"Thank you human." She nods.
I nod in return, not quite sure what to say. Still incredibly confused by the whole situation.
She looks down at my sweats again.
"That is where the human male appendage lies, am I correct?" She asks, head tilted, fing...
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I would have taken her to the hospital, but it's over 45 minutes away and father dearest took the car with him on his last disappearing stint. I couldn't imagine the looks I would get taking her on the bus, nor the struggle it would be to carry her on my bike.
Luckily, my place is close to the beach and I hadn't ventured far on my impromptu rage walk. If you could call my actions rage. Sure, the anger was festering, but my actions were ridiculously clumsy.
I can still taste the sand in my mouth.
I look down at the woman in my arms.
She's incredibly light, almost like her bones were built different, but I attribute it to her stature and think nothing of it.
Not that I've ever carried a pretty girl in my arms before.
My cheeks heat at her naked state and I keep walking, nearing my front porch. I struggle to reach for my keys, before deciding to try switching her into my one arm, cradling her to my chest.
Jesus christ, are her bones hallow? Have they been removed and replaced with magnesium?She weighs next to nothing. My brows furrow in confusion and I look down at her face.
I had been avoiding looking at her due to her...um...well, nakedness. But I'm taken aback once again by her sheer beauty. There's the tiny dimple on her small chin. Her lips are plump and pillowy. Her hair falls around her face and curls and coils in loose waves, the way it moves in the breeze reminds me of the ocean. There's a soft glow to her skin, an almost unnatural shimmer.
She looks...ethereal.
I shake my head from the direction my thoughts are going.
Am I really objectifying a woman I found naked and unconscious on the beach?
What happened to her?
I return my focus to getting the keys from my left pocket. I juggle her while sliding the key into the door and opening it to reveal the glory that is my fucking dwelling.
Beer bottles litter the floor, bottles of bourbon tipped over on the table, the sticky substance coating the surface, while empty bottles of whiskey are scattered in the oddest places.
Oh father, you sweet, fuckface ass clown. How kind of you to leave this mess for me to clean up. I truly appreciate it.
I puff out a breath of air, so strong that it flutters my hair.
To be fair, he left this mess a few days ago.
I just haven't gotten around to cleaning it up. I mean, I don't have a life so I wasn't technically busy, I just had better things to do.
Like procrastinating on the essay due next week by reading and playing video games and masturbating–
I probably shouldn't think of masturbating while there is a woman in crisis cradled in my arms. A woman lightyears out of my league.
