28. Dee
Chapter twenty-eight
Dee
“Harder. Deeper. Faster. Come on, ladies, I want to see you shaking,” the fitness instructor calls from the front of the room.
“Hot damn,” I mumble. “I don’t think I’ve ever been hit on this many times in an hour.”
“She’s not hitting on you.” Bec laughs. “She’s telling you to stop half-assing this workout.”
“Hey, I’m full-assing this workout, thank you very little.” My rebuttal loses all its merit as I collapse onto my mat, my muscles unable to hold out any longer.
Good thing we’re in the back of the room for this workout class. I don’t want the instructor to attempt to motivate me back into the exercise. I can’t keep a straight face with her narration.
“Okay,” she says, clapping her hands together. “Time to grab everyone’s favorite toy. Booties up. Put it at the base of your spine.”
I can’t control my giggling.
“She’s talking about the exercise ball, Dee,” Abby says, laughing along with me.
“Sure, she is. Everyone’s favorite toy, my ass.”
“Tuck that pelvis. Now, pulse. Pulse. Pulse. To the beat. Squeeze those cheeks, ladies. Feel it burn.”
“If anything starts burning, I’m out of here,” I whisper.
“Dylan’s maturity, or lack thereof, is wearing off on you,” Ellie states from the other side of Bec.
“Hey, I was funny before I lived with him,” I say defensively.
“I say immature, and you hear funny.” Ellie struggles to muffle her laughter.
“Uh, yeah. Your point? They’re synonymous in our household.
” I finally put my not-so-favorite toy—the fucking exercise ball—at the base of my spine like the rest of the girls and pulse.
Images of last night filter through my mind, and I smile thinking of Dylan groaning just on the other side of his door.
“Speaking of favorite toys…I need a new vibrator. Anyone have any affordable recommendations for a girl on a budget?”
“What happened to your arsenal of…accessories? Why do you need a new one?” Carissa asks.
“Old reliable didn’t show up for me last night. And the stakes have never been higher. I need someone I can count on.”
“I’m almost scared to ask,” Bec says, dropping her head to the floor.
“I mean, if you can’t count on your vibrator to get you off when you’re trying to prove a point to your roommate in a masturbation standoff, then clearly you can’t count on it for anything.”
All four of my friends stop pulsing, their bodies stilling, leaving me as the last one standing in this goddamn bridge position, squeezing my glutes to the point of pain, thrusting into nothingness. Kinda like last night.
“Come again?” Abby asks.
“I’m trying to, trust me,” I say, exasperated. “But I need a new teammate.”
“It sounds like you had one. I mean, two,” Carissa says. I hold up my hand and she rewards me with a high five.
“I’m proud of you. That was good,” I say.
“You’re rubbing off on me,” she replies.
“No, she’s apparently rubbing one off with Dylan,” Abby chimes in.
“You make it sound weird.”
“Uh, yeah, because it’s weird,” Bec adds.
“It was a competition,” I explain.
“A competition. What exactly did you get if you won?” Carissa asks.
I turn to look at her, a devilish grin on my face. “Oh, everyone was a winner.”
“So, what? You and Dylan got off in front of each other?” Ellie asks.
“There was a door between us. It was platonic.”
“That’s not platonic. Like…at all,” Abby insists.
“And today, you acted normal? Nothing was strained?” The disbelief is loaded on pretty thick. Ellie is sitting up now, studying me.
“We were both perfectly relaxed. Probably because of the orgasms.”
“Wait. Are you having sex with him?” Bec asks, sitting up as well.
“Pssh. No. This was just friendly competition. Consider it roommate bonding time.” I shrug.
“Weren’t you two on dates last night? With the people you set each other up with?” Carissa asks.
“Yeah, that sure as fuck didn’t work out. Major bummer. I apparently hooked him up with a hottie who was extremely emotionally unavailable and hung up on her ex. Like I said, we should have gone with the lawyer. My date was awesome, until Dylan fucked it up.”
“How exactly did Dylan fuck it up?” It’s clear Abby doesn’t trust my judgment, but it was definitely not me who ruined things with Stephanie.
