She’s no prize

My bed is cozy and warm and soft and wonderful and I don’t know why someone would interrupt this by ringing my doorbell most rudely at six-oh-something in the morning. I pull out my phone to check the doorbell camera and see her car parked on my driveway, see her standing on my porch anxiously …

Danielle

“Danielle?!” Her name bursts from me like an expletive. I spring up and clumsily cower behind the couch, as if the low blue cushions will save me from her. “What’re you doing here?” She’s standing in the doorway of the apartment, framed by the mid-day sun behind her, purse in one hand and reusable shopping …

Abby

“Richard.” And this time’s its an admonishment, the tone she takes when she has to explain common sense to me. “First off, stop apologizing. It’s just a boner. Second, isn’t that girl you like, Leanne, going to be there tonight? How’s it going to look to her if you get so embarrassed when she grinds her cute little butt up against you?” She giggles. “It’s just a penis, it points out what it likes.”