Page 47 of Falling for Mr. October

After we hang up, I hear Bianca climbing the stairs. A few seconds later, a sheet of paper is slipped under the door.

If I were a cat, I would have lost all nine of my lives to curiosity, because I don’t hesitate before picking it up. She’s waiting on the other side of the door—I can feel her presence there—as I unfold the paper.

Will you be my fake boyfriend?

Yes

No

Fuck off

I shake my head ruefully as I circle both Yes and Fuck off and slide the paper back under the door.

I hear laughter as she reads the note, followed by the creak of her door as she opens it.

I’m fucking pissed off, but I have to smile. My trust in Bianca has been shaken, yes, and yet I still admire her. It would be impossible not to. She’s going to do what she thinks is best for her family, and she’s right to. I’m just sick of feeling used.

I undress and slip into the crisp sheets, completely exhausted. Sleep is a pleasure reserved for people with quiet minds, though, and my thoughts are a tangle of Bianca’s soft lips, the Shirtless Chef, and whoever took that damn photograph. I want to erase it from their phone and their memory.

I also want it in my possession, so the moment that belonged to Bianca and me can be ours again.

I start doomscrolling through my phone, then grit my teeth and read the email from Janine.

Same old bullshit. She loves me. She loved me all along. She only needed to know that I could apply myself, and now that I’ve proven I’m not a total waste of life, she’s willing to sacrifice her two-month-old marriage for me.

I probably shouldn’t respond, but fuck it. I’ve never been a cautious man.

I write back:

Wow, Nick’s one lucky guy.

So am I.

As you’ll see tomorrow, I’ve moved on.

It was probably a mistake, but it’s not like she can show anyone without making herself look bad, and if there’s one thing Janine doesn’t like, it’s that.

I switch my phone to airplane mode and play a coloring game app to help my mind reset. So I’m still very much awake when I hear a soft buzzing on the other side of the wall—from Bianca’s room.

I jolt to intense awareness as the sound continues.

I tell myself it could be a lot of things. Maybe she’s got a muscle spasm, and it’s some kind of muscle relaxer. Or…

A soft moan seeps through the wall, barely audible.

Maybe she’s dreaming. Or she saw a mouse.

But my throbbing dick knows the score. Bianca’s in there using a vibrator.

She’s pleasuring herself a few feet away from me.

Is she thinking about kissing me as she does it?

I knew that kiss was a ten out of ten. I’d been so dazed by it that it had taken me several seconds to clear my head after that asshole took our photograph. If it had been any less amazing, I would have caught the intruder, no question, but my reflexes had been off.

I flatten one hand against the wall between our rooms, imagining what’s happening in her bed. In my mind’s eye, I can see her with her pretty head thrown back as she slides the toy inside of her. Maybe her hand is pressed to the wall, just like mine is. I like the thought that our hands could be pressed together on either side of the wall in a silent question and answer.

My hand tightens into a fist, and I almost knock on the wall—the special knock that signifies it’s time to sneak out. Maybe she’d know what I meant by it. Maybe she’d come over and climb into my bed, and I could sink into the sweet heat of her and forget everything, just for a while.