Page 6 of For the Plot (The Stone Siblings #1)

James

Build Me Up Buttercup - The Foundations

“... father, prepare to die!”

I paused right inside the doorway, just out of view of the couch, and cursed under my breath. Coming home to find The Princess Bride playing was never a good sign.

Locking the door behind me, I dropped my keys in the bowl on the stand by the door, taking a moment to collect myself before going to find her.

It had been a long night, and I had decided against a casual hookup with the hot guy who had been eye-fucking me.

I was trying and failing to convince myself that it wasn’t because I thought I saw Nikki for the third time, running out the front door of the bar this time.

I made my way to the living room and sure enough, there was Nikki, fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders and head like a little turtle, bowl of ice cream in hand, staring dejectedly at the TV.

I hated seeing her upset. Because I hated seeing any of my friends upset, of course—not just her specifically.

“What’s up, buttercup? I wasn’t expecting you to still be up.” I flopped onto the couch next to her, throwing my feet up on the coffee table. She glared at me, looking between my face and the shoes on the table. I rolled my eyes, kicking them off onto the floor. “Better, your majesty?”

“Please, you menace, we don’t have to be royals to not put shoes on a coffee table.”

I ignored her valid point and instead nodded at the TV, raising my brow in question. Curiously, her cheeks flamed red, and she sunk deeper into the blanket.

“Oooh, juicy drama! Tell me!” I rested my chin on folded hands, fluttering my lashes at her. Nikki tried to fight the smile forming on her lips, and I tried to ignore the way my chest warmed in approval at getting a positive reaction from her.

“Be quiet, I’m trying to watch my movie.

” She shushed me before turning back to the screen and pretending to watch.

She definitely didn’t need to watch; she could probably quote the entire thing from memory.

I reached over her to grab the remote, my elbow accidentally brushing her breasts as I went.

I quickly leaned back into the couch and paused the movie, hoping my face didn't show a blush. I turned to her expectantly.

Nikki huffed in exasperation. “OK, you just have to promise you won't laugh at me.” She set her ice cream bowl on the table.

I gasped in mock outrage, a hand to my chest. “ Laugh at you? I would never!” She stared, unamused at my antics.

“Besides, of course, all the times I have laughed at you before. And probably will again if we’re being perfectly hone—” My words were cut off when she hit me in the face with one of the couch pillows. “Fair enough, please continue.”

She looked down at her hands instead of speaking. I sat quietly and waited, knowing she would start speaking when she was ready.

“I tried to hook up with someone tonight.” She looked at me tentatively, like she was searching for reproach or judgement.

Why she thought I, of all people, would judge her was so beyond me it hurt my feelings a little bit.

But all I did was nod in encouragement for her to continue, ignoring the twinge I felt at the thought of her hooking up with someone.

Wait, no, I felt no twinge. There was no twinge because there were no feelings because she was my friend and that was it.

“It, uh, didn’t go well.”

“What a relief. I would hate to see how you reacted if this is what you looked like after a good experience.”

She glared at me. “Jackass,” she mumbled under her breath before continuing. “I came by The Sleepy Siren after Collins and Will convinced me I should try hooking up with someone to get me out of my slump.”

So I had seen her tonight at the bar. It made me feel slightly better that I wasn’t seeing her in places she wasn’t. I tried ignoring the way that made me feel, and tried to focus on Nikki’s feelings instead of my own.

“Why in the world would you take advice from them?”

“I know." She grinned wryly. “I definitely learned my lesson there.”

“For real, though, why would they suggest you try a hook up and why would you actually do it?”

She stiffened. “Why is me hooking up with someone so wild of an idea?”

“No, no, no, that’s not what I meant.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to gather my thoughts and not put my foot in my mouth again. “I meant why would hooking up with someone help with your writer's block, and why would you go do something you don’t really seem to want to do?”

A deep sigh gusted out of her, and she seemed to deflate. She picked at the skin around her nails rather than looking back at me. She mumbled something under her breath I couldn’t hear.

“What?” I ducked down, trying to get closer to hear.

“I said, I need to have sex so I can write!”

I blinked in confusion.

“You all know I’ve never had sex, but you don’t know that my writer's block is because I got called out in a viral review on social media for having ‘unrealistic sex scenes’ written by ‘someone who seems like they’ve never actually had sex.

'” She used air quotes as she spoke, voice cloaked in frustration.

I choked on my own breath as I took in her words. “I see…”

“I told you not to laugh at me!”

