Page 103 of Love Her

I reminded Lia. I figured she was already at her place.

Guilty.

she texted back, and I laughed.

Seriously.

Just a carry-on.

Camera? Lemme see you.

She turned it on and waved. Behind her, her bed had several pieces of luggage on it, in different stages of being packed. She was wearing stretchy exercise-y things, and her hair was loose around her shoulders, flowing behind her as she ran up to kiss the camera.

Sorry I didn’t get to see the show tonight.

That’s okay—I’m still not wearing any.

she said, before stepping back and gesturing to her hips, where the fabric that clung to her wasn’t broken up by any hint of a garment underneath.

You sure? We’re going to be traveling for at least twelve hours, little girl.

Yes—and I’ve never been fucked on a plane before.

she texted, before running an explanatory hand over her entire body, like she was presenting herself as a game show prize.

I’m going for MAXIMAL availability.

I laughed in the back seat of the car.

I can’t argue with that.

I thought not.

she texted—then returned to packing, now trying to condense everything that’d been in four bags somehow, magically, into one.

The driver let me off in front of my apartment, and I went up, waiting until I got into my place to call her, and put her on speakerphone, so I could see her while we talked.

She picked up on the first ring. “Two bags?”

I laughed. “One. Just one. We’ll need to be nimble, as we get lost. So make sure that you do pack some underwear.”

“And how about you, hmmm? How are you going to get your life down to just one suit?”

I made my way over to the coat closet that my luggage lived in the bottom of and pulled out my carry-on. “If this works out right, I’m never going to wear one again.”

I heard her give a slight gasp on the far end of the line.

“Don’t tell me you were in love with the suit and not me.”

“No—it’s just—that makes it feel so official.”

“Because it is.” What I was planning was totally dropping off the face of the earth, and out of society. “You gonna miss your car?”

“No,” she said, and laughed. “You’re worth more than a lambo to me.”

“Normal lambo, or one you’ve heavily depreciated by painting it pink?” I teased, and she snickered.

“Are you going to miss Gracie?”

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