“Tell me,” my husband demanded. His eyebrows pulled towards his hairline, no longer accepting silence as a response.
“Fine!” I ran my hands over my face, wondering how we got into this fight anyway. We were supposed to be having a picnic, a nice date in the park without the kids and now, this. “Him, by the fountain.”
My husband’s head swiveled towards the center of the park, where chess tables circled the fountain and people dipped their feet into the water to cool themselves from the sweltering day.
“The douche with the tattoos?”
I shrugged. “I think he looks hot.”
“So you’re telling me, out of all the people in this park, if you could fuck any of them, it’d be him?”
For some reason I felt like I was walking into a trap. “I mean, after you, of course.”
My husband snorted. “Ya, you say as an afterthought.”
“Oh come on! You can’t force it out of me and then put a pout on your face.”
“I can do whatever I want.”
The tattooed man must have noticed our glances, in that way people can feel sometimes and know someone was watching him. His eyes flickered up from the book and found mine. He smiled warmly. I smiled back.
“Oh, come on!” My husband groaned.
“What! I’m just smiling.”
My husband laid back on our sheet, looking at the sky. “You could probably have him, you know? With your fit body and killer rack.”
It was my turn to snort. “Thanks.”
I didn’t want to play this game, it was his idea anyway but now he looked so peeved, with his tight lip smile and arm covering his eyes that I had to ask, “So, who would you fuck if you could?”
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Truth or Dare.”