21
For the firsttime since I was fifteen and had a crush on a guy at school, I couldn’t sleep a wink because of my raging hard-on. Every time I closed my eyes, trying to think about something,anythingother than hearing Rosie come, I failed.Miserably. Around three o’clock in the morning, after tossing and turning for the past four hours, I gave up and grabbed my phone.
Pulling up Rosie’s Instagram had been the final nail in the coffin for the night. She didn’t post regularly, but when I clicked on her profile, I saw her most recent one from a month ago and that knife that had been slowly working its way into my chest, twisted deeper.
It was a picture of us.
Okay, Fallon was there, too. Rosie had an arm around her neck as they grinned widely at the camera. I sat on Rosie’s other side, arm draped around the back of her seat. We’d been at one of my brother's games. Sitting in a cordoned off section by the field because Oliver didn’t like playing with Fallon too far away. I stared at the photo for what felt like hours.
In the picture, I wasn’t looking at the camera. I was staring straight at Rosie. A smile pulled at my lips as I watched the two of them be their chaotic selves.
And she’d posted it.
The caption read:Still hate football, but love this girl.
And that’s exactly how I was staring at her, like I was a love-struck idiot.
Scrolling through her Instagram was a bad idea. Photos of her on nights out, looking like a devil made to tempt me to the dark side. One was a picture of her standing on a beach in a tiny yellow bikini that did nothing to hide her luscious figure; hair blowing in the breeze. But what knocked all the air from my lungs was her expression. She was mid-laugh. Head thrown back, looking like she had never been more free and happy than in that moment. The image of her splayed out underneath me, eyes shining with that same freedom, made my dick hard as granite.
Sleep utterly evading me, I admitted defeat and gripped the phone tightly in my fist, as I stroked myself to my third orgasm of the night.
The next morning, on the way to pick her up, I stopped off at a cafe and picked up some food for the road, and the biggest black coffee they could make. I pulled up outside her flat a few minutes before eight to find her already lugging boxes down the steps. She couldn’t see over the top of the cardboard, her foot extended out, feeling for the top step. My heart nearly fell out of my throat when I saw her balance falter.
Hopping out of the car, I sprinted over to her and quickly grabbed the box she had in a death grip. I wrapped a hand around her waist to stop her from pitching headfirst onto the concrete, squeezing her tight to my body.
‘Oof.’ Her palms, now free from the box, landed on my chest. ‘Fuck, that could have ended badly.’
An awkward laugh tumbled past her lips. Her golden hair shone in the early morning sun. She had a light layer of makeup on and when I stepped back, feeling her hands push against me to free her, I noted the ripped jeans she wore and knitted jumper. The weather was about to turn, and where we were headed would be even colder. She looked like a model for a knitwear catalogue and I wasn’t complaining. She was cute as fuck. Not that I’d ever tell her that, I valued my balls where they were.
‘What is all this stuff?’ I asked, peering inside the box and trying not to notice the fact that her cheeks turned bright red at my touch.
‘Uh, Fallon dropped it all off yesterday. It’s balloons, a banner, candles, streamers, and a bunch of other shit. I have a list of instructions on how she wants the place decorated.’
‘Oliver hates all this birthday stuff.’
A satisfied smirk graced her lips. ‘She knows. That’s why she’s doing it. It’s revenge for what he did for her birthday.’
I chuckled at the memory. Fallonhatedbeing the centre of attention. She’d rather walk across hot coals with a chicken on her head than have all eyes on her. A few months ago, to celebrate her twenty-ninth birthday, he got T-shirts custom made. She didn’t realise what he wore under his jacket when the two of them went out for breakfast. When several photographers were behind them, shouting their names, Oliver took off his coat, threw his arms in the air and spun around, letting them get a good look at the writing on his shirt.
On the front it read: IT’S MY GIRLFRIENDS BIRTHDAY!
When he turned around, the back said: SHOW HER THE LOVE!
It was front page news the very next day. The picture started trending on social media and Fallon’s DM’s got soclogged with messages from people wishing her happy birthday she had to delete all the apps.
Seeing all the cheesy birthday shit she had planned, she clearly hadn’t forgiven him yet.
‘Those two have a really weird relationship,’ I muttered fondly.
Rosie laughed out, ‘Yeah, but their weird matches each others weird.’
That was definitely the truth. ‘You got more of this stuff?’ I gestured to the box.
She nodded. ‘Just the cake and then Roxy’s things, and my suitcase. I’ll bring it all down.’
She didn’t give me a chance to say I’d come up and help her before she stepped back and the door shut. Subtly wasn’t her strongest suit, and yet, I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face as I walked back to my truck.
Five minutes later, a loud crash pulled my attention to the front door, a second before it opened and a brown and black ball of fluff was scrambling through it like her life depended on it.
