.a.g.i.n.a, and I'm pretty sure you do too. I have no desire to push a tiny little human out of it and destroy the poor thing forever."

I stare at her in silence for a few seconds before one corner of my mouth turns up in a grin.

f.u.c.k, do I love this girl.

"Good. Because I can't stand kids. And the thought of your v.a.g.i.n.a turning into something that looks like finely sliced roast beef is not appealing to me at all."

"Eeeew, that's disgusting," Charlotte replies, scrunching her nose up.

"Sorry, I heard my mom say that once and it's always stuck with me," I tell her.

Charlotte wraps her arms around my neck and stands up on her tiptoes. "Well, it's a good thing your mom never felt like that about kids or you wouldn't be here with me right now."

I hear someone clear her throat and turn to see my mom standing next to us with a sheepish look on her face. "Yeah, about that ..."

Turn the page for an exciting excerpt from Madeline Sheehan's novel (Undeniable #2) Danny & Ripper's Story!

(Undeniable #2) Danny & Ripper's Story by Madeline Sheehan Copyright 2013 by Madeline Sheehan "No sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy ..."

-William Shakespeare I don't believe in fate. I firmly believe that life is what you make of it, that life will react to your actions, and that your final destination has nothing to do with destiny but instead everything to do with the choices you make along the way.

With one exception.

Love.

There are no rules when it comes to love.

Love is not a reaction or an action; it is not a destiny or a choice.

Love is a feeling, a real, raw, and unscripted emotion so sensationally pure, unable to dull even under the strain of a world against it, strong enough to heal the broken and warm even the coldest of hearts.

Innate.

Unavoidable.

Undeniable.

And sometimes, love is unconventional and it breaks all the rules and blurs all the lines and basks in its glory, s.h.i.+ning as bright as the sun, unapologetically glowing even under the narrowed stares of society and its screaming, self-righteous morals, berating and judging that which it doesn't understand.

The first time I fell in love, it was with a pair of blue eyes and a wide, dimpled grin.

"Your old man loves ya, Danny girl," he whispered. "You never, ever forget that, yeah?"

I never did. And I never thought I could ever love any man as much as I loved my father. But as we grow, we change, we begin to make our own decisions and thus become independent and self-sufficient, and start turning away from our parents and turning to others. We begin experiencing life outside of the bubble we grew up in and form friends.h.i.+ps, strong bonds, and unbreakable ties.

And we fall in love ... a second time.

The second time I fell in love it was with a badly scarred face, the stuff of nightmares, the sort of disfigurement that mothers steer their children away from. Ugly, jagged slashes marred the skin from the top of his skull, down over his right eye, an eye that had been dug out of his face with a serrated blade. The scars continued across his cheek, over his lips, and down his neck, ending at the top of his shoulder. His chest was a hundred times worse, scar tissue as far as the eye could see.

"Baby," he said gruffly. "Man like me got no business with a girl like you. You're nothin' but f.u.c.kin' beauty and I'm a whole lot of f.u.c.kin' ugly who's already halfway to h.e.l.l."

But he was wrong.

Everything has beauty. Even the ugly. Especially the ugly.

Because without ugly, there would be no beauty.

Because without beauty, we would not survive our pain, our sorrow, and our suffering.

And in the world I lived in, the world he lived in, a secret world within the world, a world of constant crime and cruelty, a cold world full of despair and death, there was almost nothing but suffering.

"You may not be beautiful the way you were before," I whispered, cupping his ruined cheek. "But you're still beautiful. To me."

Ours was the furthest thing from a picture-perfect romance; it was more of a car crash, a metal-bending, blood-splattered disaster that left no survivors, only bad memories and heartache.

But it was ours.

And because it was ours ... I wouldn't change a thing.

Slipping on a pair of sungla.s.ses, I stepped out of the clubhouse into the bright midday Montana sun and surveyed the backyard where my family, both related by blood and not, were enjoying a Sat.u.r.day afternoon cookout. If the sun was s.h.i.+ning and the weather decent, this was how the Miles City, Montana, chapter of the h.e.l.l's Hors.e.m.e.n Motorcycle Club, or MC, unwound.

The voices of Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings, Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson were belting the lyrics of "Highwayman" through the speakers, the sizzling scents of cooking meat floated tantalizingly along the warm breeze, and children were running back and forth playing with inflatable beach b.a.l.l.s and water guns.

My father, Deuce, the Hors.e.m.e.n's president, stood off to the side of the party, drinking beer with his father-in-law, Damon "Preacher" Fox, president of the notorious Silver Demons Motorcycle Club run out of New York City. Across the yard, my stepmother Eva, her friends Kami and Dorothy, and a few bikers and their old ladies were deep in conversation.

I headed for my father.

"Hey, darlin'," he said, swinging a thick, heavy arm across my shoulders and pulling me into a hug, crus.h.i.+ng my face against his leather cut, the vest worn from age and use.