Page 49 of Whirlwind
“It’s my job to boost your ego. Top five rule in the BFF handbook,” she says, tossing a piece of pineapple at me. She misses, but Nightmare is there to nab it up the second it hits the floor. “Shit, can dogs eat pineapple?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. No avocado, though—which I found surprising, for some reason.”
“You hear that, Nightmare? No basic bitch avocado toast brunch for you.”
Nightmare whimpers, spins in a circle, then buries his face in his paws.
“Too bad. He’d make a good brunch partner for us. He’s so well-behaved in public.”
“You’ve taken him out to eat?” she asks.
“Tyson and I took him earlier for chicken and waffles at The Barking Dog. He didn’t bark or pull on the leash at all—even when other dogs paid him attention.”
After our playtime this morning, Tyson was hesitant to let me go about my day too quickly. I was fine, but he wanted to be sure. His overbearing side didn’t bother me, though. It was…cute. For now, anyway. I like being around him a lot. More than a lot. ButI’m used to being independent, and I don’t want to lose that—not even for orgasms.
“Your cheeks are red.”
“I was wondering when you were going to ask me about my night.”
“I didn’t ask anything,” she says with a smirk.
“You did—just not with words.”
“You’re killing me here! Obviously, it must have gone okay because you didn’t call me. But I’ve been here for”—she pauses to check the time on her phone—“exactly thirty-eight minutes, and this is the first time you’ve brought him up.”
“I wanted to make you squirm because I knew you wouldn’t ask.”
“Only because I want you to tell me things in your own time.”
“But it kills you when I don’t do it immediately,” I tease.
“Yes, you asshole,” she laughs.
“It was amazing,” I say.
“That’s it?” Willa asks with an exaggerated eye-roll.
“He understands me, Willa. He showed patience and compassion, but he didn’t coddle me.”
“Is he letting you set the pace?”
“Completely. Even this morning, when I wanted to touch him and we ended up masturbating together,” I say quickly, because even though she’s the person I’m closest to in the entire world, it’s not something I’m used to discussing.
“You did that?”
“I did. And then I cried, but it wasn’t a bad cry. It was…I don’t know, cathartic. And he held me through it.”
“Oh, Kit.” Her eyes go teary.
“I’m trying not to get too wrapped up in it all—or in him—while also trying to let myself live. You know?”
“You want to find yourself, not lose yourself.”
“Exactly,” I say. “There’s also the lingering voice telling me it’s not real, I’m not the kind of woman who can make him happy, it’s going to end in flames…blah, blah, blah.”
“That’s normal. Everyone’s insecure in their relationships—until they’re not. It takes time. It’s new for both of you,” she tells me.
I hope she’s right. Until I trust that, I’ll hold on to the idea that, for now, I’m enjoying my time with him. If it doesn’t work out, at least I’ll have that.
