hips against
me, and I forget that I’m simulating. I shut my eyes, a small moan
escaping my lips.
“ There you go.” He thrusts
again, and I can feel every inch of him rub against my sex, nothing
separating us but the thin fabric of our underwear.
“ Oh, God,” I
murmur.
He lowers his lips to my ear. “Relax,”
he whispers, grinding into me again. My hands come up in between
us, fingers grazing abs, finding their way to his back. My nails
slowly drag across his skin, and his breath hitches.
My eyes flutter open, and I realize
that his face is right above mine. I could raise my head and catch
his lips if I wanted to. I could reach back and unsnap my bra, or
drag the fabric of my panties to the side and order him to stop
teasing me, because that’s all this really is. A whole shit ton of
teasing.
But then that would make me the other
woman. The whore.
“ You should probably go
take a shower,” I say.
He swallows and nods, but says
nothing, rolling from me and getting off the bed. When the door to
the joining bathroom shuts, I exhale.
Holy mother of God.
I’ve never wanted someone so bad in my
life. And I’ve never wanted someone that I couldn’t
have.
When he comes back into the room, I
pretend to be asleep even though I can’t be fooling him. But he
doesn’t call for me. Instead, he slides into bed, shirtless and
smelling of soap, and I wonder what his skin feels like fresh out
of the shower.
What it tastes like.
^^^^
After a vegan breakfast of carob chip
pancakes and maple syrup, Mom won’t let me go. In the doorway, she
clings to me tightly, and says, “You’re such a champ, Evan, you
know that, right? I’ve been a failure of a mother and haven’t been
able to help you at all and yet here you are, managing your money
perfectly, getting scholarships, not even in debt.”
I cringe. Managing my
money perfectly? More like managing my lies perfectly. Scholarships
are my excuse for staying afloat, when in reality the only aid I’ve
received for school is one measly little state grant. East Park Exposed is my
savior. And I hope to God Mom never finds out. That would be an
awkward dinner conversation.
“ Are you sure you don’t
need money?” I ask softly.
“ Evan!” She finally pulls
back. “Don’t you ever offer again. I mean it. I’m perfectly fine.
The new place suits me. I really like my new neighbors.”
She’s lying through her teeth. It must
run in the family.
“ All right.” I kiss her on
the cheek. “Love you.”
As Dallas and I pull away from Mom’s
unit, I wonder if her answer would be the same if she knew I had
almost ten grand saved up. If not telling her, if letting her live
here thinking that I’m barely scraping by, makes me a terrible
daughter.
Dallas
Evan says nothing about last night on
our way back to the studio. What’s worse is that she keeps talking,
yammering on about the most mundane shit ever—biology. The thing
is, Evan doesn’t yammer, so I can only assume that this is some
kind of coping mechanism to avoid awkward conversation.
I should have never “practiced” posing
with her last night. I got ahead of myself. Thing is, even if I
told Tricia, she would probably just brush it off, telling me that
doing things like that with Evan is just part of the job. That’s
why I have to be even more careful. Only I can hold myself
accountable.
Which is becoming harder to do. The
more she blabs on about this article she read on the internet about
mutating genes in kittens, the more I want to order her to pull the
car over, push her against the window, and shut her up with my
mouth.
My fantasies are getting out of
control.
Luckily, I don’t have to listen to any
more biology crap when we roll up to the studio. The cul-de-sac is
packed with cars. Evan opens the front door, and the place is
buzzing with people—models, makeup artists, writers, photographers.
Britain runs up to us, her eyes bright with excitement.
“ The numbers are
me, and I forget that I’m simulating. I shut my eyes, a small moan
escaping my lips.
“ There you go.” He thrusts
again, and I can feel every inch of him rub against my sex, nothing
separating us but the thin fabric of our underwear.
“ Oh, God,” I
murmur.
He lowers his lips to my ear. “Relax,”
he whispers, grinding into me again. My hands come up in between
us, fingers grazing abs, finding their way to his back. My nails
slowly drag across his skin, and his breath hitches.
My eyes flutter open, and I realize
that his face is right above mine. I could raise my head and catch
his lips if I wanted to. I could reach back and unsnap my bra, or
drag the fabric of my panties to the side and order him to stop
teasing me, because that’s all this really is. A whole shit ton of
teasing.
But then that would make me the other
woman. The whore.
“ You should probably go
take a shower,” I say.
He swallows and nods, but says
nothing, rolling from me and getting off the bed. When the door to
the joining bathroom shuts, I exhale.
Holy mother of God.
I’ve never wanted someone so bad in my
life. And I’ve never wanted someone that I couldn’t
have.
When he comes back into the room, I
pretend to be asleep even though I can’t be fooling him. But he
doesn’t call for me. Instead, he slides into bed, shirtless and
smelling of soap, and I wonder what his skin feels like fresh out
of the shower.
What it tastes like.
^^^^
After a vegan breakfast of carob chip
pancakes and maple syrup, Mom won’t let me go. In the doorway, she
clings to me tightly, and says, “You’re such a champ, Evan, you
know that, right? I’ve been a failure of a mother and haven’t been
able to help you at all and yet here you are, managing your money
perfectly, getting scholarships, not even in debt.”
I cringe. Managing my
money perfectly? More like managing my lies perfectly. Scholarships
are my excuse for staying afloat, when in reality the only aid I’ve
received for school is one measly little state grant. East Park Exposed is my
savior. And I hope to God Mom never finds out. That would be an
awkward dinner conversation.
“ Are you sure you don’t
need money?” I ask softly.
“ Evan!” She finally pulls
back. “Don’t you ever offer again. I mean it. I’m perfectly fine.
The new place suits me. I really like my new neighbors.”
She’s lying through her teeth. It must
run in the family.
“ All right.” I kiss her on
the cheek. “Love you.”
As Dallas and I pull away from Mom’s
unit, I wonder if her answer would be the same if she knew I had
almost ten grand saved up. If not telling her, if letting her live
here thinking that I’m barely scraping by, makes me a terrible
daughter.
Dallas
Evan says nothing about last night on
our way back to the studio. What’s worse is that she keeps talking,
yammering on about the most mundane shit ever—biology. The thing
is, Evan doesn’t yammer, so I can only assume that this is some
kind of coping mechanism to avoid awkward conversation.
I should have never “practiced” posing
with her last night. I got ahead of myself. Thing is, even if I
told Tricia, she would probably just brush it off, telling me that
doing things like that with Evan is just part of the job. That’s
why I have to be even more careful. Only I can hold myself
accountable.
Which is becoming harder to do. The
more she blabs on about this article she read on the internet about
mutating genes in kittens, the more I want to order her to pull the
car over, push her against the window, and shut her up with my
mouth.
My fantasies are getting out of
control.
Luckily, I don’t have to listen to any
more biology crap when we roll up to the studio. The cul-de-sac is
packed with cars. Evan opens the front door, and the place is
buzzing with people—models, makeup artists, writers, photographers.
Britain runs up to us, her eyes bright with excitement.
“ The numbers are
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