Stone Hearts

Part 11

"It's always the D's fault. Always," Jack sighed.

Jack and I were sitting in the elegant Victorian style research centre, quietly sipping tea while having a not-so-appropriate conversation. This is another boring afternoon struggling to be productive in Dr Richard's office.

"How?" I asked while swiveling on the chair, legs dangling in the air.

"You know what? I met a guy who has the whole package. Gorgeous chocolate eyes, hot bod, big ass..."

"Yeah?"

"But he's cringy af. Complete moron. I bet he can't even spell apple."

"No way..." I chuckled.

"Yeah. He used all these cringy pick up lines, touched his hair every 5 minutes... He still acts like he's 12."

"I know plenty of these guys. Hot or not hot. Such a waste for a pretty face."

"We hooked up that night, but I thought it was only a one time thing. I was like, no I'm not associating with this kind of cringe fuckboys. Two days later, I woke up in some cheap ass hotel with him lying naked on the floor. It's the big dick's fault."

"Ahaha..." I laughed out loud, "I know right? It's always the D that makes you coming back for more."

"You know a lot about that, huh? Give some me juicy details, girl. Any big dick encounters?"

"I'm usually kinda drunk... but I've seen one though. It's as huge as my forearm, I bolted right after that," Jack and I died laughing.

"Speaking of which, what do you think of Gavin?" Jack asked with a sly grin.

"Wha...what? What do you mean?" I laughed evasively.

"Come on, he's hot and not a complete moron. You must have at least thought about it. Gosh, I really want to touch his abs, if he let me."

"Yeah, I mean, he's not too bad on the eye but it doesn't mean that I want to do anything with him?"

"Come on, don't tell me you've never imagined his hands sliding under your shirt or him pulling down your panties with his teeth."

Shit, I've got goosebumps just by thinking of this. Just the thought of it is horrifying. I shook off these unlawful thoughts immediately. "You know what? Meeting hot guys you have no chance with is like buying furniture. Like you go into a furniture store with thirty bucks and saw a beautiful, huge Victorian dining table. But you know your broke ass can't afford it and it won't fit in your small apartment. It won't even fit with the whole theme of your apartment, so in the end you went home and got a cheap table off Amazon."

"That's the worst metaphor I've ever heard," giggled Jack.

"Yeah, but you get the idea. Or put it like this, maybe the picture of the product in Amazon isn't actually the product you receive."

"Okay, this metaphor is totally off."

"I'm just saying that we're impossible. He's good-looking... but not what I'm looking for...?"

Just as we were laughing, Gavin sat down in the room with a huff. Shit, I hope we weren't too loud.

Jack have me a furtive glance and a wink. "Hey, Gav," started Jack. Damn, he's up to something. "Any thoughts on precious little Olivia over here?"

Damn. I mentally brace myself for embarrassment. Yet, am I a little bit agog to hear his answer?

"You mean the annoying little brat here?" Gavin said, looking at me.