Page 3 of Deception & Daylight
“Not to mention the glaring daddy issues,” Paige adds with a teasing lilt that drags it out like a song.
I point a finger gun and make a clicking sound. “That too.”
“So when isAuntieMags coming for a visit?” Before I can answer, Eric, my new roommate, walks past the living room heading towards the kitchen, and the sound of a cupboard slamming shut echoes through the open plan living space. He’s in his usual uniform of athletic shorts and a worn t-shirt. His wavy black hair is pulled back into a man bun, and his beard is slightly more grown out than I’m used to. He’s objectively good-looking in a careless way that reflects his inherently casual demeanor.
“Wait. Is that the new roommate?” Paige whispers, undoubtedly mindful of the main floor’s close quarters. I nod in response. “Wow. He’s cute. You should definitely hit that.”
“Hell no. I don’t fuck around with my roommates.” My voice is a little too forceful and my eyes widen as I glance over my shoulder to ascertain whether Eric heard me. If he did, he doesn’t show it.
“Much to my eternal dismay,” Paige says with a dramatic pout.
Paige and I lived together for several years before she ditched me for Cade, leaving me pining for my bestie from afar. She’s my platonic soulmate in every way that counts — the sister I never had.
“You’re a menace,” I tease. “But I have to get going. I need to send out a few more resumes.” That’s a lie, but the pages for my next manuscript are due soon and I need to get to work. “Give Sof a kiss for me when she doesn’t smell like hot garbage.
“Will do. Love you, Mags.”
“Love you, too.”
The Books & Baddies group chat chimes with another notification. Right now, it’s just the three of us — Paige, Ivy, and me — and it’s been a nice reprieve from real life.
When Paige moved to Oak Ridge, she ran into Ivy at the local bookstore and they instantly hit it off, bonding over a shared love of romance books. Later, Ivy fell in love with Paige’s brother and the rest is history.
Books & Baddies Group Chat:
Ivy: What’s our next read?
Paige: I’ve heard amazing things about Love Between Loathing by M.W. Hartley. It’s enemies to lovers, but I’m not sure if it’s your shade of grey, Ivy.
The moment my pen name appears in the group chat, my entire body tenses. This is the first time they’ve shown any interest in my book, and if they decide to read it, they could easily recognize the inspiration for some of my characters. I have no choice but to deflect.
Mags: Maybe something with a bit more spice? I have a date with my rabbit since I’m not getting any otherwise.
Paige: Don’t forget to put it on the charger this time. There’s nothing worse than an accidental edging. We could start that one series with the giant blue aliens.
Ivy: I’ve been meaning to try it. I’m in.
Mags: My ?? thanks you for your generous contribution.
I groan in frustration as I chuck the lifeless toy across the room, narrowly missing my floor-length mirror. It lands with a thud, followed by a soft knock on my bedroom door. It’s like fate has it in for me. No orgasms for you, Maggie Watson.
“Um. Is everything okay in there?” My roommate’s voice carries through the closed door, and I momentarily panic, wondering if I locked it.
I didn’t even realize Eric was home. Could he hear the vibrations? Did I makeothernoises?Fuck my life.
I manage a weak response, letting him know everything is fine. Resisting the urge to bury my face in my pillow and scream out my frustration, I tug the plush yellow comforter over my head and pull out my phone. The dim light from the screen illuminates my cozy shame shelter as my cheeks heat with humiliation.
Books & Baddies Group Chat:
Mags: Does anybody actually use the extra settings on vibrators? Who wants a sporadic pulsing on their clit? Just give me some fucking consistency. If I wanted to be sexually frustrated, I’d find a man.
Paige: You okay, babe? That was a long ass rant about vibrators with no context.
Mags: Am I wrong though? Seriously. Who’s manufacturing these things?
Mags: Men. Obviously.
Paige: You’re talking to yourself again.
