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Atty and I haven’t talked since we were supposed to meet up at The Creamery. I haven’t wanted to face him and all the ugly feelings that come out when I do. At least here if I start to spiral I can spout my mouth off and Corvin will shut it down.
“Need to talk about something, sweetheart?”
That stupid little pet name earns him a glare, but he simply smiles, points a circle around his face and mouths, “Sour.”
“Nope. Just going to class. Don’t worry; I’ll make the appointment.”
Shoving my phone in my hoodie pocket, I reach for the handle only to stop when Corvin clears his throat.
“What?”
“Forgetting something?”
He motions towards my desk, where a bottle of water and my pill container sits with today’s cap down. I only barely hold back the groan as I march to the desk, flip the cap up and guzzle enough water to drown the pills as I pop them in my mouth.
I show him the empty container and stick my tongue out for good measure like I do every morning. He doesn’t actually ask me to do it, but it gets on his nerves. Which is good enough for me.
As soon as I turn to head out the door, a firm smack lands on the center of my ass, and I reach out to steady myself with the corner of the desk.
“Brat.”
I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction or knowing just a playful smack like that ignites a warm fuzz in my chest.
I must be out of my damn mind to play these games with Corvin of all people, but if it gives me this pocket of peace away from the world, I’ll take the extra dose of pain it brings.
I’m no stranger to overdoses after all.
“I was joking about the Dom thing before but wow.”
Valco leans over from his position sprawled on the couch to peer at the paper sitting on his coffee table that I keep trying to get through. Which is a task with his quippy commentary and constant breathing down my neck.
“Fuck off, puppy breath.” I shove him back with an elbow to the collarbone, ignoring his grunt of discomfort.
It’s a one page paper he printed off this morning and shoved in my bag before I could take a look. There’s pink highlighted headings with lists of what I assume are kinks below with checkboxes. A guide in the upper right corner gives me a scale of interest much like the verbal one Corvin gave me before.
Internet curiosity over the years means I have a basic grasp of most of the things on the list. Some that have already made my body warm with budding arousal.
Damn him.
“Are these all things that he’s into?”
I shrug. “He said he has his own copy that he gives to the people he plays with after they turn theirs in.”
“Oh.” Valco’s tone makes me whip my head around from where I’m sitting between the table and the couch. “He gave you homework. And you’re doing it.”
My first instinct is to crumple the paper and shove it down Valco’s pants as a double fuck you to them both, but curiosity already has me in a chokehold.
“Roll over and smoke your joint. Wake your sister up if you need someone to pester.”
Even without turning around, I know Valco is snarling at the ceiling.
“She’s passed out with her band buddies. Nothing I need to see there.”
It’s become an unspoken rule that we don’t talk about what Vulture does when she goes out. There’s a loudly proclaimed rule that this duo she’s been hanging out with is on Valco’s shitlist.
Going through the boxes, there’s a lot of ‘meh, sure’ options that I don’t care to try but I’m not foaming at the mouth to experience. Sometimes those are easy things like ‘blindfolds’ and ‘handcuffs’. Then, there are things like dressing up in heels and corsets that are a huge ass ‘fuck no’.
I even wrote that down for extra emphasis.
