by Emma Hart
“Whatever.” She laughed.
“Look,” Chloe said. “So he didn’t work out. It’s fine. We can find you someone else. Dom didn’t know you had a date, so as far as he’s concerned, we’re all still looking for someone.”
“Right,” Mellie carried on. “And, he didn’t stipulate when this stupid bet had to start by, so we have a ton of time. You went to meet Elliott, you sat through dinner, and you left. We were wrong.”
“Ugh.” Chloe dropped her head back. “I hate it when we’re wrong. I so thought he’d be hot enough now that you could forget all that stuff and just sleep with him. Your vagina has more morals than I thought.”
Oh, man, this was awkward.
“Well…” I paused.
They both jerked around. Chloe was holding an onion as if she was going to throw it at me, and Mellie had the knife pointed right in the direction of my chest.
“This is not at all threatening,” I drawled.
They dropped their…almost weapons.
“What was that “well?”” Chloe demanded.
“I know that “well.” I’ve heard that “well.”” Mellie turned off the stove and advanced toward me, Chloe on her heels. “Peyton, did you have sex with Elliott?”
“I, ah, um…” I pinched my finger and thumb together. “Little bit.”
“Little bit? You can’t have a little bit of sex with someone!” Chloe exclaimed. “Oh, my God!”
“I don’t have to justify myself to you! I’m a grown woman! You’re not my mom!” I ran backward and almost tripped over the coffee table as they wrestled me onto the sofa.
Chloe launched herself on top of me and stretched across the sofa so I couldn’t move. “Tell us!”
“No!”
Mellie grabbed two books off the shelf next to the TV and brandished them at me. “Tell us the truth or the books get it.”
My eyes widened.
“That’s right,” she continued, an evil glint in her eye. “You tell us the truth, or I’m putting these books back on the wrong shelves, and the sizes will be all mixed up!”
I whimpered.
She put the bigger book on the shelf with the smaller ones.
Oh, man.
“Hey,” Chloe said. “Be gentle. The books aren’t the ones being a dramatic, stubborn idiot.”
“Fine!” I squirmed. “Put the books back. You know I hate it when you do that.”
“Are you gonna tell us?” Mellie questioned.
“Yes.”
“Say it,” Chloe demanded. “Say the words right now.”
I took a deep breath. “I had hot dirty sex with Elliott, and I liked it!”
I clapped my hands over my mouth.
They both gasped.
Mellie dumped the books on the table, and Chloe climbed up off me. I shook out my arms and legs and sat up properly.
“I had sex with him,” I said again. “He wanted to know how the hell we ended up having dinner together, so I told him everything, and there you have it. He agreed to be the guy I sleep with since he agrees I’ll never fall in love with him, and that’s the end of it.”
“So, you came in here screaming and shouting about us picking him, only to tell us that you had sex with him anyway?” Mellie asked.
I paused. “Pretty much.”
“Hot, dirty sex that you liked?” Chloe continued.
“I don’t have to justify myself to you. And for God’s sake, let me put those books back!” I got up and grabbed the books from the table and put them back.
Thank God for that.
Nothing annoyed me more than mixed book sizes.
Or just disorganization in general.
“You hate him!” Mellie laughed. “Of course, you have to justify yourself. At the very least, you have to justify the bitch fit you just threw.”
“You had no right to pick him.”
“But you had a right to sleep with him?”
I held out my hands. “My vagina, my rules.”
Chloe stared at me for a second before she burst out laughing. “Okay, first, Mellie? Your sausage is burning.”
“Shit!”
“And, Peyton? Sit down, because we need to hear more about your—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
***
Unknown: Your friends really suck at privacy.
I blinked at the message notification on my phone screen.
It was five-fifteen in the morning. Who was the sadist texting me this slightly ominous message?
I sat up in bed and flicked the switch for the lamp on my nightstand. The room flooded with a dim, warm light, and I pulled the covers up over my waist as I propped myself up on my elbow to reply.
Me: Who the fuck are you and why are you texting me at this sadistic hour?
Unknown: It’s Elliott.
Of course, it was. I saved the number before I replied.
Me: How did you get my number?
Elliott: Chloe and Mellie are not good at protecting your privacy.
Me: Color me surprised. But that doesn’t answer the question of why you’re texting me at five in the morning.
Elliott: Couldn’t sleep.
Me: And you didn’t have anyone else to text?
Elliott: Not anyone I can text saying, “Hey, don’t you need more sex to stay on track with your bet?”
Me: I feel like we’re potentially entering into sexting, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Elliott: Does sexting count to your total?
Me: I’m gonna say no to be on the safe side.
Elliott: Damn it. In that case… Never mind.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Me: Never mind? Never mind what?
Me: You don’t get to wake me up at five a.m. and leave me hanging.
Elliott: If I tell you, you might kill me.
Me: Got plenty of reasons left in the bank from high school to kill you, buddy.
Elliott: You interrupted my sleep, and now I have a raging hard-on because I woke up too early.
