“Alright, but swear not to say anything until I’m finished.” I hold out my pinky to her.
“What are we … twelve?” She laughs, looking down at my finger. I don’t move it.
“Oh, you’re serious.” She looks up at me and extends her pinky, curling it around mine. “Fine, weirdo. I promise not to interrupt you.” She rolls her eyes, sighing.
“Okay, so.” I take a sip of my wine as Lydia sits cross-legged with her head resting in her palms, smiling widely. “We were in the parking lot after meeting at Books and Brews. I ran out, and he followed me to my car.” Lydia starts to speak but catches herself, throwing her hand over her mouth and nodding at me to continue.
“He followed me to my car, and then he grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around until he had me pinned against my car. I could feel his di—” Lydia gasps, bringing her otherhand up over her mouth like it takes an astronomical amount of effort to stop herself from speaking. I giggle at her absurdity and continue.
“I could feel hisdickpressed up against me. It was … not small.” I feel warmth move up my neck and into my cheeks. “There was so much tension.”
“And then?!” she blurts out before throwing her hands back over her mouth, eyes wide. I’ll give her a pass for that one.
“And then, I pushed him off, got in my car, and drove home.” Her eyes look like they might just bulge out of her skull, hands clamped tightly over her mouth.
I laugh. “You can speak now.”
“You … what? You just left Mr. Hottie professor standing there, blue balls and all?” She’s laughing hard like she can picture it. “Oh my God,Lo.This issogood.” She’s still laughing, now grabbing onto my arm.
“Lydiaaaa. I need advice. I haven’t talked to him since then. Like, what do I even say? Sorry, Mr. Professor Sir. I know you just had yourerectionpressed against me in a parking lot. But what do you say to a date?” Now I’m the one laughing hysterically.
“Not Mr. Professor Sir.” Lydia throws her head back, tears now coming out of her eyes from the hysteria. She stops, eyeing me with a serious expression.
“Wait … you haven’t talked to himat allyet?” she asks.
“Nope. Imighthave gotten off to the thought of him in my bathtub a couple of times, but nope … not a conversation,” I blurt out. We’re close, and there isn’t much we don’t tell each other. Plus, the alcohol seeping into my bloodstream has me a little loose-lipped.
“Sloane. You dirty girl,” she mocks.
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes.
“Oh, Sloane, I think you have the hots for Mr. Professor Sir,” she declares.
“I mean, I might be willing to explore something there,” I say, admitting it to myself for the first time.
“This is awesome. I’m so jealous of your life right now. I can’t even get a guy to put up with all this.” She waves her hands over herself. “Oh, speaking of, can you get the big guy’s number when you meet with Van. He was sohot… in like a tense, broody, mysterious way.”
“You don’t even know what he looks like.” I scoff.
“I don’t need to. I can tell these things,” she assures me.
“Oh, is that so? Shall we add clairvoyant to your resume, then?” I mock. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Unless you’re saving him for your reverse harem?!” she blurts out, laughing at herself like she’s the grand jester at a carnival.
“Stoppp,” I whine, smacking her with the throw pillow again, standing from the sofa. “Okay, as much as I would love to continue this comedy bit that is my life, I gotta call it a night. Lock up before you head to bed?”
“Yeah, yeah. We both know you aren’t going straight to bed after that. I hope you charged the purple goddess.” ‘Purple Goddess’ is the name Lydia gave my … never mind.
“Lydia! Go to bed, you nympho,” I say, walking toward my stairs.
I’m exhausted from that ridiculously hysterical conversation with Lydia. I can always count on her to make me feel better about my questionable life choices. What else are best friends for, if not to encourage your delusions? But I’m also the type of person who feels immense mental exhaustion after something like that. Too much peopling, as I like to call it. So, I climb into bed and drift off in no time as my head hits my pillow. Imagesof gray sweatpants bulges and black cloaks flash through my subconscious as I drift off to sleep.
? ? ?
I’m awakened by a noise coming from downstairs. I roll over and squint open one eye to see that it’s only 2:11 in the morning. I sigh, rolling onto my back as I rub my eyes with the palms of my hands. There’s already a faint headache forming in the front of my skull. I need to remember to drink water on wine nights.
I lazily sit up, pushing the duvet off to the side, and stand. What is Lydia doing up at this time? I walk out of my room and toward the stairs. Once I get to the bottom step, I look up to a noise coming from my living room window. I notice someone wearing all black climbing out of it.
