Quirks & Kinks Read Free Page B

sprayed shrapnel, the sharp edges of his scrutiny digging into the flesh of my muscle and making it twitch just beneath the not-protective-enough layer of my skin. So much sensation at once made my eyes jump back and forth, struggling to compensate for the sensory overload.
    I didn’t like being judged. I mean, the actual process of it. Not just the result of someone’s perusal, but the examination itself. This guy was reading me, studying the order and punctuation of my paragraph and piecing it together to understand my story. It felt invasive. Personal. Nearly intimate.
    I knew it was a necessary part of life, and unfortunately, with acting, it came as a pretty regular part of the job. But for the most part, when it came to my professional life, people did it behind my back. Some might call it underhanded. I just called it preferred.
    “Anderson,” he said, offering his hand to Ashley first.
    “That’s your first name?” I asked, interjecting myself back into the conversation just in time to sound like an asshole. Obviously, it was.
    Jesus.
    I was on a goddamn roll tonight. Next I’d be implying that he walked and talked wrong. Or maybe, if I really got out of control, that his penis somehow didn’t measure up to societal standards. I didn’t know how I’d make the geographical leap from simple insults to belittling the most essential part of the male form, but if anyone could do it, it’d be me.
    Plus, I had absolutely no room for making fun of someone’s name.
    My parents had named me Easie. Seriously, Easie—said just like ‘easy.’ And no, it wasn’t a cute nickname for something far more elegant and sophisticated.
    I can’t even count the number of times I heard my parents tell the story of my name. How they knew their first child wouldn’t be easy. That even though everyone thought they were young and naive, they knew I would be the biggest challenge of their lives. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t try to sway the odds in their favor with my name.
    It was a pretty annoying name to be saddled with as a kid, but even I had to admit it was clever for a couple of sixteen year olds.
    “Well, I’m not Bond. I don’t make a habit of introducing myself with just a last name.”
    “Ashley,” my sister introduced herself, ignoring my stupid comment. “And this is Easie,” she explained, pointing to me.
    His eyes lit up like fireworks, sparkling and splaying with mischief and mirth in a riotous explosion of green that sucked at my attention just like an unexpected explosion in the dark, night sky would have.
    Fuuuck.
    I needed a cigarette. Stat.
    Ignoring his imploringly naughty green eyes and Ashley’s smug yet innocent smirk, I pulled the strap of my bag off the back of my chair and rummaged through the contents of my purse recklessly. I knew that being a disorganized mess would come back to bite me at some point, but I never would have guessed it would be in a moment like this.
    Thin, sturdy cardboard met the tips of my fingers surprisingly quickly, but the churning whoosh of my panicked blood made it feel like a lifetime.
    By some mini miracle, my hand emerged uninhibited, though the thrill of victory didn’t last long.
    “You can’t smoke in here,” Anderson informed me swiftly, his words completely devoid of flirtation. He didn’t mean it as a suggestion.
    Fucking fuuuuck.
    Were there no lung-destroying people like me left in this world?! I missed the days when you could actually light up indoors.
    “Alright,” I agreed in the name of expediency, hopping down off of my stool height chair. “I’ll just pop outside real quick.”
    “Or you could stop smoking,” Anderson suggested, cocking a brow with interest he had no right or reason to have.
    Who the fuck did this guy think he was?
    Hackles fully risen, I snapped back, “Right. I’ll just go outside,” moving to skirt my way around his imposing posture.
    His eyes lingered on my face, scanning the line of my mouth and trailing