53. Chapter 51
Emery
I made a mistake. This exact same thing worked so well last time.
But, noooo, not this time.
What the hell have I done?
Volunteering my place for study group was supposed to make it convenient for me. But it is the total opposite.
There are only a few minutes left of our allotted hour together, but not a single one of them has started packing up. No. They are all super fucking settled in.
The humming under my skin that started this morning hasn’t gone away. I feel like I could peel it off with a rusty blade at this point. And now I have people in my space, and I just want them to be gone.
I can’t even get Oakley to get rid of them for me, because she went to a musical or some shit with a sugar daddy and won’t be back until close to midnight.
Which means I need to pull up my big-girl panties and ask these people to leave.
Including Will, who I think has plans to hang around after everyone else leaves. The messages he has been sending me today have been so incredibly sweet, and if I was the kind of girl who believed in college sweethearts and happily ever afters, I would have been creaming my panties.
Instead, I’m this fucked-up version of femininity and will absolutely get sick if he says one more kind and supportive thing to me. Or drapes his arm across the back of the couch so he can touch my shoulder again. Or offers to get me a drink from my own damn kitchen. Again.
Urgh.
Fuck.
Why am I like this?
There is so much pent-up energy inside of me right now, I feel like I’m going to explode.
I need off this couch ASAP.
I shove up to standing and shoot Will an apologetic smile, holding my phone up between us, not even sorry about the white lie I’m about to tell. “Oakley is calling me, I’ll be right back.”
Ducking into my bedroom, I quickly shoot off a text to her.
Me: SOS. How do I make them leave?
Her message comes through pretty quickly, so clearly whatever she is watching must be boring as fuck.
Oakley: Your study group?
Me: No, the unicorn marching band. Yes, the fucking study group.
Oakley: Firstly, rude. But I’m going to forgive you because you’ve been through a lot. And secondly, just ask them to leave.
Me: Fuck. Sorry. I’m just jittery. Feel like I need to go for a run or some shit.
Me: Yes, but how do I ask them to leave? Pretty sure screaming, “get the fuck out” is probably not a good idea, right?
Oakley: *rolling laughing emoji* Yeah, don’t do that. Blame it on your accident.
Oakley: Hey, guys, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’ve started to get another headache. Same time next week?
Me: That will actually work?
Oakley: People typically fall on the polite side and pick up the social cues. But if someone doesn’t, really play up the headache, head to your room, and ask them to see themselves out.
Me: I could kiss you!
Oakley: Sorry, bestie, you’re not my type.
Oakley: But also, are you okay? Why are you jittery?
Me: I don’t know. I just feel like I could crawl out of my skin.
Oakley: Maybe you need to burn off the excess energy, like you said? Do you actually run??
Oakley: Side note, I do not run. Running is filed under ewwwwww.
I snort a laugh. Me, run? Ha. I don’t think I even own a pair of running shoes.
Me: No. Absolutely not.
Oakley: Hmmm, well, you need to find a way to burn it off. Maybe give that purple dick a go *wink emoji*
My mouth falls open at her suggestion.
Me: Oakley Claire Sanders, you filthy, filthy girl.
Oakley: My name is Oakley Anora Davis, you dork.
Oakley: Stop procrastinating. Go kick the people out and then vibe your brains out. Just be done by the time I get home or you are going to pay for my therapy.
Oakley: *Kiss emoji*
I can’t help laughing as I shake my head, pocketing my phone. My gaze lands on the box that contains the purple dick, sitting threateningly on my desk.
Could I really do that? Just…give myself an orgasm? I’ve never done it solo. I mean, besides the Sybian, but that wasn’t really solo. I had watchers then, and it was as much for their pleasure as it was mine. But alone, alone? The idea makes me feel a little weird.
Then a thought occurs to me—I don’t need to do it alone. I have someone who loves to watch me. I’m sure they will love to watch this too.
But first things first, I need to get all these people to leave.