21. Acts Of Stupidity
Acts Of Stupidity
Natalia
Iwake up smiling despite the headache that's pounding against my temples. It's a ridiculous, face-hurting grin.
I’m curled on my side with half the duvet twisted between my legs, my hair stuck to my cheek, and my entire body feels loose in a way that makes me confused until I remember, working through my hungover haze—
Oh, right.
Kiri.
The smile gets worse. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, letting the memories return in slow, warm pieces.
His mouth on mine, his voice in my ear. The heavy weight of his arm around me while he held me against his chest. The way he kissed my neck like he had nowhere else to be.
Like there wasn’t a whole tour moving around us, a dozen people waiting to tell us what a terrible idea this was, or a single reason in the world he should stop.
The way he felt against me. Every hard line of him, every tense muscle.
He might try and deny it, but the proof of how badly he wanted me pressed against my body wasn’t difficult to understand at all.
A shiver slips through me and I drag the duvet over my face.
He wanted me, he admitted it. Kiri Chhim, patron saint of glaring, avoidance, and making every emotion sound like an inconvenience, had been completely wrecked over me.
My thighs press together beneath the blanket at the memory.
I roll over, bury my face in the pillow, and kick my feet against the mattress like a teenager who’s just been kissed for the first time.
It was better than a kiss.
A lot better.
His hand moving with me. His mouth against my temple. The quiet rasp of his voice telling me he wanted to hear me while my entire body—
My eyes fly open.
The rest of the memory arrives all at once.
You're driving me crazy.
My body goes rigid. I lift my head slowly from the pillow, because with this hangover, moving quickly will only make it worse.
I’m trying to come.
“Oh my God!”
I slam my face back down. A scream leaves me, mostly muffled by the pillow but still loud enough that I immediately freeze and listen for movement in the hall.
This level of humiliation is best experienced privately before nine in the morning.
I roll onto my back again and cover my face with both hands.
I said that.
Out loud.
To him, while he was touching me. I said it with irritation, too, like he’d inconvenienced me by briefly slowing down instead of continuing to give me the best orgasm of my entire life. Who the fuck was that woman?
I don’t talk like that during anything...
sexual. I can tell a stranger online exactly where they can shove their opinion.
I can flirt with an entire room watching or make a grown man regret speaking to me with one sentence and a smile.
But the second clothes start coming off, my vocabulary packs a bag and leaves the country.
I'm always worried about whether I sound stupid, whether I’m being too much or if the noises I make are attractive or embarrassing.
With Kiri, I hadn’t thought about any of it. Nothing stayed inside, not my moans, his name or the embarrassing way I was practically begging him for everything. I couldn't even keep the extremely clear status update about what I wanted him to do, to myself.
I pull the blanket over my head, praying the world will swallow me whole and I don't have to face anyone for the next four days.
“I bit him. Shit.”
The words sound even worse spoken aloud.
Maybe that part was justified.
No, it wasn’t. I'm not an animal.
Except I am, because one minute he was teasing me and the next I had my teeth in him while his hand was between my legs.
I groan so dramatically the mattress probably thinks I'm dying. The worst part is that remembering it makes heat bloom through me all over again. The Khmer that escaped him, the laugh in his chest.
This is bad.
This is so fucking bad.
I glance over and acknowledge for the first time that the other side of the bed is empty. Kiri leaving before anyone saw him was sensible.
We’re in a hotel full of people that would have a heart attack if they knew what happened. Leaving was the responsible thing to do. Exactly the kind of thing he would do after spending the entire night with his fingers inside me while I tried to climb him like a tree.
My stomach twists.
Does he regret it?
Maybe he’s already congratulating himself on successfully avoiding sleeping with the emotionally compromised blonde who threw herself at him. What if he's making coffee and constructing a speech about boundaries? Will he act like nothing happened? No. He can’t do that. Can he?
Of course he can.
Men have performed far more impressive acts of stupidity.
