Chapter 29
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
MAISIE
I grab my favorite pair of sandals out of my closet, hopping on one foot to get each of them on just as the doorbell rings.
I’m practically giddy with excitement.
Mostly over the fact that it’s girls’ day, and I get an entire uninterrupted day with my best friend doing whatever we want.
But also because I’ve been holding out on Lennon.
Only because we haven’t seen each other in the three days that have passed since Wilder came over and we had our proverbial “fuck it” moment, and there was absolutely no freaking way that I was missing out on seeing Len’s face when I told her everything.
What happened was literally doing it for the plot, and she’s going to die when hears about it.
“Coming!” I call as I walk through my apartment, stopping to pet Sebastian as he lounges on the windowsill of my living room, tail swishing happily as I scratch his favorite spot.
I open the front door and squeal when Lennon bounds forward, throwing her arms around me.
For a second, I sink into the comfort of my best friend, how she always feels like home, and it hits me just how much I miss having her here all the time.
“Mais! I’m so excited for today.”
When she pulls back, her jade eyes are dancing with excitement, shining brightly to match her smile.
“Me too. I feel like I’ve been counting down the days, even though it’s literally only been like three days since my birthday.”
Three days of pure torture by not calling her and spilling my freaking guts.
Obviously, we’ve talked since then. She checked in after that night, and I reassured her everything was good, but I’ve been purposely holding out so I could tell her in person.
She follows me inside, and I shut the door behind her. It’s barely closed when I’m whipping around. “IgotthebestorgasmofmylifefromWilder.”
The words swoosh out of me, all in a single breath.
Lennon’s mouth falls open, and she screams, literally screams. “Oh my God! Tell me everything right now!”
And I do.
I tell her every single detail, most of which would probably be TMI for anyone else, but not Len.
Not us.
We haven’t even made it out of my apartment an hour later, both of us lying flat on the living room floor, shoulder to shoulder, giggling.
I realize it’s probably a little juvenile, acting this way, but honestly? I don’t care.
This is the first time I’ve ever been like this about anyone. It’s my first hookup, the first time I’ve done anything, really, and I want to share it with the girl who knows me better than I know myself.
I want to share it with the girl who knows exactly the type of self-transformation I’m going through right now. She knows from her own experience how good it feels to finally feel like you’re coming into the person that you are.
No one understands that like Lennon.
“I can’t believe you’re hooking up with a hockey coach. An old hockey coach, Mais.”
My mouth falls open. “You bitch, he is not old, my God. He’s like thirty-something.”
“Yeah, and you’re like twenty-something,” she teases, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Literally living out an age gap romance right now.”
I chew the inside corner of my lip to bite back a smile.
I totally freaking am, and God, it’s… amazing.
I mean, obviously, we’re just casually hooking up and doing it in secret, but that honestly just makes it hotter. There’s something kind of thrilling about secret rendezvous.
“It’s just fun. And hopefully, we’re going to be having lots more fun soon, which means I need to make a stop on our girls’ day because I had an idea,” I say as I sit up from the floor and offer her my hand.
“Where to?”
“First? Shopping.”
Lennon’s mouth curves into a bright smile. “Wouldn’t you know. My specialty.”
An hour later, we’re at one of my favorite shops in the French Quarter, one that I’ve shopped at since high school, which has a ton of handmade pieces, both new and thrifted.
I’ve bought so much from this shop since I discovered it. Some of my favorite crochet tops, beaded skirts. Once, I even found this vintage denim jacket here that the owner, Mariella, swears was once worn by Stevie Nicks.
But the one thing I’ve never purchased from my beloved Mariella?
That’s what I’m here shopping for today.
“Holy shit, Mais. Your tits look amazing,” Lennon says, her eyes nearly bugging out of her head. She’s sitting crisscrossed on the bloodred velvet settee, watching me try on the tiniest pieces of fabric I have literally ever seen.
A girl has sex once, and suddenly, she has to buy lingerie fit for supermodels.
That girl is me.
“I don’t know, Len. I feel ridiculous in this,” I say, my eyes dragging over the pastel blue baby doll. The cups are lace and completely see-through, so my nipples are on full display. The sheer fabric is loose around my stomach, but the matching lace panties tie it all together.
“Girl, you’re actually insane.” She balks, scoffing loudly, “Look at yourself. The man is going to swallow his tongue. I swear, I’m fully convinced that you can wear anything, and it looks like it was made for you.”
“Says you,” I laugh.
“I guess our men are just incredibly lucky. We should remind them of that on the daily.” Her grin is infectious, and I can’t help but smile alongside her.
I end up putting the one I was on the fence about and like four others in the yes pile, all because of Lennon’s insistence, and honestly? I’m glad that I do.
Each of the pieces makes me feel sexy and confident.
I stare into the floor-length mirror, my eyes moving over the last of the outfits, a pale pink teddy that’s sheer and has a lace-covered bra, and I grin at my reflection.
It’s in this moment that I realize that I don’t… even recognize myself.
Physically, yes, but in the sense of… this version of myself.
The girl who’s hooking up with a man who’s more than a decade older than her, a coach who is strictly forbidden.
I’m trying on freaking lingerie to wear for a man because I’ve always wanted to.
The old Maisie could never.
But the new Maisie? This woman that I feel like I’m unearthing and stepping into all at once?
She’s a force. A part of me that I’m so proud of myself for being brave enough to seek out.
Pulling out my phone, I text Wilder before I lose the courage.
Maisie: Hey Coach.
Delete delete delete.
Maisie: So… about the other day…
Delete delete delete.
I blow out a sigh, tugging the corner of my lip between my teeth.
It’s just a freaking text message. The man literally had his fingers inside of you three days ago. This? Is nothing.
My thumbs tap at the screen once more.
Maisie: Busy tonight?
God, that sounds so stupid. The freaking smiley face?
He’s going to think I’m so childish. But it’s too late. I pressed Send, and it’s not like I can unsend it because then it looks even weirder.
My phone vibrates in my hand, and my eyes dart back to the screen, stomach flipping when I see that he’s already responded.
Holy shit. Already?
Coach: Are we texting each other now?
Maisie: Well, you finger fucked me like three days ago, so I thought texting was the next step.
I giggle, watching as the dots on the screen dance, then disappear, only to pick back up a few seconds later.
Coach: You and that mouth. What did I tell you about it?
Maisie: Hm. can’t remember. You’ll have to remind me next time I see you.
Maisie: Speaking of… Answer my question.
Maisie: Pls
Coach: I’ve got game material to review.
I chew my lip, an idea suddenly flitting through my head, one that is slightly reckless but so freaking exhilarating.
Before I can think twice, I hold my phone above my head, angling it just so I can snap a photo of a small sliver of what I’m wearing, and I attach it to the message.
Maisie: Sounds boring. I guess you’re too busy to see what I bought today then.
PHOTO ATTACHMENT
Coach: Fucking hell. What the fuck is this, Maisie?
I can imagine him raking a hand through his dark hair, running it down his face, gripping the edge of his desk, and I giggle.
Maisie:
Maisie: Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight and you can see for yourself.
Maisie: & remind me again what you said you were going to do with my mouth. I think I’m going to need a very thorough reminder, Coach.
Coach: You’re going to fucking kill me.
Maisie: See you at 6.