Chapter 8
8
I t takes me less than 24 hours to cave and text. Blair, not Declan. I can’t bring myself to even think about his offer yet because something in me says that I need her expert opinion before I jump into anything.
As soon as the sun sets, I press send on the message I spent the last forty-five minutes writing and rewriting. My first attempt was a rambling diatribe on how I was upset she didn’t say anything at the club, how it’s unfair that Mona got her help but I have to fend for myself, and how I need her to be the kink Yoda to my Luke. The second was an overshare about how I’m worried that I won’t be enough for Declan and how I’m scared I’ll never have good sex, and how I don’t even know if there’s any point in me trying kink because it’ll probably be disappointing.
After all that nonsense, I settle on something simple and vague.
Grace: I need your help.
I set my phone down and go back to unloading the dishwasher. Today has been a blessedly low-pain day, which means I’m doing all the stuff around the house that I’ve neglected. I have enough unproductive pain days that there’s no such thing as a lazy Sunday if I’m feeling okay.
I almost drop the plate in my hand as my phone buzzes against the counter, and I scramble to set it down in the cabinet. In my hurry to see if Blair replied, I smack my shin into the edge of the dishwasher that’s sticking out and curse.
Standing on one foot as I rub the spot I hit, I pick up my phone and check it.
Blair: I’ll be right there.
Wait, what?
I hastily text back a reply to stop her before she gets in her car. So much for my attempt at starting a casual conversation.
Grace: No, no, I’m okay! I just didn’t get to talk to you last night and I have some questions.
Grace: Sorry, that was a bad way of wording it. Didn’t mean to worry you. You’re probably busy getting ready for work, so we can talk later.
Blair: Ah.
A minute passes and there’s no other reply. No prompting for what my questions are, or sign that she’s willing to answer. Not even a confirmation that she’s too busy to talk.
I go back to putting my dishes away, grumbling to myself about how it’s rude to not say anything back and it would be better for her to just tell me she doesn’t want to be friends so I can stop getting my feelings hurt when I try to talk to her. There’s no way I’m messaging again. If she doesn’t say anything else, I’ll take it as a message that I should leave her alone.
I stew in my hurt feelings for the five minutes it takes to get another text, but they vanish when I read the message.
Blair: Sorry, I was canceling my session tonight so we could talk.
Grace: You didn’t have to do that! It can wait.
Blair: It’s fine. I could use a night off.
Blair: Ask away.
Blair’s ability to make a decision quickly and stick with it boggles my mind. I could only dream of being that decisive. No, I struggle for a good thirty seconds to decide what to ask first.
Grace: Thanks, I really appreciate it. I’m kinda freaking out.
Grace: I met a dom last night. Which you already know. You were there. Duh.
Grace: Anyway, he talked to me about some things and I feel like I’m in way over my head. It would mean so much to me to get your professional opinion.
Blair: Did he make you uncomfortable ?
Ugh, Blair is hard to read in person with her stoic demeanor, but impossible to read over text. There’s no telling if that’s a casual question or if she’s being protective and about to go full vampire on Declan’s ass for potentially bothering me. What’s wrong with me that I’d like to imagine it’s the latter?
Grace: No! He was a gentleman. It was a little weird how un-pervy he was, to be honest. He said one thing that was suggestive, but that was after I flirted a bunch.
I’m not sure how much detail she wants or needs, so I leave it at that.
Blair: So what’s causing concern?
My thumbs hover over my phone. I’d spent so much time worrying about getting Blair’s opinion that I didn’t stop to consider what I actually want advice on. Declan’s explanation of how things work with him was clear. He’d be happy to answer more questions, I’m sure.
Despite my earlier message drafts, there’s no way I’m actually telling Blair about my worries about not being good in bed. That’s way too pathetic to admit. Blair would never give a shit about what a man thought of her prowess—she’d demand that they give her what she needs.
Everyone assumes I’m the same way. I’m outgoing and confident, and I work hard to project an image that’s fun and sexy. Someone like me should be amazing in bed. Appearances are deceiving in many ways when it comes to me.
Grace: He’s very experienced. It makes me nervous.
Blair: An experienced dom is what you need, if you want to explore submission.
Grace: I know.
Blair: What’s really the problem?
Shit. What am I supposed to say? I wanted your opinion and I don’t know why. I was pissed you didn’t seem to care at all last night about me trying this out when you helped Mona.
Grace: I just wanted to know your thoughts. Find out if it’s a good idea or not.
Blair: You don’t need my permission, and I can’t make this decision for you.
Blair: I’m not your domme.
Grace: Yes, but you’re my friend! And you helped Mona.
Grace: Please, I need an objective opinion that’s not influenced by horniness.
There’s a long pause before Blair replies. Crap, I shouldn’t have whined about this. I should’ve figured it out on my own. I’m embarrassing myself with how needy I’m being.
Blair: I can’t be objective about this.
My stomach clenches. I don’t understand.
Grace: Why not?
Another long pause.
Blair: Declan is a good dom. One of the best in the area. If you want to experiment, he’ll take care of you.
It doesn’t escape my notice that she gave her opinion to avoid answering my question. But it’s what I wanted from this conversation, right? Declan has her seal of approval.
Grace: Okay. Great. I guess I’ll text him then.
Grace: Thanks for your help.
Blair: That’s what friends are for, right?
Somehow, that feels like a genuine question rather than a trite statement.
Grace: Yeah. That and bitching about things.
Grace: Speaking of which, we should hang out sometime if you’re free. It’d be nice to catch up.
Blair: I’m booked every night this week.
Right. I don’t know why I expected a different response. That’s the last time I ask. If she wants to be my friend, she has to put in some effort too.
I’m about to set the phone down and find something to distract myself from the sting of rejection when I get another text.
Blair: I can do a week from today.
Grace: That sounds perfect. My place?
Blair: Yeah. I’ll bring that candy you like.
Grace: Hell yeah!
Grace: I’d offer to get your favorite snack, but I’m not sure where to get blood.
Grace: Unless you want some of mine.
Jesus, way to make things weird. My face heats as I conjure an image of Blair calmly brushing my hair to the side with her elegant fingers, and pressing her lips to my throat for a brief moment before sinking her fangs into my neck.
Grace: Kidding!
Am I? It should be scary to think about Blair biting me, but instead it makes me shiver with interest. Weird. Didn’t know I was into the whole vampire thing.
Blair: Right.
I need to change the subject before I make things even more awkward than I thought possible.
Grace: So, now that you have a night off, what are you going to do?
Blair: Not sure. What do you suggest?
I guess I must secretly love getting turned down by Blair, because I immediately seize the opportunity to ask her to do something, knowing she’s free.
Grace: If you’re not sick of me, we could go get a drink at Nightlight.
Blair: I’m not sick of you.
Blair: It’s not too late for you? Don’t you have work tomorrow?
I do. I really should stay home instead of going out for a drink.
Grace: I don’t go to bed at 9pm. I can hang out for a while.
Sure, I’m in my pajamas, but that’s because I didn’t bother getting dressed today.
Blair: If you’re sure.
Grace: I am! See you there in a half hour?
That’s enough time for me to make myself vaguely presentable.
Blair: Okay.
Look at me. Going out two nights in a row. It’s almost like I’m back to my old self. Maybe things are turning around for me.