Oh.
Ohhhh.
I fidgeted in the bed, clamping my legs together. Why was the idea of him having a dirty dream about me kinda hot? And why did I like it?
Goddamn it. Where was teenage Peyton and why wasn’t she reminding me of all the things I hate about him?
Me: That’s hardly my fault. I didn’t WANT to wander into your dreams.
Elliott: I thought I’d gotten rid of this problem after graduation.
Wait, what?
I sat upright, the covers now pooling around my stomach.
He dreamed about me in high school?
Me: You dreamed about me in high school?
Elliott: Me and half the other guys in our year.
Me: That’s why I stayed a virgin until after graduation. I wasn’t about to lose my virginity to some two-bit fuckboy who’d only ever made out with his right hand.
Elliott: And that’s the most accurate description of our graduating class I’ve ever heard.
Me: Did it cure your boner?
Elliott: No.
Elliott: Honestly, I’m a little torn.
Me: On what?
Elliott: Half my high school fantasies about you in senior year were you on your knees, and since that actually happened…
Me: I hated you throughout the entirety of that year.
Elliott: I know. But horny teenage boy > pissy teenage girl.
Me: Watch it, or I’ll come over there and slap your cock back to soft with a fly swatter.
Elliott: All I’m saying is that if you’re not averse to lying on your side and being fucked from behind, it can be arranged.
Oh, God. There was another squirm.
Elliott: Really hoping you aren’t against it, because I can’t stop thinking about lifting up your leg and playing with your clit while I fuck you.
I swallowed and clamped my legs together. No. I was not going to get turned on by his messages. Not at this time of the morning. Not ever.<
br />
Even if now I was the one who had that image in my head. Me on my side, him behind me, my hand holding my leg up while his sneaks between my legs to play with my clit…My back arching while he—
Fuck it.
There it was. My clit ached as a gentle flush of heat ran through my veins. I was turned on, and now I was screwed. I wouldn’t be able to get that idea out of my head. That picture would be with me until it happened.
Me: I’m not listening to this.
Elliott: You’re wet, aren’t you?
Yes.
Me: Even if I were, I wouldn’t tell you.
Elliott: I’ll see you later.
What?
Me: You will?
He didn’t reply.
And I was wide awake.
Awesome.
Chapter Seven – Peyton
Plot twist: masturbating to porn doesn’t stop you wanting to screw the guy you hate. That’s what they should have taught in sex ed classes.
Hot. Bothered. Frustrated.
Those three words all accurately summed up how I felt when I walked into my office at nine a.m. I was tired, and not even watching porn had managed to get rid of that ache I’d felt ever since that text from Elliott.
And, I didn’t care how desperate I was, I wasn’t going to masturbate over him.
Hell, I didn’t even want to text the guy.
Right now, I didn’t even want to see him. Given the fact it’d only been two days since what I was now referring to as Hook-Up One, it was too soon. I had two weeks, not four days.
There was no rush for round two.
No matter how much my hormones disagreed.
I dumped my purse on the floor next to my chair and sat down at my desk. My head was thumping, so as I fired up my computer, I dug around in the drawer for some painkillers. Two Tylenol were languishing in the back of the drawer, still in their little plastic packaging.
Who knew how long they’d been there?
Did painkillers have an expiry date?
Was my headache so bad that I would risk it?
Hmm.
Not quite ready to risk my life for relief, I pushed the strip to the side and logged into my PC. I’d shamelessly ignored my emails for the last twenty-four hours while catching up on some matches, and now, I was paying for it.
I was not okay with eight hundred emails in a day and a half.
This was why I drank a lot.
I pulled a bottle of Coke from my purse and loaded my email. The number blinked at me annoyingly, and I sighed before running my gaze over the never-ending unread list.
Submission. Submission. Submission.
Oh, man. That was a lot of dick pics.
Thankfully, they were all in the online portal, and these were just the notifications.
I made it through five pages of them before my office door opened. There was no knock, which meant it was one of two people: Chloe or Dom.
I hoped it was Chloe.
I looked up.
It wasn’t.
My brother grinned. “Hey, shithead.”
“What’s up, asshole?” I asked, deleting another page of notifications.
I really needed to switch that function off.
“Busy?” he asked, pulling the chair opposite my desk out and sitting down. “Whatcha doin’?”
“Working.” I glanced around the side of my desktop. “Clearing out my emails.”
“You really should turn off those email notifications.”
“Thanks for the idea, Einstein,” I muttered, deleting another page. “What do you want?”
Dom leaned back, linking his fingers behind his head. “What? Can’t a guy drop in on his favorite sister?”
“First,” I said, holding up a finger and finally giving him my full attention, “It’s not dropping in when your office is the other half of this building, and your apartment is right upstairs. Second, I’m your only sister, so am, by default, the favorite. Sadly.”
He waved his hand in dismissal. “All right, whatever. Chloe isn’t here yet, and I lost my key to the office.”
“You keep that on your house key.”
