Confessions Of A Chatterbox (Confessions Series Book 2)

by Abigail Davies

  I sat up straight at her serious tone. “Okay.”

  Mrs. Lang stared at me for a couple of seconds, and I cataloged every one of her features. She was the most put together woman I knew. Not a single hair was out of place, and the eyeliner on her hooded eyes was perfectly flicked. She exuded confidence from every pore. I wanted to be her when I grew up.

  “We’re adding extra business classes in September, but I told the dean that we needed something different and fresh. Something that was relatable in this day and age.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “That was part of the reason I asked you to give the talk. I wanted to see how you’d fare in front of a room full of students.”

  I frowned. “Right… And how did I fare?”

  “You did so well. Better than I could have imagined. Every single one of the students was listening to you, so that’s why this makes this even easier.” Her chest moved as she took a deep breath. “I want you to run a trial freelance business class.”

  I pointed at my chest. “Me? You want me to teach a class?” I snorted. “Are you sure you’re talking to the right person?”

  She placed her hand over mine, the cold of her palm seeping into my skin. “Yes, I’m sure. Your passion for your business shines through, and that’s exactly what the students need to see. They need you to show them what it’s like but not just the good things. They need to witness the amount of hard work and dedication it takes.”

  I stayed silent, not sure on what to say. This was only meant to be one talk, and then I’d head right on back to my life in New York, but now she was asking me if I wanted to stay. Did I want to stay? I wasn’t sure how it would work, but the thought of passing this up had a knot forming in my stomach.

  “When?” I croaked out. “When does it start?”

  “Well, I was thinking we could do a trial run after spring break to see how it goes? And then, if it does well, we can do the full year from September.” She glanced down at the silver watch adorning her wrist and stood. “I have to get back to my office but think about it and let me know. Take a few days to mull it over.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but she was gone before I got the chance. Did that really just happen? Had I been offered a teaching job at the college I attended a few years ago?

  Holy poopballs.

  I grinned at my thoughts and stood to order a coffee. This was the last thing I’d imagined happening today, but the excitement sprinting through my veins couldn’t be denied. The cashier handed me a paper cup full of the most obnoxious coffee known to man, and I wrapped my hands around it, letting the warmth seep into my palms. It was a staple in LA to have your coffee order as long as a four-hundred-page novel.

  I made my way out of the shop, intent on wandering around the campus. Everything seemed so much bigger now than it did when I went here. I wondered if it was actually larger or if it was just me who felt smaller.

  The bell rang over the door as I pushed it open and strolled out. I had a couple of hours to kill until I had to head to the airport to go back home, but I kind of wanted to stay here longer.

  I’d moved to New York when I graduated college on a whim and to get out of the state I’d grown up in. It was the change of pace that I’d needed, but I never planned on ending up where I was. I was living in an awesome apartment with my boyfriend, Chad, but it was all make-believe. It hadn’t bothered me one bit—and still didn’t—that I was essentially his beard. It was totally normal for a guy to be gay and have a pretend girlfriend, right?

  Okay, so it was the twenty-first century, and nobody would care if he came out of the closet, but there was more to it than that. His mom was sick, and not your “she’ll get better with treatment” kind of sick. But the “she’s only going to get worse” kind of sick. I totally understood that he didn’t want to worry her, and as his best friend, I supported him in everything he did. Apart from when he kept me up most of the night with his latest squeeze. The dude saw more action than Tom Cruise did in his movies.

  Halting in front of my tree, I stared at the EM initials carved into it above the initials VS. My cousin, Violet, had just moved to New York from LA last week. I loved having her in the same city, but being around her more made it difficult to hide the secrets I’d had to keep the last couple of years. I was a talker, and I knew if Vi were to ask me if something was going on, I wouldn’t be able to keep quiet. What made it even worse was that she was shacking up with Chad’s brother, Axel. We were meant to be one big happy family.

