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That made her cock her head to the side.
“Ah-ha, you are hungry,” I told her, reaching for my phone to place the order.
After hanging up, both of us slowly started getting dressed to pick it up together, but when she reached for her doorknob, she hesitated and looked back at me with a cringe.
I wiped a hand over my face, wondering if there was something on me. “What?”
“You can’t leave the house looking like that.”
My mouth dropped open. “Looking like what?!”
She covered her mouth to muffle her giggles, then completely doubled over.
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh at the guy who was broken-hearted for a minute there,” I joked, and that just made her laugh harder. “Okay, okay,” I rolled my eyes, “can you just fix it for me?”
She wiped tears from her eyes as her laughter finally subsided and she led me into the bathroom to fix it up.
She brought a chair into the bathroom and ordered me to sit, then twisted her lips as she moved my head around curiously.
“Have you ever done this before?” I asked her hesitantly.
She didn’t answer. She started chewing on her bottom lip, then she started.
It was going pretty well, except every time I thought she had finished, she just kept going.
And lemme tell ya– it ended up pretty damn short.
When she finally shut off the razor, she looked at me happily. “What do you think?”
“Uh…” I used a hand to brush it off a bit.
Her face fell.
“No, it’s good. Thank you,” I said. I honestly didn’t care what I looked like, so long as I got to be with her, but I couldn’t keep my face from faltering a bit.
She threw her arms around my neck from behind and looked at our reflection in the mirror. “WellIthink it looks cute. Tough even. Shows off your sharp cheekbones,” she said, and then she licked my cheekbone.
I pulled back from her and wiped my face. “Did you just lick me?!”
“Depends,” she grinned. “Did you like it?”
She knew the tickle attack was coming this time, and she pulled away before I could grab her back. She practically cackled as she left the room, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I trailed after her.
When we got back with the food, I started laying it all out on the table, but she scooped every little white box that I put down back up into her arms, then walked down the hall toward her bedroom.
“Food is better in bed!” she called out, and I didn’t have to be told twice.
We had our little feast while watching a true-crime documentary on the small TV in her bedroom.
She didn’t eat much though, and I think she got a kick out of watching me eat her leftovers.
It was then that I noticed she was holding a hand to her lower stomach underneath the waistband of her lulu shorts. I wondered how long she’d been doing that, and I cursed at myself for not noticing earlier.
“You good?” I asked her, nodding to her hand.
Her face scrunched up. “Yeah. Probably just from drinking yesterday or my period coming or something,” she said, brushing it off. “Or the shorts I was wearing earlier were too tight. Sometimes that happens with my skating tights and it makes me feel sick to my stomach the rest of the day,” she explained. “I cut the band of my tights with scissors when that happens,” she said with a laugh.
“Jeez you just named off too many potential factors for my brain. Being a girl is crazy,” I said, trying to mentally file away this Claire-knowledge.
