Was this picture even meant for me? Not that it’s explicit or anything, but—Jesus Christ, my whole body goes hot and my mouth goes dry. It’s the look on her face. I’ve seen it before. Up close.
“Uh,” I say, belatedly realizing I’ve been asked a question. “She’s my mom’s fiancé’s daughter?”
Reid narrows his eyes. “So, your stepsister?”
Now even the back of my neck is hot. “Yeah, my stepsister,” I say, then put my phone back into my pocket and change the subject.
Before I go to bed,I email the second picture to myself as well. In a stunning show of restraint and impulse control, I don’t even jerk off about it until the next morning.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
MADELINE
The morningafter Ben’s Halloween party, I wake up in my own bed, which is a good start. Not that there was much chance of me waking up in someone else’s bed, but a couch or the floor would’ve been undignified.
But no, I remember calling a rideshare, paying about a million dollars, and trying not to think of any other rideshares I’d been in while the driver drove me to my house and Javier didn’t text me back.
I do, however, wake up in most of my Halloween costume. The boots are off, the shirt fully unlaced, and the corset undone but still on because clearly I freed my feet and tits and then I fell asleep.
“Shit,” I tell the ceiling, sit up, and regret it.
Half an hour later, I’ve put on comfy clothes, drunk water, taken aspirin, and ordered iced coffee for delivery because I’m just that wretched right now. I can’t evenmake coffee, a task I perform every day. It’s embarrassing. I’m embarrassing, and I haven’t even looked at my phone yet because I’m afraid that the picture I remember sending Javier isn’t the last thing I sent him. I can’t face total mortification while I’m this hungover.
If it’s just a picture of my tits or something, I’ll live. Not great, but—well, we’ve been down that road. But there was definitely a point last night where I’d had a few drinks and I was pretty buzzed, and I was talking to Ben’s girlfriend, Amy, about birds and books, and then we got onto how Shakespeare actuallyinventeda bunch of words we still use because he was a literary genius, and Ben came over and just…kissed her on the top of the head because he’s a billion feet tall and she’s, like, five foot two.
It was cute and sweet and tender, and I had one thought blaring through my head while I watched it happen:I wish Javi were here.
Obviously it was the booze making me all maudlin and shit, so I downed the rest of my beer and proceeded to get considerably drunker so that maybe I wouldn’t have that thought again.
My point being, there’s a non-zero chance that in addition to a picture where my (clothed) tits look pretty good, I also texted him some clingy shit likeI love forehead kissesorI wish you were here, and I cannot yet face that possibility.
So instead of finding out, I watch several episodes ofBob’s Burgersand only get off the couch when I need to pee. I’m in the middle of another episode when my phone buzzes, so I swear a lot, take a deep breath, swear again, and it’s just Ben.
Ben:how you feeling
Madeline:like ass
Madeline:microwaved ass
Ben:yeah you went kinda hard last night
Ben:btw you can turn your location sharing off, I made you turn it on with me last night so I could see you got home in case you decided not to answer your phone
Madeline:I wasn’t that drunk, I remember that
Ben:Sure.
Madeline:Thank you.
I take another deep breath, debate whether I want to know the answer to this question, and then decide that I may as well hear bad news from Ben if I’m gonna hear it from anyone.
Madeline:Did I…do anything embarrassing last night?
Ben:You wouldn’t stop telling Becca how pretty her costume was
Madeline:that’s not embarrassing, it was really pretty
Ben:You sword fought Mike in my living room