  The problem was that my vagina was distraught. She hadn’t seen any action for at least twelve months—okay, more like eighteen. Ugh—fine! Two years. I cringed at the thought and looked down. All I could do was apologize and try and do better. For her sake, not mine.

  I’d become a hermit, and although in that lecture hall I’d raved about how awesome it was to be freelance, I felt like all I was doing was working right now. I was the master of my own schedule, but when opportunities were being flung your way, you couldn’t say no, right?

  I stepped forward and extended my arm, stroking the pads of my fingers over the rough bark. Being here again was turning me into one of those women who sat at a bar all day long and reminisced about her one true love twenty years previous.

  Stepping back, I shook my head to expel the thoughts, and twirled around, right into someone’s chest. The scalding coffee splashed all over my shirt, and I squealed.

  “Ah! Fuck.” I jumped and threw the stupid cardboard cup onto the ground. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit! It burns. Oh fuck, it burns.” I pulled my top and tank away from my chest, needing to find some relief from the heat.

  “I-I-I’m sorry,” a rough voice stammered.

  I flapped my T-shirt, hoping to get a little wind in there to cool me even more and looked up. The brightest green eyes greeted me, but he wasn’t looking at me, he was looking at anything but me.

  He paced in front of me three feet and then spun and paced the three feet back. Anyone would have thought it was him that was burned by hot coffee.

  “I have napkins!” he announced, so loud that several heads turned to face us. He bent down, dropped his bag to the grassed area, and started to rifle through it.

  “You have napkins?” I asked as the heat from the coffee started to dissipate.

  “Yes.” He nodded his head like one of those nodding dogs taxi drivers had on their dashboards.

  I tilted my head to the side and stared at him. His light-brown hair was short at the sides and longer on top, causing it to fall over his eyes, but he didn’t move it. He let it shield him as he continued to search for the napkins.

  “Honestly, it’s fine.” I shook my T-shirt out a little more and laughed. “I can just—”

  “Found them!” He held the napkins up like a trophy and stood.

  My eyes widened as he split the stack of about twenty and came toward me, pushing them into my chest and nearly knocking me over in the process. I thought he was going to let go, but he didn’t. Instead, he continued to pat me down, focusing on my boobs. Was he in that lecture and saw the picture of one of them on display?

  “Dude, you—”

  “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. Dad told me that accidents happen all the time, but you weren’t looking where you were going, so it was technically your fault.”

  “My—what?” I frowned.

  “This is a busy walkway, and you have a hot beverage in your hand. You should be very careful while carrying a hot beverage.”

  I raised a brow and slammed my hands down on my hips. The actual gall of this guy. He spilled all my coffee over me and was groping my boobs like his life depended on it but was blaming me at the same time.

  What the hell?

  “Nice going, retard!” someone shouted, and I whipped my head around to the group of guys that were walking past us, all laughing and joking.

  “Excuse me?” My head reeled back, and I forgot all about the dude groping me and focused my attention on what appeared to be frat
guys who obviously thought they owned campus.

  “Ah, not you, beautiful. I was talking to him,” one of them said and tilted his head to the side, signaling Groper-Guy as he flashed me what I was sure was his trademark smirk. Ugh. “He’s a retard.”

  I flicked my gaze back to Groper-Guy where he’d stopped patting me down and was standing as still as he could with his head bowed, oh and with his hands still gripped onto my boobs, of course.

  “Are you just going to ignore them?” I asked, my voice low so only Groper-Guy could hear me.

  “Dad said to ignore the people who say bad words.”

  My heart beat harder in my chest as his green eyes met mine, and I heard it crack a little. It was the first time he'd met my gaze full-on, and there was something about the pain behind his eyes that pulled at me.

  “Why are they calling you that?”

  His throat bobbed as he swallowed and shook his head. “Because they’re mean.”

  “Well, if you’re not going to say anything…” I moved my focus to the group of guys and shouted, “And you’ve got tiny dick syndrome, but you don’t hear me shouting that…” I slapped my hand over my mouth in mock surprise. “Oops. Too late.”

