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EMILY

Pacing, that’s what I’m doing. Kelsey, the best sister in the world, told me a time to come over.

That way, it doesn’t look like it’s completely staged.

What I’m most shocked about is that she hasn’t shared anything about this charade with Deke.

It’s so unlike my sister, but I’m thankful.

When I left that morning, it wasn’t because I truly wanted to.

I was worried about getting caught, drama ensuing at my sister’s wedding, and shit getting heavy.

In all actuality, I should be on my way to Kelsey and Deke’s place.

I’m not, though. Instead, I’m still wearing the carpet thin at my place.

The same place I’ve had since I moved out of my parents’ house years ago.

The rent is cheap, the place is updated enough for my use, and now that Beach Babe has a warehouse, there’s even more room.

A two-bedroom, one-bathroom condo to lease by the beach is bank.

My parents swear I should quit throwing away all this money every month and invest in a place to buy.

Which, believe me, I completely understand, except for the fact that if you own a home, all of the responsibilities fall on your shoulder.

Need a new roof? You have to deal with quotes and estimates.

Need new windows? There it is again. Same goes with an air conditioner or anything else around the house.

And while yes, I have a brother-in-law who would have no problem helping me out, relying on anyone isn’t my cup of tea.

Not to mention if a faucet is leaking, or a flood happens from a toilet that won’t stop running, it’s me having to deal with cleaning up in the middle of the night.

Sure, I’d have to deal with some of that here, but it’s different when the place is in your name and a bank loan is attached to it.

So, while it may be smart for someone who is handy and doesn’t mind having that added worry, that’s not me.

I’d rather not have that cloud over my head and throw money away like my parents insist on saying I’m doing.

I’m dressed and ready to leave, but my thoughts are holding me back, worrying about looking like a fool.

The what-if game plays on my mind in repeat format.

Do I look like I’m trying too hard is the current woe-is-me concept.

I’m in a white tank top that’s slightly cropped, paired with loose linen olive-green overalls—not the jean kind either; this is all soft material, something you could practically sleep in, and of course, Beach Babe carries it.

The leather sandals on my feet are the only thing not from our store.

Well, minus my undergarments, and that’s because I’m a snob when it comes to bras and panties.

Beach Babe sells bralettes, and sure, they’re cute, but when your boobs are bigger than you’d like them to be, it kind of doesn’t work in your favor to bend down and have a tit pop loose.

I have my phone in one hand, keys in the other.

My travel mug that’s the size of my head is sitting on my entry table, since I never left my house without it.

My purse, yeah about that; it’s either in my car or I left it at the boutique.

Damn thing is always being left behind. My phone chiming makes me stop walking back and forth from the front door towards the living room.

Kels: Where are you? You better not chicken out!

It takes me a few seconds to come up with a reply. During that time, the bubbles appear on my screen after I unlock it to type out my own response, then Kelsey’s disappear to reappear again.

Me: I take it back. I’m staying home. So what if I can’t ever orgasm again? There are some women who go years and years without sex. I’ll just tell my vagina to get used to it.

Kels: Sure, so you’ll basically become a nun besides being devoted to the church, then? We’ll see how long this lasts.

Me: I’m serious, Kelsey. It’s been months. What’s years anyways.

Kels: Well, if you don’t move your ass to my place, I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands.

Me: You wouldn’t!

“I love my sister, I love my sister,” I say out loud. Not like she can hear me, but it helps calm my nerves all the same.

Kels: I will. You know I will. You gave me the push when it came to Deke. Consider this the same thing. Besides, Deke already mentioned to Tate that you’d be stopping by ;)

Me: Fine. I’m leaving now.

She’s broken girl code, I can already tell, especially if Deke has talked to Tate. Clearly, my sister is a traitor of epic proportions.

Kels: About time. Move it along, sister. I’ve got us set up on the back deck, and alcohol is involved.

I don’t respond. Instead, I’m walking towards my front door, grabbing my water, and heading out the door.

I guess it’s now or never. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?

I could make an ass out of myself and Tate not be interested, or we can both agree that mutual orgasms are much more fun.

Either way, if it’s a losing situation, it’s not like I’m unprepared for it.

Months, I tell you, I’ve gone without, and if he’s up for it and there’s a winning side, I’m sure the fun we’ll have together will more than make up for the lack of O’s I’ve achieved lately.