“He basically told my date I was exploding out of my ass in the bathroom.”
They all have a good laugh at my expense. Fair enough. If the tables were turned, I’d do the same.
“Uh-oh,” Bec singsongs.
“Uh-oh, what? Why do you sound so happy?” I ask, no small amount of frustration leaking into my tone.
“Because we were right,” Abby gloats.
“He was jealous,” Carissa adds.
“He likes you. Couldn’t stand to see you hit it off with someone else,” Ellie says, mystified by this turn of events.
“And you liked his jealousy, which is why you turned the moment into some sort of sexcapades, Survivor-style challenge.”
“We’re just competitive people,” I defend weakly. Fuck. That sounds like something I’d do…
“Competitive naked people,” Abby says.
“Who live together,” Carissa tacks on.
“And meet each other’s families.” Ellie is fucking giddy.
“Who told you that?” I ask.
“Dylan told Dom. Dom told me.” She shrugs. Dom is just like Emi. Can’t keep a secret to save his life. Unfortunate for him. Next time Dylan hosts the guys, I’m killing his character every chance I get. Well, probably not since I suck at that game, but I’m sure as fuck going to try.
“He met your family?” Carissa asks.
“He came to Nana’s birthday party.”
I can feel their collective stare, and I sit up, grabbing my water bottle as the instructor begins to lead us through a series of cooldown stretches. “What?”
“He went to your grandmother’s birthday party, and you don’t think he’s into you?” Bec asks, voice turning serious.
“Nana’s a damn good time and you know it.”
Bec laughs, shaking her head. “She’s you…in sixty years. Of course she’s a damn good time. But that doesn’t mean Dylan should be interested in going with you. Not unless he’s interested in you.”
“Love has made you loopy,” I say adoringly as I pat the top of her head. “I’m glad that Aiden is taking care of your heart, but I am a viper. A lone wolf. A…goat. Anyone gets too close, and I’ll bite. Or headbutt. Or kick their knees out from under them.”
“Yeah. Sounds like Dylan really felt your wrath last night,” Abby says.
“Sarcasm detected,” I reply.
“Sarcasm confirmed. Don’t be dense. You’re into him. Admit it.” The smile on Abby’s face says it all. She wants me to admit she was right.
I shrug. “I can’t help that there’s sexual tension between two sexual people when forced to share nine hundred square feet. But really? This changes nothing. We were just fucking around. The whole thing was an unserious joke.”
I think.
Did I lose hours of sleep tossing and turning, overthinking every second of last night? Maybe. Am I admitting that to my friends? Absolutely fucking not.
I’ve arrived at the very reasonable conclusion that we are both so delirious from our sex drought that we were overcome with the overwhelming need for both sex and company, and we just happen to combine the two.
Like two people bowling strikes next to each other, but in different lanes.
See? Totally platonic when you think of it that way.
“Did you see his dick?” Abby asks.
“It tried to wave at me, but Dylan got all shy and put it in time-out before I could get a good look.”
“But you looked…” Abby says, letting the implication linger in the air.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” I defend. “He was still in his denim prison.”
“Whatever you say, Dee. Should we redo the over-under bet?” Abby asks.
“For what?”
“When you’ll both cave and turn your apartment into your sex lair.”
“I’ve always wanted one of those,” I say longingly.
“I’ve got the under,” Carissa says, shocking me.
“Yee of little faith, friend.”
She laughs. “I have faith that everything will work out exactly the way it’s meant to.”
“Orgasms for everyone?” I ask, unwilling to focus on the bigger implications.
“Sure, Dee. Whatever you say.”
We finish our workout and grab some lunch afterward. The girls help me find a new vibrator, which better deliver on the promises the manufacturer made online despite the budget-friendly price.
Next time I go to battle, I’ll be prepared.
Problem is, every time I imagine using one of my toys, Dylan’s face always appears too. Especially two days later, when he walks into our apartment holding the package. I shriek, ripping it from his arms and running into my room, slamming the door behind me.
I definitely don’t immediately clean the toy, jump into the shower, and get off twice with Dylan’s perfect face in my mind. Definitely not.