  “Bitch,” he sneered as he started to walk away.

  “Pin dick!” I shouted, making sure I was loud enough so everyone could hear me.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Groper-Guy said, his voice holding a tinge of sadness.

  “Well, he’s a prick, I can’t help it. My prick-o-meter wouldn’t have let me not say anything.” I raised a brow and flicked my gaze over his straight nose and strong jaw. “And you shouldn’t be groping strangers’ boobs, but I didn’t say anything about that now, did I?”

  He blinked repeatedly as he glanced down and let go. “I-I didn’t mean—” He stepped back and nearly fell over his bag on the floor but saved himself at the last second.

  “It’s all good. They haven’t had much action lately, so it was kind of nice.” I smiled softly, but he looked like he was about to have a heart attack any second. “Hey, it’s okay.”

  He shook his head, his hair whipping him in the face in the process as he yanked his bag off the floor and pushed his arms through the straps. His chest moved up and down at a fast pace as I stepped forward, reaching my hand out to touch his arm, but when he glanced at me, I knew that wasn’t the right thing to do. He was in his own head, and nothing I did or said would have changed that.

  “Well…I gotta go.” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “Thanks for the grope though.” I winked, and I was sure I saw a quirk of his lips. “My name’s Ella, by the way.”

  “My name is Jeffery, but I like to be called JJ,” he whispered and spun around, practically running down the walkway and toward the main building of lecture halls.

  I glanced down at my T-shirt and smirked. I just got to second base with a total stranger, and I was totally okay with that.

  Chapter 2

  Confessions 34: Can I get un-graped flavoured grapes?

  “Honey, I’m home!”

  I dragged my carry-on through the threshold of our apartment and slammed the door closed behind me. I was one hundred percent sure of what I’d find when I looked up and to the left into the kitchen part of our open-plan apartment.

  I was gonna kill him.

  How freaking hard was it to clean the dishes off and load them into a dishwasher? Apparently really goddamn hard. Stupid heathen.

  There was no way I’d be able to wash the flight off me until all the dishes were cleaned and safely stored away.

  I sighed and moved toward the kitchen, pushing up my sleeves as I thought about Mrs. Lang and the job offer. Of course, she’d offered me a position. I was awesome delivering my little speech, and obviously, she saw something amazingly fantastic in me. I chuckled to myself and shook my head as the water hit one of the dishes and nearly took me out with its errant spray.

  I wasn’t so sure about teaching. I mean, I was brilliant, there was no escaping that, but it was just a few years ago that I’d attended the college myself. Not only that, but it would mean I’d have to move to LA for a few months, and even though I liked the idea of being in the constant sunshine, I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave the life I’d built here. Plus, Vi had just moved from LA to New York, and now I was considering going back there. The universe was obviously trying to wife swap us but without the husbands in tow.

  I transferred the dishes over to the dishwasher and stacked them in the right order, bigger ones at the back and getting smaller as you came to the front. I popped in a tablet and set it on to clean. That’s when I heard it: the unmistakable moan floating throughout the apartment. It wasn’t one of pain though. Oh no, it was quite the opposite. A satisfied sex-inducing kind of moan.

  How many times was he going to do this when he knew I’d be home? He couldn’t charm his way out of this one. We had rules for a reason, and I was dammed if I was going to let him get anyway with it yet again. Not after those dirty dishes he left for me.

  With a grin pulling at my lips, I walked out of the kitchen and moved through the small hallway that led out of the living room section. There were three doors in the hallway. One at the end that served as our bathroom and one on the left which was my room. The moan was coming from the one on the right—Chad’s bedroom.

  I gripped the doorknob and turned it, not bothering to look away as a perfect ass came into view. People always asked men what they preferred—boobs or ass. No one ever asked what kind of woman you were. I was definitely an ass woman.

