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But why? I stare back at him. "I don't give a fuck where you stick your dick."
"Good."
"Yeah, great. Is that it?"
"Pretty much."
I stare back at Ethan. I'm getting in the last word here. "Goes for you, too. I didn't swear off sex when we broke up."
Okay, so I've only slept with one guy since Ethan and I broke up. Denny and I dated for a few months. He was crazy about me—he wanted to move in together—but I never felt the same. After we broke up, he nearly evaporated from my mind. It still goes back to Ethan every time I pull out my rabbit-style vibrator (he did buy it for me). Or every time I touch myself sans mechanical assistance.
I clear my throat and smile my most confident smile. "Don't get upset if you see me with someone else."
"You're sleeping around?"
"That's not a crime, is it?" I chew on my lower lip. It's not the case either, but he doesn't need to know that.
"No. Of course not. I'm glad. Anybody I know?"
"No."
"You coming often, at least?"
"Excuse me?"
"We're gonna be around each other. We should be friendly."
"Pretty sure you coming often goes past most people's idea of friendly."
"Of course, Vi. Would never want to make you uncomfortable." He smiles, the look in his eyes screaming I guess that's a no.
I clear my throat. "Yeah, I'm coming a lot. Every night." By my hand, but that's a technicality. "Sometimes multiple times."
His expression flares with frustration. "Great."
"And you? Enjoy screwing strangers at bars?"
"Depends on the stranger."
I laugh-scoff. "I guess it would."
He smiles.
Even though we're hate-flirting, I fucking melt.
Chapter 6
Violet
Sometimes people tell me that STEM students don't have enough creativity. That's dead wrong. Math is all one plus one equals two at the lower levels. Once you get into the stuff I study, it's not objective. It requires thinking outside the box. It requires a hell of a lot of creativity.
At the moment, I can feel every drop of my incredibly vivid imagination. I can practically feel Ethan's body on top of mine, can practically smell his sweat and taste his lips.
I open the door and go to slide Ethan's jacket off my shoulders.
"Hold onto it," he says.
This time, I say the right thing. "No. It's yours." I hand over the jacket. "I'm sure you get cold screwing strangers in alleys."
