Page 57 of Wanting the Winger

“You are one classy broad.”Dex puts his cheek up against hers.

Of course I choose a Pop-Tart.And after we finish eating, a DJ comes out to start the music.He’s a tall, fit Black man with a great smile.

“Hey, y’all, I’m DJ BJ and I’m ready to get this party started,” he says, doing a raise-the-roof motion.

“DJ BJ,” Dex says, a brow arched.“Sounds promising.”

The first song is “Alone” by Heart, and Bash immediately pulls me close for a slow dance.He sings along so softly only I can hear him.My stomach is rolling, but I ignore it.I’m only open to happy vibes right now.Or horny, but that’s under the happy umbrella.

It takes three songs for me to realize every song at this prom is from the ’80s.Bash knows I love ’80s songs.That man is so getting laid tonight, possibly even in the limo on the way home if we drop everyone else off first.

My feet ache from all the dancing by the time we all leave several hours later.

“This was the best evening I’ve ever had,” I whisper in Bash’s ear.“Thank you.”

He gives me a soft, sweet kiss.“Same here.”

The limo has just pulled away from the curb, heading for Harry’s house, when a shot of pain hits me in the stomach.

No.This can’t be happening.I’ve made it through this entire evening without tripping or nerding out about science.I have to make it back to Bash’s.

The next cramp is like a bolt of lightning to my midsection.I cringe.

“You okay?”Bash asks, concerned.

Fucking irritable bowel syndrome.I did everything right tonight.I only drank water and ate chicken and noncruciferous vegetables.It has to be my nerves.

“I need a bathroom,” I say, already mortified.

“Okay, we’ll stop.”He pushes a button to talk to the driver.“Hey, we need to stop at the nearest place with a bathroom, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

My cramps worsen.I clench my ass cheeks together, wishing I could tell Bash to just leave me here.He wouldn’t, though.

It’s happening.I’m going to shit.The only question is, will I make it to a bathroom in time?

“Sorry, guys,” I mumble.

“Don’t worry about it,” Suki says.“There’s a gas station in the next block, I’m sure he’ll stop there.”

“Nice,” Mara says.“I can get a KitKat.”

“I could go for some Takis,” Aden says.

“Ooh, I love me some Takis,” Mara says.

I’m clenching with everything I’ve got.Bash is gently rubbing my neck, his hand beneath my hair.Tonightcan’tend with me shitting in the limo.It just cannot.

The limo slows and I intensify my clenching.I can’t physically hold in the diarrhea, but if I have to, I will die trying.

We’re turning.I see the glowing sign of a gas station.Bash pushes the button again.

“Take us right up to the front door,” he says.

My desperation must be so obvious.If I don’t make it, this will be the least of my humiliation.

As soon as the car stops, I open the door and fly out of it.I race to the front door and whip it open, picking up the skirt of my dress so I can run faster.

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