Page 20 of Personal Foul
“I just had a hookup recently. And it was good, really fucking good. Unexpected. I mean I thought maybe we’d have some chemistry. I’d been interested for a bit but, fuck, this girl just like… every fucking kink I have, every single thing I like, her body… all of it.”
“Sounds like a unicorn.”
“Something like that. I can’t get her out of my head though.”
“So see her again. Aren’t they usually begging you for a second round anyway?”
“Not her.”
“What’d you fuck up?” Waylon gives me a surprised look as he takes a sip of his energy drink.
“I don’t fucking know.”
Not entirely a lie. I don’t know, but I can guess. She doesn’t want the association. She’s smart, driven, independent. I know Mac and Liv count on her for advice, that she’s the brains behind their little trio. The idea that she would end up in bed with me even out of pity seemed so impossible I’d never thought what the reality and the aftermath would be like.
“Well, step one. Figure that out. Step two, fix whatever you fucked up. Knowing you, you blew the aftercare portion of the event and she thinks you’re an ass.”
“I didn’t. She did,” I say defensively, and immediately regret it with the way Waylon’s eyes snap over to me.
“How did she blow it?”
“Basically told me to fuck off,” I grumble.
“Then it was before that. Did she get off?”
“Yes, she fucking got off.” I glare at him.
“Are you sure? Mac says women can be excellent at faking it. Not that I would know.” A little smarmy grin flits across his face.
“I’m fucking positive. If she hadn’t, she would have told me. Trust me.”
“That doesn’t sound like your usual type.” He looks over me like he’s trying to puzzle it out.
“She wasn’t my usual type, no.”
“Then maybe don’t go out of your lane.”
“Out of my lane? Because Mac was in yours?”
“East, man, I don’t know how to say this without being a dick but I’m going to try. Yeah, I wasn’t exactly Mac’s type but we kind of had a thing going. I knew on some level she liked me. I knew I wanted her. Not just for a hookup. You’re… not really the kind. I’m not saying you can’t be. I’m just saying, don’t go chasing after this girl if all you want is another hookup. She sounds like she has her reasons for moving on, and unless you have solid ones for her to want to revisit things with you—you’re both better off going your separate ways.”
It hits me a little in the chest to hear him say it so plainly, but he had good points. The only problem is I think I might want more than a hookup. I think I might actually want her to see me as something beyond that which is terrifying as fuck.
TEN
Wren
I’m staringat the ice cream bars in the store when I come to from my latest daydream about Easton. I throw the freezer door open and grab one of the boxes, tossing it into my basket, and practically slamming the door shut again. I cannot get the man out of my head, and now knowing we are going to be stuck together for an entire semester. It’s fucking terrible. There’s no way for me to avoid him.
I don’t want to think about how he felt, how he kissed, how he talked, or how he fucked me. I don’t want to think about how I want him to do it again. I don’t want to think about what a bitch I was to him after. And worst of all, I don’t want to think about the fact that I can’t avoid him forever because we still have to work on this project. Although, thankfully, he has been quiet the last several days, and I’ve skipped that class this week because I had to work an extra shift.
Tammy was sick. One of our two dishwashers was on the fritz. My blow dryer and my vibrator have broken this week. And if one more thing goes wrong, I’m going to scream. Which reminds me, I need to pick up replacements. Thankfully we live in the modern era where I can get my ice cream bars, blow dryer, and vibrator replacements all at the same big box store. Along with the latest historical romance movie and candy. Becausefuck it.It has just been that kind of week.
I stand in the condom aisle, grabbing a pack because what I really need more than a vibrator at the moment is a one-night stand. Something to erase Easton from my memory. Except that’s work, a lot of small talk I don’t want to bother with, and hours spent weeding out a decent one-night stand prospect from the dozens of would-be, could-be jackasses on a dating app. All things I don’t have time for. But I’m still an optimist so in the basket it goes. I grab one of the cheap vibrators too because replacing the one that broke is not going to be an inexpensive affair, and I do not have the money right now.
“That one’s not as good as this one.”
Holy fuck. I am hearinghisdisembodied voice give me advice on vibrators now. I need help. Maybe a trip to the grippy sock ward. This is getting out of hand.
