Apocalypsis 02 - Warpaint

just to argue with me.”
    “And he’s hot, funny, and in love with you, too. Don’t forget those things.”
    My face went red. “I’m not sure about that last part, but I agree with the other stuff.”
    “So let’s just give him some space and wait and see what happens. He’s a good person, and I really do think he likes you a lot. I’m sure things will work out one way or another.”
    “Maybe he used to like me, but I doubt he does anymore, now that I’ve insulted his bird fetish.”
    Peter smiled. “He’s not going to stop liking you over one little argument. I don’t think he’s the type to just fall for someone and then hate them the next day. We don’t live in that kind of world anymore, anyway.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Well, when there were thousands of possible mates to choose from, it was like being a huge candy store with a billion types of sugary things to choose from. You could sample one of everything and not worry about whether you’d like it much or whatever, because there was always another jar of candy nearby. But now, there’s no candy store. There’s a single jawbreaker that you found in the gutter. And there are no more jawbreaker factories. No more candy stores. No more refined sugar. That one jawbreaker you found could be the only one you’ll ever have again. You aren’t going to just eat it and say goodbye.”
    His analogy wasn’t perfect but I saw where he was going with it. “So I’m like a jawbreaker. A dirty one you find in the gutter.”
    “Yeah. And he likes that candy. It’s his favorite. So he doesn’t care that it has smelly feet.”
    I scowled at him. “How do you know he likes jawbreakers so much?”
    “I just know. I can tell a good match when I see one. He needs someone spunky and tough, someone different than other girls. That’s you.”
    I smiled, liking how Peter had described me. “But what if he just decides to eat it real quick and then move on? I mean, there are other jawbreakers out there. They’re just more rare.”
    “That’s not how he is. He’s methodical. A thinking person. He’s not rash. And he knows his odds of finding a jawbreaker of this flavor? Are pretty slim.”
    “I’ve seen him do some stupid, rash things … like going after the candy at the Cracker Barrel.”
    “That was all a very carefully-crafted way of making sure he had a good grip on his jawbreaker. He wants to keep the candy happy. Keep it sweet.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Ugh. Your analogy is making me want to eye gouge you right now.”
    He held up his fingers, turning them like he was adjusting dials on a stereo. “Just remember: titty twisting champion, eight years running.”
    I resisted the urge to cover my boobs and was rescued from having to come up with a suitable retort by Paci joining us.
    “Hey, hot stuff and her very small friends. Are you ready to go?”
    Buster went bananas, running over to Paci and jumping up on his legs, begging for attention. Paci didn’t disappoint him, either. He bent down and baby-talked with Buster, like he was an old hand at it.
    I smiled in amusement. Paci was no wimp. He was almost as big as Bodo and ripped to the max. He had zero body fat, so Peter and I were able to admire his every muscle, which I noticed Peter was doing with unabashed curiosity. I caught his attention and raised my eyebrows at him in a conspiratorial message of mutual admiration. He smiled in return, giving me a pitiful wink that made him look like he had something stuck in both eyes. It made me laugh.
    Paci looked up at me. “Something strike you as funny?”
    “Yeah. You baby-talking to a nude poodle.”
    Paci turned his attention back to the dog. “I had a dog but she died a few years back. I miss her.”
    I saw him swallow hard and wondered how many family members he’d lost. Most of us didn’t talk about it. It was too depressing, and life was already pretty crappy most of the time. I guess it had turned into some kind of unspoken rule to keep your family miseries to yourself. Peter was the exception since it hadn’t been the virus that had taken his sister.
    “Time for the meeting,” said Paci, standing up straighter. “Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked, looking at me.
    “He’s not my boyfriend, and I have no idea where he is. He took off on a walk or something.”
    Paci’s eyebrows raised. “He’s not your boyfriend?”
    “No. Why?” I’m not sure why I asked. It was kind of a loaded question, and I tried to avoid