James

Many people know I have a very good friend named James. (Darren's brother. I used to date James and that is how Darren and I became such good friends. It is also a large part of why things never go too far with Darren and me.)

This James is a little different, however.

James is a young African American boy, also going through chemo, also on steriods. He is so dang cute, you just want to put him in your pocket and take him home. He was a dancing fool, doing the worm and busting moves left and right and disco bowling. He was little-boy-flirting with me at disco bowling. Chasing me and annoying me (although I thought he was precious and was not the least bit annoyed by him).

The day we went snowmobiling, it was miserably cold. He was being kind, though, and was holding the door for us as we came back to the hotel.

I thanked James and told him what a little gentleman he was.

Then he slapped my ass twice, told me no problem, and ran and hid behind his counselor.

Is it wrong I still think he is precious?