35. Sloane
Sloane
We spend the rest of the morning together before I head off, mainly because I want to hit a spin class in the afternoon, and slightly because there’s still a stupid neurotic part of my brain that’s worried they’ll see the real me and run a mile.
I’m actively working on my intrusive thoughts, but imposter syndrome is an insidious bitch.
Staying the night was surprisingly lovely, and neither of them seemed bothered by my morning-after messy hair or lack of red lip.
I congratulate myself on my progress even as I sweat my way through a class that makes my muscles scream.
They’re already a tad sore given the position Cole fucked me in last night.
And my God, what a night. Both of them surprised me last night. Group sex has always been my preference, but these two are finding new ways to bring me to ecstasy. Who knew they would make such a good – and such a creative – team?
Even the chocolate pudding for breakfast was a treat.
I’m smiling to myself as I arrive home after spin. Em looks up from the sofa as I unlock the door and she gives me a wide smile.
“Well, well, well,” she says, waggling her eyebrows at me. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“Hello to you too,” I reply, dumping my bag on the table and coming to join her on the sofa.
“Baby’s first sleepover?” She gives me a smug smile and I throw a cushion at her.
“Maybe,” I say, as primly as possible.
“So tell me again how we don’t all want uniform little relationships?” She bats her lashes at me and I groan. I deserve that one.
“You love this just a little too much,” I say, leaning my head back into the sofa.
“Did you have fun?”
“Yes.” I sit up a bit more and relent. “I had a really nice time. Turns out sleepovers are quite… lovely? Who knew.”
“Oh, I know, a whole night wrapped in the arms of two beautiful men – who’d want that?” she scoffs, grinning at me.
“Alright, alright. So much for taking it slow, though. I’m meeting Freddie’s mom tomorrow.”
Her eyes widen at that and she blinks. “Blimey, he works fast! What’s the plan?”
“Sunday roast at her house. I’ve got to take something with me, right?”
“Yeah, maybe a bottle of wine or some flowers? Ooh, or a nice candle? All safe bets.”
“I feel like I should make something.” My mind’s already been turning over ideas, but I’ve not landed on the right thing yet.
She raises a dubious brow. “ Make something? As in cook? You don’t cook.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t cook. But yes, I take your point. I thought I could take something quintessentially American with me.”
“Like what, high fructose corn syrup?”
“Rude. No, I’ll think about it.”
“Ok, love. But I think you’re making life harder for yourself when a nice bottle of wine goes a long way.”
“Yes, but a homemade something goes even farther.” I nod to myself. “That’s settled, then, I’ll make something and I’ll bring wine. She will have no choice but to love me.”
“Sloane, she’s going to love you anyway, no matter what you bring. Anything else is just a bonus.”
I blow her a kiss and pull out my phone. I need some Sunday roast inspiration and I need it fast.