He just stared at me.
“Boy, I do not know how Mom ever allowed you to move out.”
“She got fed up with me losing her keys and decided I should lose my own instead.”
Responsible parenting at its finest.
I opened the other top drawer and unzipped a small pouch. Removing the shiny, silver key, I closed the drawer with a flick of my elbow, then slid the key across the top of my desk.
“There,” I said. “The spare. Bring it back as soon as you unlock your door.”
“It’s like you think I’ll lose it.” He grinned.
“I don’t think you will; I know you will.”
His grin only widened. “So. How’s the experiment coming along? Chloe said they’d found you someone.”
Clearly, I wasn’t going to be able to work in the immediate future.
“Yep. We had dinner,” I said evasively.
“Dinner? You had dinner?”
“What? You want me to sit here and detail every inch of the date with you?”
Dom dropped his hands and rested one arm on the arm of the chair. “Can I not ask?”
“About what? Him, the date, or the sex? ‘Cause I’m not gonna lie, I’m not into discussing the sex with you.”
“Him,” he said.
Did I tell him? Was I able to tell him? Was there a rule that said his name had to be disclosed? Or that I couldn’t know the guy before we had sex?
No. No, there was not.
I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my body. Then, I waited until my brother had shamelessly picked up my bottle of Coke and taken a mouthful before I said, “His name is Elliott Sloane.”
He choked on my drink, slamming the bottle down on the desk.
Man, that was satisfying.
Dom thumped his fist against his chest, coughing out the last of his shock. “Isn’t that the guy in your class who was quarterback?”
I hit him with a thunderous glance. “And the guy who stood me up junior prom.”
“Ah, shit, yeah!” He snapped his fingers. “Didn’t you blow him off after that, so he egged your car?”
I mumbled something into my hand.
“You did! Then, he told Todd Simpson not to go with you to homecoming because you were sick.”
“I was not sick!” I gasped and slammed my hand on the desk. “Elliott was a dick, and you know it!”
“Says the person sleeping with him.”
I held up one finger and leaned forward on the desk. “You never said he had to be a stranger. Chloe and Mellie picked him for me. I had no say in the matter.”
“I knew they shouldn’t have been given free reign on this. You already hate that guy—this is unfair.”
“You didn’t say it had to be a stranger.” I reached for the bottle of Coke and quickly changed my mind.
I’d shared baths with my brother as a kid—I didn’t want to share saliva as an adult.
“I dropped the ball there,” he muttered, picking up the Coke bottle I’d just discarded.
I was glad he was enjoying it.
I wasn’t. I wanted to punch him. The joys of siblings…
I held up my hands. “You never said, they took advantage, and I’m just here to prove you wrong. Don’t take it out on me.”
He made a non-committal grunting sound and took a long drink of my Coke. “I’m not happy about this.”
I got up with a raise of my eyebrows and went to the window to open the blinds. “I’m not happy about this, either, and I’m the one who has to have sex with a guy I hate. Suck it up.”
“Have you ever had sex with a guy you actually like?”
“Dom, I will come over there, and I will rip your head from your puny little—”
“Oh, give it a rest,” Chloe said, standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. “It’s too early for y
’all’s fighting.”
“She started it,” Dom muttered.
I walked past him to my desk and smacked him on the back of the head. He winced but refused to acknowledge it otherwise.
“I don’t care,” Chloe said, putting her purse at her feet so she could shrug off her leather jacket. “I woke up late and didn’t get coffee yet, so y’all quit your bitching before I make you.”
Ah. She was lovely before caffeine. Definitely the girl you’d take home to meet your mom.
“Then get your coffee,” Dom said to her, “Because we need to talk about that stunt you pulled.”
She paused. “What stunt?”
I sat in my chair and spun side to side, grinning.
Recognition dawned on her, making her jaw drop. “Ohhhh,” she said. “Elliott Sloane. Yeah, that was all Mellie.”
“No, it wasn’t.” I grinned even more. “It was both of you. Equal parts responsible for it.”
“I’m not—I didn’t…” She grabbed her purse and looked between us. “I don’t have to listen to this. I have work to do.”
“So do I. I have a meeting in ten minutes, so get out of my office.” I looked pointedly at my brother as I said that.
He held his hands up like leaving was a huge hardship and stood up. “You’re in a shit mood today.”
I stared at him. “You owe me a bottle of Coke.”
He looked at the bottle that had been mine, then shrugged and grabbed it. “I still owe you a candy bar from when you were eight, and you haven’t gotten that yet.”
“Get out,” I deadpanned. “Before I kill you.”
“Lord, give me strength,” Chloe breathed, shaking her head. She walked away from the office to hers across the hall. “Dom, have you even been in here yet?” she shouted.
“He lost his key again!” I yelled at her.
My brother raised a fist and shook it in the air. He looked torn between shouting at me or throwing something at me.
I was saved by my best friend walking back into my office.
“You lost it again?” she asked, staring at him. “I gave you two spares last time!”