He could give me the best orgasm of my life and then ghost me in broad daylight while staying on the same hotel floor.
We still have days left before we go home.
Days of tour buses, backstage rooms, group dinners, and pretending we don’t notice each other from opposite sides of every room.
I reach for my phone on the bedside table.
Nothing from him. I sigh as annoyance washes over me.
I unlock it and open our conversation. I stare at the empty message box. What would I even send?
Good morning. Thank you for the life-altering orgasm. Apologies for biting you. Please confirm whether we’re now avoiding eye contact professionally or recreationally. Also, fuck you, how dare you not say good morning after I let you put your fingers literally inside of me!
I drop the phone onto the mattress. He should text me, he’s the one who left. After he made sure I was comfortable, tucked the blanket around me, stayed when I asked, and only moved once I was unconscious.
Asshole.
A considerate asshole, which is significantly more problematic. My body remembers the way he held me after. The warmth in my chest returns, gentler this time.
Then someone knocks on my door.
I nearly fall out of bed, the blanket tangles around my legs as I sit up. My heart slams once, hard enough to hurt.
Kiri?
I run a hand over my hair, which accomplishes nothing, and glance down at myself. My clothes are wrinkled and twisted, but present. Thank God for minor miracles, though I'm sure Father Marek probably wouldn't call it that. The knock comes again.
“Nat?”
Kasia.
Relief and disappointment collide so hard inside me they should qualify as an injury.
“Coming.”
My voice sounds suspiciously rough. I clear my throat, stumble from the bed, and catch sight of myself in the mirror.
My hair looks like I’ve spent the night in a wind tunnel.
There’s a faint flush high on my cheeks, and my lips are still swollen, from kissing him.
A stupid little smile pulls at my mouth again. I slap both hands over my face.
“Stop it.”
“Are you talking to me?” Kasia calls through the door.
“No, just talking to myself.”
I straighten my clothes, drag my hair into something that resembles a bun, and open the door a careful amount. Kasia stands in the hallway already dressed, made up, and irritatingly functional. Her sunglasses are perched on top of her head, and she has a coffee in each hand.
“You're not ready yet?” she says slowly, “We have to leave in forty minutes.”
“For what?”
She blinks at me. Then her expression changes from suspicion to genuine disbelief.
“The tour bus? Did you forget we're heading out today? Concert tomorrow?”
I stare back.
“Nagoya?” She asks, like it'll help me remember, but I'm a lost cause.
Nothing.
“I forgot.”
My brain has fully logged off. After what Kiri did to me last night, the fact I can still speak is kind of iconic.
“I gathered. Are you okay?"
“Yes.”
It's not a lie, technically. I'm more than okay physically. My body is practically glowing with contentment. Emotionally, I’m balancing on a wire above an active volcano, but that wasn’t the question.
She nods.
“Good. Then get ready.”
“I’m going.”
“You have thirty-eight minutes now.”
“Leave.”
She shoves a coffee in my hand then spins and heads back toward the door. Before leaving, she looks back.
“If anything happened last night—”
“Nothing happened. I'm alone, still in the same clothes and everything. Is that not good enough for you?”
Her eyebrows rise but I force myself not to fidget. Kasia’s gaze settles on me for one long, terrible second. Then she nods and the door closes behind her. I stand in the middle of the room holding my coffee.
Nothing happened. Just his mouth all over me, his hand between my legs, his voice talking me through an orgasm so intense I lost all my inhibitions.
Practically nothing.
I grab my phone but there's no new messages. My chest constricts. I throw it back down and head for the bathroom.
“Fine. I didn't need a dumb good morning anyway."
I'm going to shower, fix my face, then put on something guaranteed to make Kiri suffer. If I have to spend the entire day trapped on a tour bus with him, pretending I’m not replaying every second of last night, I might as well make it work to my advantage.
This day is going to be a fucking nightmare.
For both of us, if I have anything to do with it.