“These were on the doorstep.” I lift the hydrangeas into eyesight.
“Great.” She sighs, taking them from me.
Walking past me, she heads toward the kitchen and mutters incoherent things under her breath. Following behind her, I watch as she opens the trash can, takes out the note that came with them and throws the flowers into the trash.
Her eyes scan over the note, and then she shoves it in her pocket. I don’t need to ask who the flowers are from, I already know. And as much as I hate to see beautiful flowers go to waste, I know she’s got a valid reason for doing it.
I don’t say a word as she walks over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water. Tipping it to her lips, she takes a few sips before walking past me once again. Heading back in the direction of her room, I follow behind her. “What’s up, Flower?” She asks once we step into her room.
“I, uh,” walking toward her bed, I stop in my tracks and gasp once I see what’s laying in plain view. “Holy fuck, were you…”
Looking at me, she follows where I’m looking and bursts out laughing. “Trying to do some self-care?” Walking to her bed, she picks up her vibrant pink vibrator and throws it into her beside drawer. “Yes, I was.”
Blinking, I glance between her and her bedside table. “I, uh…” I don’t even know what to say.
“Anyway, what was it that you wanted to ask?”
Blinking, I try to focus on the task at hand, and not the fact I interrupted her while she was trying to do some self-care…I don’t know if I can even look her in the face after that realization.
It’s natural, I get that. But almost walking in on one of your friends while she’s in the middle of an orgasm will never not be awkward. And I’m taken back to freshman year when I walked in her dorm room and saw her having sex. I don’t know who was more humiliated, me or the guy she was fucking. Certainly not her because she carried on riding him while I awkwardly ran from the room.
Shaking off that memory, I bring my attention back to the present and say. “I wanted to borrow some of your books.”
She gives me a questionable look. “You want to borrow some of my books?”
“Yeah, the…” clearing my throat, I scratch at the side of my neck. “The sex ones.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she looks me up and down. “And why do you want to borrow my books?”
God, is she making this awkward, or am I just suddenly getting hot and flustered? At the end of the day, they’re books…so why am I feeling awkward about asking her to borrow them?
“For research purposes.” It’s not a lie.
“Finally getting yourself back out there?” She grins, tying her black hair into a low pony.
“Something like that.” I confirm.
I didn’t want to tell her about needing them to help Greyson because it wasn’t my story to tell. Our friends knew we were “fake” dating to get Kyle to realize I’ve moved on and to leave me alone, but they didn’t know about the fact I was going to tutor him in all things sex related.
Giving me a skeptical look, she walks toward a bookshelf, places a hand on her hip and hums. I glance around her room—which is more like a library with a bed. She’s got floor to ceiling bookshelves across all four walls. On the right side of her room is a window, and even then, she’s got two shelves above it filled with books, and three below it.
Fuck, even her closet and bathroom doors are bookshelves. If you didn’t know they were there, you wouldn’t even think it. The only way to know something was off about those two particular shelves was the golden doorknobs.
Walking toward a different shelf, she picks several from there and begins placing them down on her bed before turning to face me. “Do you have a bag?” She asks. “Because I’m about to give you the best books that’ll make you so horny you won’t be able to function unless you get yourself off—or desperately text someone begging them to come over to fuck you until you’re seeing stars.”
With the glimmer in her eyes, I know she’s telling the truth.
Nodding, I exit her bedroom and make my way toward mine. Opening my closet, I take out a random tote bag before making my way back to her bedroom to see a huge pile of books on her bed.
I asked for a few, not a whole fucking bookstore. Passing the bag to her, I watch as she gently begins placing the books neatly into it.
Shifting on my feet, I glance around, anxiously fiddling with my fingers. Clearing her throat, my eyes dart to her as she stands from where she was kneeling on the floor and runs a tattooed hand through her hair.
“Why are you wearing Greyson’s sweater?” Tilting her head to the side, she looks at me with a smirk.
Looking down, I scrunch my eyebrows together before looking back at her. “How do you know it’s Greyson’s?”
Blinking, she steps forward, grabs my hand and drags me over to the full-length mirror hung on the back of her door. “Look.” She says, twisting me to the side to give a better view.
