“He ate me out,” I all too quickly say.
“When? Where? Holy shit! Was he good?” she rapid fires the questions. I can hardly hear them from how quickly they’re coming out of her mouth.
I drag my palm to the nape of my heated neck and push my hair away. “Slow down. You’re talking too fast.” I shakily breathe out, rubbing my thighs together at the memory. “It happened two days ago. Here, outside by the pool. And yeah, he was…reallygood.” I close my eyes, swallowing back the moan that tempts to crawl from the back of my throat.
“Aw, you’re opening up to me. Did I just unlock another level in our friendship?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever. We leveled up, I guess,” I mumble, feeling awkward.
She laughs as if she could sense that. “And then what happened?”
“Nothing. He ate me out while he fingered—” Her eyes go wide, lips stretched so far, all her pearly white teeth are showing. “Me. I came and then we went inside, watched the firstFinal Destinationmovie, had tacos, and went to bed—not together,” I add because I know she’ll ask.
We would’ve stayed up longer but he needed to rest for the second game of the series. Which they won yesterday. I watched it on TV, of course, and gawked the entire time.
“Aw, that’s so cute,” she coos, her eyes sparkling. “And on Valentine’s Day? That’s what you call a date.”
I don’t tell her that he called it that too because it really wasn’t. Friends do that sort of thing all the time, minus the whole giving out orgasms.
“We didn’t cuddle. It wasn’t a date. We just happened to do that stuff on the day that Valentine’s Day fell on.”
She snickers, sitting back on her butt. “What does this mean for you and Danny? Are you guys friends with benefits? Dating?”
I shake my head and that same shriveling feeling returns. No, fuck that, I’m fine. “No, neither. It was a one-time thing. He needed a distraction; I did too. So…yeah. That’s that.”
She patronizingly smiles at me. “Josie, my sweet ray of sunshine, be so for real.”
“What?” I answer, bemused.
“He bought you flowers.” She waves her hand over to the yellow flowers littering my house. Yeah, I still can’t get over that and Vi lost it when she saw them and I told her they were from him. “These aren’tjust becauseflowers. These areI care about youflowers.I think about youflowers.I want youflowers.You mean a lot to meflowers. No guy goes out of their way to buy a shit ton of flowers if you don’t mean something to them. These areI like youflowers.”
That makes my skin itch. Daniel liking me? Yeah right.
“He didn’t let me return the favor. He hasn’t brought it up. And…well, there’s nothing else to add to that. Trust me, he needed the distraction badly, and I happened to be there. So yeah…”
The knot in my throat returns, but I clear my throat until it semi dissolves.
Her brows pinch, the corners of her eyes softening, lips pressed together in what looks like sympathy. “What do you mean you happened to be there?”
“I shouldn’t have worded it like that. I meant…” I groan, not sure what I really mean, but she’s staring at me like she could fight somebody. “I used him; he told me to. It was something we both mutually wanted, but it was never meant to be more. It happened and I’m over it.”
Not really. I’m so far from over it, but I knew what I was doing going into it. So I need to find a way togetover it.
She stares at me like she’s not convinced.
I shrug before she says anything else. “It’s really okay. He was great, and gave me what I wanted. We got it out of our systems.” For a second time now. “I promise there’s nothing between us. We were just horny.” And bared parts of our souls to each other.
I can’t stop thinking about the things he shared with me. I wish I could do more for him, but I can barely figure out how to help myself.
Ihatemyself.
“Look, Kai got a home run.” I point, looking away from her probing eyes.
I hate myself for opening up because now I’m struggling to close that part of me I don’t let anyone see. But I hardly shared anything; surely, she can’t see that I’m battling with insecurities.
The front door opening and closing makes me stop in my tracks halfway down the stairs.
“Daniel?” I warily call out.