I raised my hands in defense. “I’m not laughing!” But I was biting my lip to hold back the grin trying to break out across my face.

“I will throw another pillow at your face, I swear to Princess Buttercup.”

At that I did finally break down laughing, and it only took a moment for her to join me. “So they all found out the big secret, huh?”

“It’s not like I was out there lying saying I’m some sexpert or something!

Sometimes being a romance author is so weird.

In what other job, besides sex work of course, do people question you about your sex life?

With sex workers, their life is their work, so I know it’s a little different, and of course writing smutty romance or erotica has crossover with sex work, but that’s a whole other discussion.

But man, sometimes readers have so little respect for authors as people.

The amount of invasive questions romance authors get about their sex lives is so gross.

If it’s not offered freely, it’s none of your damn business! ”

“Damn, seriously? That’s so messed up.”

“It really is! Just because I write about people having sex doesn't mean strangers get to ask me about my personal sex life.”

“So, about that sex life…”

Nikki rolled her eyes. “Collins made the same joke he always does about me just needing to get laid, and this time, I actually thought about it and it made sense. When I write about something I don’t have actual experience with, I research it.

So this was like, I dunno, research? I just thought, maybe if I finally have sex it will make me feel like less of an imposter. ”

“Well you make research sound a lot more fun than I remember it being in college.” A laugh barked out of her at that, and I preened to myself that I had managed to cheer her up.

“So what happened? Are you a bad kisser?” I pretended like my heart didn’t beat just a little faster at the idea of kissing her.

“Why do you assume I was the bad kisser? Maybe I’m an amazing kisser, and she was the one who sucked.” Her lips twitched at her own wording, and I snorted, trying very hard not to acknowledge the thought of just how good a kisser she might be.

“And was there? Sucking?” I asked, enjoying just how red her face got.

“We never got past the kiss. I just… I couldn't do it.”

“Ah well, you gave it the old college try. What’s the next idea to get you over your slump? I hear they’re doing some great things in porn lately. You should try that instead.”

“Psh, if you think I don’t already watch porn—ethical porn, by the way, thank you very much—then you’re dumber than I thought.”

I cleared my throat, squirming in my spot, doing my absolute best not to picture exactly that when she was close enough to see just how tight my pants were starting to get with this line of conversation.

Nikki seemed to realize what she said after saying it and clammed up, looking down to her fingers again.

But I didn’t miss the pink tinge to her cheeks.

“I’m gonna try again, just maybe not in a bar bathroom after five minutes this time.”

“Right, of course. That makes sense.”

“How do you do it?”

My eyes widened. “How do I… have sex?” I could barely get the words out, my skin suddenly feeling too tight for my body.

“Oh my god!” She buried her face in her hands. “Oh god, that’s not what I meant. I just meant, you’re demi, too. How do you do casual hookups?”

“Oh.” My heart rate slowed back down, and I thought about it for a moment before responding.

“Well, most of the time I’m still not physically attracted to the partner I hook up with.

I just do it because it feels good. Like, I don’t feel sparks or butterflies, but sometimes it feels good to get off by something other than my own hand.

” Now it was my turn to blush and avoid looking her in the eyes, but I didn't really know how else to explain it.

“You know demisexuality is a spectrum. Attraction versus action and all that. And of course there’s the differences in sexual orientation versus sex drive as well.

But just like most people on the asexual spectrum—or, let's be real, most human beings in general—I go through different periods of libido. Times when it’s higher, times when it’s not.

” I shrugged, trying to pretend like I was completely unaffected by this conversation.

The four of us talked about a lot of stuff, but Nikki and I had never truly had in-depth conversations about sex one-on-one before. I had always made damn sure of that.

She hummed in response, staring thoughtfully at the scene paused on the screen.

“I guess that makes sense. And I’m not in any rush to be in a relationship necessarily.

Or like I think that I need to have a sexual experience to be valid.

But I want to experience it. Not because I feel like it will make me a ‘real adult’ or any of that bullshit, but because I want to.

It just doesn’t seem like it’ll ever happen to me at this point. ”

“Nikki, look at me.” She looked up, eyes hesitant, braced for impact. “If you want it to, it will. It just needs to be with the right person for you. ”

She shot me a small smile. “Thanks, James.”

Nikki unpaused the movie, and we both settled back into the couch. I wanted to say more, but I also didn’t want to push her.

Because in the deepest recesses of my soul, part of me thought I was the right person for her.