Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
He doesn’t.
I can’t stand it.
Me: Fine. What is it?
Kip: You have to touch yourself inappropriately.
Me: What is that supposed to mean?
Kip: You know…masturbate.
Me: You’re right—that’s not at all an appropriate thing to say to someone.
And he has completely shocked me.
Kip: I thought we were past the stage of being awkward with each other.
Me: Nope. Definitely still at that stage.
Kip: Well shit…
Kip: You still going to come tonight or did I ruin it by being a pervert?
Me: Don’t worry. I’m still coming.
When I wipe the condensation off the mirror from the steam of my shower, I stand at the bathroom counter, staring at my reflection.
Consider my breasts. Shoulders.
Stomach.
The trimmed up patch of hair between my legs.
Feel myself blush, despite the flush from the hot shower I just took, chest and neck growing redder with each second I stand here, watching myself.
I can’t do it.
I cannot touch myself.
Well, I can, just not like that.
Except…I rise to my tiptoes and spread my legs a little, bending my head down to survey the damage Kip’s beard caused.
Red, red, red.
Red between my thighs, just like I knew it would be.
Sore too.
Why am I sore? I didn’t have sex.
Is this normal?
Should I google it? What would I even search: sore after receiving oral sex? Why are my legs so sore after a guy has gone down on me? Why do my inner thighs have slight bruising?
My face gets hot thinking about it.
Thinking about him.
The change in him, overnight, talking to me like he wants…more. He hasn’t said it, but he’s not looking at me the same way. He looks at me like…he’s developing a crush on me. This morning, in his kitchen, when he looked me up and down, I swear he wanted to haul me up and carry me back upstairs and…do stuff.
It took everything I had not to look at the crotch of his pants to check for a boner.
The whole thing is so unsettling for me. I’m not used to male attention, not used to someone like him wanting me as something other than a friend.
The whole thing has my stomach in knots.
My hand goes there, resting on my belly. Presses down so I can even out my breathing.
Is this what it feels like to have butterflies?
Should he be the one giving them to me? This isn’t what I planned for myself—he is not my type, not even close. When I picture myself with a guy, I imagine him clean-cut. Handsome. No facial hair, certainly not someone with hair prettier than mine.
Kip vaguely reminds me of that Brock guy, the InstaFamous dude who makes videos of himself throwing his hair up into a bun—but hairier. And less cocky and full of himself.
Kissing him with the beard wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be—had I thought about it. Sure, it could probably use some conditioning to make it softer, but all in all, not the worst.
If you don’t count the rash on my cheeks.
My phone chimes and I pick it up, expecting Kip, heart racing.
Instead, I’m disappointed to see it’s from a guy in one of my civil law classes, hounding me about the banquet the engineering department has coming up—an event I cannot afford to attend, let alone contribute to in the way of a donation.
I wouldn’t even be going if it weren’t for this grant—they’re presenting it to me there, but I still have to buy a ticket.
How stupid is that?
Tyler: Hey. We’re trying to get a final headcount for the fundraiser. You getting a ticket or what?
Me: I still don’t know why I have to buy a ticket when I’m there to receive a grant…LAME
Tyler: Because it’s a FUNDRAISER, Theodora. The department needs money too.
I don’t know how Tyler found out my real name, but he uses it frequently and it drives me nuts. Like we’re friends and he has the privilege.
Me: I know, I know, I’m just really broke right now. I don’t really have the extra money for a ticket, that’s all.
Tyler: You want me to put you down for a donation then if you don’t plan to be there for the dinner? We’re putting together baskets for the silent auction.
I just said I didn’t have any money! Why would I want to give them a donation? Ugh! He’s asked me about this no less than ten times and I’ve said no each and every one.
Me: I don’t think so. NO to the donation. Do not put me down for one. Haha.
Tyler: But yes for the dinner?
Me: It’s not like I have a choice, do I? I’ll look like an asshole if I stand in back of the room while everyone else is eating LOL
Tyler: One ticket or two?
I want to bang my head against a desk.
Me: How much are the tickets? Remind me.
Tyler: $25 for a single, $35 for a couple