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Wait, what?
“Um…”
“I’d like you to come.”
I blink. My brows rise and my voice sounds shrill. “Right now?”
He chuckles again. How is he so calm after all that?
“No, Olympia. Not now. To the show this weekend.”
Those stupid burns in my cheeks burn hotter. “Oh, duh. Um, yeah, sure. Love to.”
He looks like he’s fighting a smile, so I toss my thumb over my shoulder and mutter, “I’m going to go sit outside. I need to clear my head.” I’m already turning around when I huff, “I need frigging yoga.”
His laughter follows me as I escape onto the patio, knowing that he leaves for work not long after, and relieved for it.
I’m not cut out for this kind of anxiety, I think, as I tug my phone from the little pocket in my shorts to text Charlie.
OMG. I’m dying.
Why are you dying? Has the asshat had enough of you beating him at his own game and now he’s killing you?
Do I need to alert the boys in blue?
You have an obsession with the police, Charlie.
Have you seen them in uniform?
They need to make a calendar.
Pretty sure there’s a calendar.
If there was, I’d know.
What’s going on?
I don’t know.
Tav walked in on me last night…
Doing what?
You know that vibrator I bought…
My phone starts to ring, Charlie’s name flashing on my screen. I cringe as I take the call, hearing her shriek, “What the hell, girl! Tell me everything.”
“I’m so confused!” I wail.
“Why are you confused. Details, girl. I need details.”
“I was—well, you know?—”
“You were masturbating, yeah. Get to the part where he walked in.”
I start the process of stripping from my sweater, because I’m just too hot with shame, and humiliation, and all the other emotions that keep bombarding me, wreaking havoc on me.
“I was totally naked, Charlie.” My confession comes out weak. “And worse, I was failing.”
