The Last Virgin Standing

Chapter 19: Puns

He flashed his straight, pearly teeth. No doubt that he had braces, or some other form of dental work done. There was no way that a normal person's teeth were that good. "I do have good insurance. In fact, I have amazing insurance."

"It's sad when you have brag about how awesome your insurance is," I said in a low voice, shaking my head in mock disappointment.

"I don't have to. I just choose to. Oh, and heads up, the date's in like two hours."

"I have two hours to get ready!?" I asked, my voice getting louder.

"Would you relax? It'll take you like twenty minutes to get dressed. After that we can go get lunch."

It was Sunday, and Ian randomly decided to show up, assuming that I didn't have any plans. I didn't, but it still would've been nice to have some notice. I let Dad answer the door, much to his protests. As revenge, he let Ian in, pointing him to my exact location: sitting on a stool in the kitchen.

I just wish I would've worn something nicer to bed last night. Not like silk pajamas or anything fancy like that (heaven forbid a negligee), but something more presentable than my stain-filled t-shirt. And the worst part was that the original coloring's stark white, so all the stains stuck out like a sore thumb that's been slammed in a door several times then poked repeatedly with a sharp toothpick.

I'm sure Ian noticed it, but he didn't show a glimpse of what he was thinking. Other than the fact that he wanted to get in my pants, which were also filled with stains, but not as much, because that was a given.

"But I just had breakfast!"

"I like my women curvy. So hop on it, kitten!"

"Kittens don't hop, Ian."

"Sure they do!"

"I'm done with this conversation. I'll be right back," I said, abandoning my barely-untouched cereal bowl and running upstairs.

I didn't realize that people still went out on water in November, but I guess you can do whatever you want if you're rich.

After brushing the gnarls out of my curly, brown hair, I pulled it back into a simple ponytail with a navy blue scrunchie. I kind of just threw my outfit together, feeling too lazy to actually try and look good. Although in my lethargic state, I'd say I did a pretty decent job picking clothes that actually matched; a pair of jeans, a fitted, white tee, and a dark blue scarf. I wore a bikini, but not scantily clad, underneath.

Knowing Ian, he would trick me into going swimming in the cold water. Okay, not trick, but more like challenging my pride and ego. It was basically the same thing.

***

I've never actually seen a yacht before. I always associated yachts with snobby, rich people and the color yellow. The only reason I did was because I read The Yellow Yacht back in the fourth grade.

But here was the Jameson's yacht, their white yacht, floating gloriously before me. My first reaction to it was to just stand there, holding Ian's hand, and gape. He seemed used to people's reactions to his fine things, so he stood their quietly, looking at me amusedly.

"It looks like a smooshed cake," I mused.

He raised an eyebrow. "A smooshed cake?"

I nodded. "It has levels, like tiers on a cake. But the boat is long. Cake's aren't usually long."

He chortled. "You have such an odd way of thinking, kitten. So, you ready to get onboard the SS Ian?"

"SS Ian? Isn't this your parent's boat?"