Page 58 of Meet Hate Love
And no. I will not be late. I’m already walking toward the train station.
Not only was Blake aware of what time we were supposed to be there, but she, the woman who was perpetually late, had left three hours early?Yeah,she was absolutely avoiding me. And I was going to call her on it.
You’re avoiding me…
No, I’m actually punctual to things that matter. Like flights.
Bullshit.
Who was on the flight to Paris first? And who’s going to be first on the flight to Rome?
Like it was a competition. Of course, maybe it was to the girl who had raced me up the stairs.
You infuriate me.
I give that word 3.5 stars out of 5. I would have gone with exasperate.
I chucked my phone to the bed and stood up. Exasperate wasn’t any better of a word than infuriate. Fuck my life. She was rubbing off on me.
Halfway across the room, I noticed Blake’s passport on the floor and picked it up. If I’d wanted to be nice, I could have texted Blake and told her, and maybe I would have had she not been so cocky about getting to the airport before me. Instead, I flipped to the identification page.
Blake Leigh Brentley.
Her name rhymed? Who in the hell would give their kid a name that rhymed? The same person who would rank her kids with a magnet board.
Shaking my head, I dropped her passport on the dresser beside mine, then went to the bathroom and turned on the water. As steam built behind the glass shower wall, I imagined Blake standing in the security line, frantically digging through her disorganized purse, then her carry-on. Gum wrappers and receipts would be scattered everywhere. Usually, just the thought of that much disorganization would make my skin crawl, but I couldn’t help but think of her and the chaos that surrounded her with fondness. I found her ridiculous obsession with words and the way her nose crinkled when she laughed annoyingly charming. I’d even developed a fondness for her bouts of word vomit, even though they typically ended in complete disaster. And after last night, I could say I really enjoyed those little breathy moans she made right before she came.
My dick swelled at the thought of those sounds, of the way her hips bucked as she chased her release.
I got undressed and stepped underneath the hot stream, fisting my cock as I imagined what it would have felt like to have buried myself balls-deep in her last night. How her pussy would have gripped me like a vise when she came.
My free hand landed on the tile, steadying me as I pumped myself with determined strokes. A few more jerks to the thought of her warm pussy wrapped around me and my balls tightened. Heat spread over me like an inferno.
I dropped my head to the cool shower wall on a grunt as a ribbon of come hit the tile. “Fuck,” I groaned at the same time that the bathroom door flung open, interrupting my orgasm.
“Oh, my God!” Blake’s gaze landed on my dick right as the last dribble of come trickled from its tip. The trajectory of her widened eyes shot to my face before she slapped a hand over them. “Were you jerking off?” Said like it was a capital offense.
“You said you were on your way to the train station!”
“What does that have to do with you jerking off?” She turned around, eyes still closed as she blindly felt around for the sink.
“Everything! Because you weren’t supposed to be here.” Hot water pummeled my skin while I kept hold of my deflating dick. I’d debated tacking on the defense that she’d gotten off last night while I’d basically been assaulted.
“I forgot my passport,” she said.
“And a forgotten passport is why you barged into the bathroom?”
“No.” She knocked the soap dispenser over before she found the taps, cut on the water, then frantically splashed it over her face. “I was coming back to look for it. A bird shit on my head right outside of the hotel. Crap oozed down my face.” Gagging, she pumped an unnecessary amount of soap into her hand, then scrubbed her cheeks. “That’s why I barged in here. To wash warm crap off my face.”
I tilted my head back underneath the water, stifling a laugh. “A bird shit on you?”
“I told you I’m a magnet for them. It’s like there’s a bullseye painted on the top of my head that’s only visible to those sky rats.”
That was the first time I’d ever heard someone refer to pigeons as sky rats, and I kind of liked the creativity of it. Chuckling to myself, I grabbed the soap and lathered up.
“The way today is going, I wouldn’t be surprised if my passport fell out last night when I—” she splashed more water on her face—“tried to escape.” At least she’d admitted it.
“Your passport was on the floor.” I turned to rinse the suds off my chest. “I found it after our text exchange and put it on the dresser.”
