Bad Things (Eddie Munson Short Story)

My Girl 🌶️

****And I love the way your breath
numbs me like Novocaine.****

Sal had said to call him if you needed anything when he dropped you off at Chloe's beach house. You had thanked him and promised you'd call him soon.

The first thing you did was shower. Letting the water mix with your tears. This day has been shit.

You changed into your favorite silk pajama set and lit a joint as you climbed into the big bed. You hadn't touched your phone.

It would be more of the same shit. Things you didn't want to think about. Things you were hoping this weed would help you forget. Or at least maybe it would help it not seem so important.

You did however see that Sal had slipped Eddie's magazine in your bag. You inhale the last bit of your weed, the tiny roach burning your fingertips just a bit as you close your eyes.

You feel a bit of calmness wash over you. A slight improvement over the chaos, as the bad thoughts are pushed back into a corner of your brain. Still there but slowly moving farther and farther away.

You snub it out on the nightstand and reach over into your bag grabbing the Playgirl and propping your knees up, laying the magazine against them.

The cover alone has you tingling. That along with whatever Chloe had given you. This shit was strong.

You flip open the page and see a face photo.

His smile bright against the black backdrop. His long curls are pulled back into a low bun, a few strands loosely falling around his face. An undone tie hangs around his neck and his shirt is unbuttoned just enough for a tease.

His brown eyes are deep and velvety, making you feel as though you could melt into them. Small wrinkles form just beneath his eyes as he smiles. And those fucking dimples.

You turn the page to see a montage of photos of him sitting on a chair.

Knees spread, leaning back with a cocky smile. The black tie remains tossed around his neck but that's the only article of clothing he has on. His hair is down now, his untamable curls matching his wild personality to a T.

His guitar that's propped between his legs is the only thing covering his private area.

His ringed fingers grip the guitar as he grins. In one of the photos his long tongue licks along the neck of the guitar. The sight making your heart speed up in your chest. The guitar is moved to a few different positions as he poses for the shoot. Every one of them making you crave more.

There's a naked model on his lap at the bottom of the page, Eddie's hands covering hers as he shows her where to place her fingers on the strings.

Bitch.

You think you hear a faint knocking but your head is feeling a bit fuzzy from the drugs.

You keep eyeing the pages. Every photo is a perfect distraction from the mess around you. You can feel yourself getting wetter as you take in every detail of his body.

Fuck, I miss him. I want him. I wonder how pissed he is about his apartment...

You hear the knock louder this time. "Nova?" you hear Eddie's deep voice. Is this real?

You lay the magazine to the side and slip out of bed, slowly making your way to the front door. You look through the peephole and see Eddie standing there.

How is he here?

You unlock the door and swing it open, immediately throwing your arms around him. You feel his arms pull you in tight as you bury your face in his chest.