Page 107 of The Pucking Arrangement

Heat floods low in my belly. There’s a promise in those words. A plan.

[Dmitri]: Have to go

[Dmitri]: Team meeting

[Dmitri]: But Erin?

[Me]: Yes?

[Dmitri]: Think of me when you’re playing

A shiver skates down my spine as I trace my fingers over the black dress, imagining his reaction when he sees me in it. Imagining his hands sliding over the fabric, his mouth following, finding all those strategic cutouts.

After he leaves, I turn back to practice for my graduation recital. But Shostakovich is not cooperating today. The notes keep slipping away, my focus shot to hell. Every time I try to lose myself in the music, my mind betrays me, dragging me back to Dmitri’s bed, to his breath skimming my neck, to the way his hands hold me while he thrusts into me. The way his voice goes thick when he asks me to spread my legs for him. The way I fall apart from his gaze alone.

My phone buzzes, saving me from another losing battle with this cursed passage.

[Sophie]: Incoming! Jenna needs emergency bestie time

[Sophie]: We’ve got your London Fog and a salad

[Me]: You’re a goddess

[Me]: Also, caffeine. More. Now

[Sophie]: Meet us by the pool? It’s gorgeous out

She’s not wrong. The early May sun streams through the windows, the pool practically winking at me. Dmitri had it serviced last week, muttering something about Ris’s swimming lessons.

Thoughtful bastard.

I swap leggings for a sundress—light, flowy, something that makes me feel like I have my life together. By the time Sophie and Jenna arrive, bearing sustenance, I amreadyto not think about Dmitri for at least an hour.

Or so I tell myself.

“Okay, spill.” Sophie doesn’t waste time as we settle by the pool. “How’s living with Dmitri?”

Heat crawls up my neck. “Fine. Normal. He’s not as scary as I thought.”

Jenna snorts. “Right. And Mark didn’t just dump me because Stanford is ‘too far’ from Cornell.”

“What?” I sit up. “That absolute?—”

“It’s fine,” she cuts in, but her voice wobbles. “I mean, he’s not wrong. Long distanceishard.”

“Still,” Sophie frowns, “after three years?”

I grab the escape hatch. “Speaking of distance—Jessica? How’s the away trip? Did she say anything?”

“She’s thriving,” Sophie drawls. “But she’s not liking Tampa too much.”

I absolutely donotreact to the mention of Tampa. Except I do.

“At least she gets to travel,” Jenna mutters, poking at her salad. “Meanwhile, I’m stuck here overthinking everything with Mark.”

“He’s an idiot,” Sophie declares.

“Yep. If there ever was one,” Jenna sighs, then turns to me with laser-sharp focus. “How’s it going with you and Dmitri? A little birdie says there have been...developments?”

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