How about I accidentally catch it in my zipper as punishment? If I thought I felt bad for texting the idiotic line before, it’s got nothing on how I feel now.
***
Five hours later, with three boxes of takeout food stacked in my arms and a paper bag dangling from my wrist, I knock on Blair’s door, still in my work clothes.
Shower can wait.
I’ve got some serious apologizing to do. I never guilt-tripped a girl for being on her period. Had I known, I definitely wouldn’t have done it this time.
The door opens, Blair’s pretty face contorts into a scowl as she looks me over, one eyebrow raised. “What do you want?”
“I’m sorry,” I say, stepping closer, not close enough that she won’t be able to shut the door in my face though. “I’m having a shitty day and I took it out on you. I didn’t mean what I said.” I lift the takeout boxes higher. “Pizza, Chinese, and Italian. I didn’t know what you’d want.”
The two wrinkles on her forehead even out, vulnerability peeking through the cracks of her composure.
“No one has ever apologized to me,” she admits quietly. “Thank you, and I’m sorry, too. I should’ve told you I’m on my period instead of tiptoeing around the subject.” She glances at the bag hanging from my wrist. “What’s in there?”
“I’ll show you if you let me in.”
Her combative stance across the threshold wavers, and she opens the door further, stepping aside. “We’re not having sex tonight, Cody.”
“A true sailorman will cross the red sea, baby. Orgasms help with cramps, you know?”
“I’m the one with a vagina here, so yes, I do know. Do you know what also helps? Heat packs, pills, and candy bars. I don’t feel sexy right now so no orgasms. It’s gross.” She closes the door, staying in the same spot as I dump the takeout boxes on the kitchen island.
“It’s not gross. It’s normal. I’m not here for sex, B, but I could make you squirt in the shower so it’s lessgross.”
“I’ll pass, thanks,” she says, scrunching her nose, eyes glimmering softly. “So? What’s in the bag?”
“Take a look.”
TWENTY-SIX
Blair
CANDY BARS. Lots of candy, a scented candle, a bath bomb that smells like coconuts and vanilla, tampons, pills, and even some lame rom-com.That’swhat’s in the bag.
A period survival kit.
I peer up at Cody from where I stand looking at the contents spread before me.
“What is it? Did I forget something? I can run out and—”
“You bought me tampons,” I whisper.
He cocks an eyebrow, scrutinizing the box. “Do you not use tampons? I can go buy pads if you want.”
“No, this... this is perfect.” My hands tremble as I place every item back in the bag, my thoughts in overdrive.
Cody crosses the room then hauls me onto the counter, both hands gripping the marble edge as he beds his elbows, staring at me. “What’s wrong?”
Needing something to do with my fingers, I wrinkle the hem of his black polo shirt.
My heart pounds a wild rhythm of hope and fear. This is so much more than just being friendly. It’s intimate, personal. Something a boyfriend would do, not a man who labeled himself my enemy.
He shouldn’t be here. As much as I want him to spend time with me outside the bedroom, he shouldn’t. He’s not doing us any favors. We’re tiptoeing on thin ice, and it’s more like stomping when he acts considerate and helpful. Tender, sweet,caring.
When he looks at me like he never wants to look away.
