MADISON
WINE NOT
Me: I think I did something really stupid
Tessa: WHO DID YOU DO?
Me: OMG why is that the first thing you ask?
Tessa: Girl, I’ve known you practically your whole life.
Me: …fair
Halle: Wait… Are you the reason why my brother is currently whistling in the kitchen with a stupid smile on his face?
Sarah: You noticed that too?? I thought I was hallucinating from sleep deprivation
Halle: Asher said he looked weird
Tessa: Are you two literally texting in the same roomright now?
Sarah: No. I’m at the park with Remi. Little monster decided to wake up with the sun today.
Tessa: But he’s a cute monster! Come by the coffee shop and I’ll make him a milkshake and have a coffee waiting for you.
Sarah: Tessa congrats you are my new favorite person.
Halle: HEY!
Tessa: Sucker Hals.
Tessa: Madi spill now!
Me: You know what. I take it all back. I didn’t do anything stupid.
Halle: HA HA very funny
Halle: Also family dinner tonight!
Tessa: YESSS I love a Dawson barbecue night.
Me: Fine but please don’t make a thing of it.
I drop my phone onto the bed and face-plant beside it, groaning into my pillow. They’re not going to let this go. Best-case scenario: I turn up, and theysubtlypull me aside so we can talk about it discreetly. That could work. I could get behind that. Worst case? They circle me like vultures until I spill everything, then scream about it so loud, the guys will hear every damn detail, and I’ll have no choice but to crawl into a hole and live there forever.
My heart does that stupid fluttery thing again when I think about his mouth on me. God, my legs actually tremble remembering it. I should not be this weak. I should not bedying for more, and I definitely shouldn’t be smiling like an idiot alone in my room.
Yet here I am. One orgasm. One good, toe-curling orgasm from the only man who’s ever made me feel safe and wanted, and suddenly my chest feels too full, like I’m ready to hand over my whole heart to him. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. I was meant to ignore him. To put space between us. To go on some dates with other people, be alone for a while, and only stay friends with him. But then, we both admitted we hate the word friend, and we both want to be scared together. I leaped, and he crawled back under my skin.
Pivoting.
That’s what people call it, right? Changing plans. Switching courses. Since my heart—and, fine, my vagina—missed the memo about staying away from him. I think it’s only fair to make him beg, to make him wait until it hurts.
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling, as a slow smirk curls at the corner of my mouth. Did he go home last night and touch himself? Did he finally give in to all that pressure straining behind his zipper? God, the way he looked at me. The heat of his stare, crawling over my skin, the tension in his body. I bite down on my lip, remembering how hard he was. There’s no way he didn’t crack. No way he resisted. My fingers drift across my sheets until they brush my phone. Before I can think, before I even realize it, I pull up our messages and act on pure impulse.
Me: Hi friend.
His reply lights up my screen so fast, my breath hitches with excitement.
