Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I had chalked it up to needing something new and fresh to play with, and then had just been distracted by work and friends since then.
It was time to end the drought.
I would feel better after a good orgasm.
"Alright. I'm hitting it," I said, waving toward my bedroom. "Savvs, you are getting ready for your day, I imagine."
"Kinda pointless to go back to bed now," she said as Jamie went back to the couch, giving the penis pillows a grimace as she sprawled out.
"I'll let Hannibal out before I head to work," Jamie promised.
"And I will come to pick him up at my lunch break. He can come hang at the store with me. Cam said he doesn't mind here and there since all he does is lay around and eat treats."
See, this is why having a network of friends was awesome. Hell, some mornings I woke up to find French toast on the stove. Or came home at night to find Jamie had stripped the bed, washed my sheets, and remade it.
Since Autumn left, I had never really gotten used to living alone. I was too used to having people around, having someone to talk to all the time, having another person to cook for because cooking just for yourself was lame. It was lonelier than I had imagined to be on my own. So when people wanted to crash for a few weeks - or months - like Jamie, or stayed over at night because they were too tired to drive home, like Savea, I didn't mind. In fact, I kind of preferred it.
"You close early tomorrow, right?" Savvy asked, following me into the doorway of my room as I rummaged in my dresser for panties and and pajamas.
"Yeah." On Saturdays, the library was open until seven instead of nine. Which meant I only worked a three-hour shift. Which was kind of ridiculous. But since it was a Saturday, and I wasn't an old lady yet, it worked. I had time to head home, get changed, eat, and head out for the night.
"I don't close until nine if you want to pick Hannibal up on the way home."
"Will do," I agreed. "Can I persuade you into coming out tomorrow night? You're off Sunday," I reasoned.
"If you promise not to get too crazy," she stipulated. "And in case your Crazy Compass isn't calibrated the same as mine, that means nothing that would get us arrested. Or somehow end up at a frat house hazing party."
"That was one time!" I said, dropping down into bed. "And no one made you coat that kid in honey."
"Except you shoving the little bear into my hands!" she shot back.
"Good times. Besides, don't act like you aren't still Facebook and Instagram buddies with that kid. I've seen you like his posts. Now go get to making some kind of awesome breakfast," I demanded, nudging Hannibal, the world's laziest Basset Hound, which was saying something - away from my pillow so I could rest on it instead.
"Hannibal!" she called in her sing-song animal-calling voice. "Hannibal the Animal," she went on as his tail started thumping against my thigh. "Do you want a treat? A yummy yummy liver treat?"
"Only if you pair it with fava beans and a nice Chianti," I told her as he jumped down so I could pull my blankets over my body.
"I'll see what I can do," she said, leading him out of my room and closing the door.
Try as I might, I had the worst sleep.
It wasn't something I was normally afflicted with.
I generally had long days that involved a lot of eye-strained reading. By the time I dropped into bed, I was beat, and asleep in minutes.
Even considering the fucked up shit I read as bedtime stories, I wasn't often bothered by bad dreams or tossing and turning.
But tonight, I was tossing and turning, flipping over my pillow, kicking off my blankets, convinced I must have been uncomfortable in some way, that that had to be the culprit because there was no way in God's green Earth that I was tossing and turning because my brain couldn't stop thinking about a guy that I met for two-point-five seconds. Nope. That wasn't me. I wasn't that kinda girl. I was the kind of girl who forgot your name the day after I made out with you and started to refer to you as You know, the guy with the raven tattoo on his shoulder that always smelled like cinnamon vape?
I definitely never tried to analyze the shade of gray your eyes were. Or wonder if there were other badass stories to go along with your scars and ink.
Ugh.
Around eight, I rolled out of bed after having maybe gotten one solid hour of sleep, knowing it was useless to keep trying. This was what coffee and energy drinks were made for.