I grin and keep walking, phone warm in my hand, feeling oddly steadier than I have in a long time.
Maybe that’s what it feels like when things start lining up.
27
Licky Licky
Christa
I’m in the kitchenat two sixteen in the morning with a teaspoon and a jar of hazelnut chocolate spread.
No bread. No plate. Just me, the jar, and the kitchen light judging my life choices.
I’m mid-scoop when I hear footsteps.
“Please tell me that’s peanut butter,” Geoff says from behind me.
I don’t turn round. I don’t stop.
“Hazelnut chocolate,” I say.
There’s a pause. Then, “Right.”
I eat another spoonful and look at him. He is wearing long-hanging, black pyjama trousers and a white T-shirt. And, I have to say, he looks mighty fine.
Geoff pads closer, sleepy and cautious, like I might bite. “You okay?”
I consider this. Put the spoon down. Lean back against the counter.
“No,” I say flatly. “I’m horny.”
He blinks.
Once.
Twice.
“Okay,” he says carefully. “Thank you for… sharing.”
“It’s hormones,” I add, annoyed. “They’ve come out of nowhere and they’re being very rude about it.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, half-awake, half-amused. “That does sound disruptive.”
I sigh and tip my head back against the cupboard door.
“My vibrator just wasn’t up to the job,” I say, flat and irritated. “What my body wants is… another body. Preferably above me.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then I watch Geoff swallow.
Hard.
He glances down, frowns, and mutters, “Not even this rouses you.”
The sheer grumpiness of it breaks me.
I laugh. Loud. Undignified. Tears threatening.
