I will not have my rebellion moment at my best friend’s wedding. I will not have my rebellion moment at my best friend’s wedding. I will not have my rebellion moment at my best friend’s wedding.
I can wait a freaking week, andthenI can have my rebellion moment.
Okay.
Now that I’ve reminded myself what this is, and now that I have my rebellion mentally scheduled on my calendar for a more convenient day, my entire outlook on life is significantly improved.
And it only took forty-eight minutes in the shower to get here.
With the door locked.
And several minutes of self-talk about how I didnotneed to work out any frustrations by touching any of my own erogenous zones becauseI do not masturbate to thoughts of Theo Monroe.
My mother would be horrified.
Not that I talk to her about who I think about while I’m masturbating—or that I masturbate at all.
She’d be horrified at the idea that I own a vibrator. Vaginas areno-no boxes. Penises aredanger sticks. And sex will ruin your life with babies you can’t take care of after the man who put his cooties in your no-no box leaves you without child support.
Yet here I am, with fresh images of Theo Monroe’s penis in my head.
“Stop it stop it stop it,” I mutter to my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
Or really, in the general vicinity of where my reflection should be.
That was one steamy shower.
Theo takes steamy showers.
I stifle a frustrated groan and turn around to grab my luggage, only to remember I didn’t bring it in here with me.
I didn’t.
Bring.
My luggage.
Into.
The bathroom.
Every nerve ending in my body ices over, and I get that sinking feeling in my chest at knowing if I had my own hotel room, I could dash out into the bedroom in a towel and no one would see me or care.
But while Theo might be perfectly comfortable letting it all hang out—or point out—I amnot.
Too many years of being told it’s up to me to not tempt men into impregnating me with scandalous looks. Too many years of being told I have to be a model citizen. To be perfect. That if I’m going to take over Kingston Photo Gifts one day, I need to make sure there are no questionable pictures of me in existence.
Breaking up with Christopher and realizing that while my parents want asafelife for me, I want tolive, has made me reconsider a lot of what I tell myself about work and fun. And sex. And life.
I’ve gotten way more comfortable in my own skin in the past year, but showing Theo my skin is way different from being comfortable in my own skin.
Not that there’s any danger of me sleeping with Theo. In thehaving sexkind of way.
But I still get to choose who sees me nearly naked. I didnotwant him seeing me in the only pajamas I brought last night, and I have no intention of letting him see me in them again. Unfortunately, I have nothing else in here to wrap myself in. It’s either the pajamas or a towel.
Or is it?a voice I barely recognize whispers deep inside me.
Do you want to live, Laney? Or do you want to be a prude who’s afraid of letting anyone see your body for your entire life?