  Two perfectly tanned mounds, tensing with each thrust were my view, and even though I’d caught Chad in the act—again—I couldn’t stop myself from bracing myself against the doorframe and admiring him for a couple seconds. Weird? Sure. But what was a girl to do when a perfect ass was in her face?

  Another moan ricocheted around the room, but this time the person underneath Chad opened his eyes. His bright-blue orbs captured mine and widened at the precise moment I lifted my hand in a wave, not bothering to move from my position.

  “Chad,” he muttered, his arms moving, most probably in preparation to push my boyfriend off him.

  “’Sup?” I asked, giving him one of my majorly cool chin lifts. I was sure I looked uber awesome doing it. It was a gift, what could I say?

  “El?” Chad’s deep timbre rang out. When he turned, and his eyes met mine, I saw a mixture of laughter and apprehension. “I’m so sorry, you weren’t meant to see.” He was already climbing off—or should I say out of the dude.

  The douche nozzle should be apprehensive because he was about to feel my wrath. If I were a super-villain-person-thingy, I’d probably have turned his hands into sponges so he had no choice but to clean his dishes every time he picked them up.

  He scrambled around until he found a pair of his sleep shorts all the while his latest squeeze was panicking and muttering curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry,” Latest-Squeeze-Dude rushed out. “I didn’t know he was...erm… Well, I didn’t—”

  “You promised you wouldn’t do this again,” I said, my voice small. I didn’t mean for the slight shake to come out, but I couldn’t help it. I felt utterly betrayed.

  “I know, baby girl, but I—”

  I held my hand up and cut him off. “Promise me it won’t happen again.”

  “It won’t,” Latest-Squeeze-Dude replied. “I had no idea about you—”

  I frowned at him. “Huh?”

  He pointed down at the bed. “It won’t happen again. We promise.”

  Chad started to chuckle as he moved toward me, trying to pull me into his sweaty chest.

  “Back the hell up. I don’t want your sweaty sex germs.” I turned to face the guy who was ten shades of white. “Don’t sweat it, dude. He’s my non-sex-boyfriend. I’m talking about the dirty dishes left in the sink.”

  “Your…non-sex-boyfriend?”

  “Yep.” I nodded and spun around. “I hope you used protection, guys. STIs are r
ife at the moment.”

  “What’s a non-sex-boyfriend?” I heard the guy ask, and I couldn’t help but crack a smile as I walked away.

  I’d told my cousin, Vi, that I’d found “the one” a while back. And I’d been right. Who said that to find your one you both had to be straight and want to bone each other all the time? I was never one to believe in doing things the traditional way, and when I met Chad, I knew he was my soulmate. There was a deeper connection there than just being best friends. So he became my non-sex-boyfriend, and I became his non-sex-girlfriend. Oh! And also his beard on the account that none of his family were aware that he was gay...and a drag queen.

  It was a win-win for everyone if you didn’t count my vagina. So long as this apartment was kept clean without dirty goddamn dishes!

  “El?”

  I groaned and rolled over. My face squished into something soft, and when I squinted my right eye open, I saw the gray sofa cushion.

  “I’ve got you some breakfast, baby girl,” Chad said, his voice soft. He probably wanted to make up for the whole dirty-dishes-sex-in-the-apartment situation. And so he should. The giraffe face should have known better.

  The sofa dipped behind me, and seconds later I felt Chad’s chest against my side as he dug his stupidly boney chin into my shoulder. “Come on, sleepy head, it’s almost noon.”

  I closed my eye, waving my hand in the air at him to go away. I didn’t want to move, I had jet lag, and all I wanted to do was stay on this comfy sofa all day and do nothing but sleep, and possibly eat a burrito or seven in between.

  “Go away. I’m busy.”

  “Uh-huh.” His large hand covered my ribs, and he squeezed. “You have to the count of three.”

  “Don’t you dare count me down, you shithead.”

  His chest rumbled as he laughed and choked out, “One.”

  Oh no he didn’t.