“And then he laughed. It was short and brief, but genuine and made the dimples stand out on his scruffy cheeks. It was the best sound I’d heard all year.”

“Why are you so pissed off?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. Sometimes I wondered if Dex actually had any recollection of 90% of the conversations he was involved with.”

“He glanced beside him then patted at his round shoulders. “Want to come up here?” “What, on your shoulders?” He grinned and shrugged. “Yeah, why not? Everyone else is doing it.” The idea of a 5’9” girl sitting on a 6’4” guy made me want to laugh. We’d be the brontosaurus of the festival. The acid trippers would see us and freak the hell out.”

“I couldn’t even masturbate without fearing I’d cry out his name and scare the damn dog.”

“You know,” he began, voice low and full, “if you were to ever leave me, I’d come looking for you, on every street.” “You promise?” “Always.” And I knew he kept his promises.”

“Hell, if a neighbour were to stick their head out their window and see a tattooed god ramming a chick in the neighbour’s backyard all lit by romantic lights, they’d probably watch. I’d watch too.”

“If he truly wanted me to let everything go, I’d flip over and ride him right there on the range. Screw golf, I’d screw him instead.”