Fugly by K Z Snow Page B

and Fallon to talk about it. I’d like to hear what’s been going on with them before I toss any ideas out.” David, who’d already disposed of the condom, turned to leave the room. “Hurry up, okay? I need to clean up too.”
    “David?”
    He stopped just outside the door. “Hm?”
    Jake’s mouth moved into a half-smile. “Thank you.”
    Neither of them had yet put their pants back on, and Jake suddenly realized how strong David’s legs looked—he bicycled a lot—and how delicious they felt clenched around his body, their perfect dusting of dark hair both soft and coarse against his skin.
    “My pleasure,” David whispered, returning his smile.

Chapter Four
    Almost five weeks and counting.
    None of us had spotted the tall man or his beautiful alleged spouse since the night of the ass clutch, so I’d done some asking around. The couple had been seen before but not with any regularity. Either they preferred keeping to themselves, or they were occasional visitors to rather than residents of the city. I’d come up empty-handed.
    This would be the first time I’d been out with Jake, Fallon, and Todd since the Great Dermatological Outbreak.
    I still kept wondering if I’d really seen the phenomenon I thought I’d seen in Jake’s office, and what it could possibly mean.
    That’s what threw my curse theory from the realm of joking into the realm of speculation—seeing how Jake’s appearance had altered after we’d had sex, or maybe while we were having sex. I realized it was his wanting me, and not just casually, not with his usual take-it-or-leave-it insouciance, that had given me a glimpse of what other men must’ve been seeing.
    Now, as we approached a cozy, dimly lit bar and restaurant called Wassail, he stopped me just outside the door.
    “David, do you still want to be near me? Would you still kiss me?”
    I’d never seen Jake Pelletier so shorn of confidence. It twisted me up inside, regardless of having been taken for granted by him, treated as an occasional, convenient plaything. I could only imagine what he must’ve been thinking: that whatever illusion or delusion had beset him was gradually spreading to the people with whom he came into contact. I hated seeing him suffer.
    I met his gaze directly, and I answered without a shred of doubt or hesitation. “Yes.”
    To prove it, I kissed him. Hell, I loved kissing him.
    His lips trembled faintly beneath mine. It was understandable he wouldn’t be fully engaged, but I had to prove how much I still wanted him. So I made sure the kiss conveyed at least some of the passion I felt.
    He was the same Jake to me, the same funny, smart, sometimes caring, always maddening agent- cum -lay I’d fallen in love with, much to my chagrin, sometime after our first year together as author and representative. He didn’t have a clue how I felt about him, but he’d get that clue when he read the story I’d just turned in.
    He laughed nervously as we eased apart. “At least I won’t die from blue balls with you around.”
    My smile was weak. Jake’s response was hardly a declaration of undying devotion.
    But I loved him nonetheless.
    More than ever, I was determined to come up with some explanation for the mysterious rash. Didn’t matter how loopy it sounded, as long as it had some internal logic. These guys were desperate, and I’d foolishly popped off with that curse remark before I realized just how desperate. So I found myself inching into some mighty strange territory, a world of supernatural cause and effect none of us had ever thought about before, much less taken seriously. And who was to say that world didn’t exist?
    Todd and Fallon were already tucked into one of the partitioned booths when Jake and I walked in. I didn’t see a damned thing wrong with either one of them, which only strengthened my rapidly developing theory.
    We ordered another pitcher of margaritas and a sampler platter of finger food we could pick at as the mood struck us.