Page 12

Chapter 11

Kitty

When I’d settled into my PJs with my heating pad and trashy shows, I got a text.

GUY-GUY FRENCHIE

U get home ok?

Yeah thx. Excited for ur party?

Kitty tell me whats wrong

I’m ur oldest friend here. I’m worried. U looked pale

It’s not a big deal

Birdy come on

U really wanna know

Yes!!

It’s my period

Sorry ma puce

R u in for the night

Yes

K

“K?” What the hell did that mean? Violet came in to check on me before leaving for the hockey party. Our other roommate, Sadie, flanked her. I had totally forgotten that it was Halloween weekend, thus I’d be missing the chance to go out scantily clad and hook up with some guy dressed like a goober. Sounds bad, but in reality, it would be fun. Sadie and Violet were dressed like the Powerpuff Girls. I was supposed to be Buttercup to round out the trio. Oops.

“Feel better, friend. We’ll go get laid for you,” Violet said, shaking her ass.

“Be careful. Hockey guys aren’t necessarily the most upstanding gentlemen,” I warned.

“We can handle ourselves, Dad,” Sadie assured me before leaving me alone.

The suite was quiet, so I started one of my preferred methods for alleviating cramps: using my vibrator. Things were just getting good, when I heard a noise in the hall, footsteps and a bag rustling.

“Hello?”

“Kitty Bird? Which one of these is yours?”

“I’m in here,” I answered, heart pounding as I turned off my vibrator and shoved it under my pillow.

And there was Guy, a knight in shining armor of sweatpants and a convenience store bag. The smell of cold air came in with him. His messy dark hair curled around the edges of a beanie, which he took off.

“Hi.” He beamed, looking exceptionally attractive.

“How’d you get in here?”

“I saw Violet leaving. She told me where to go. You look like shit,” he said, kicking off his shoes by my door.

“Thanks? Why aren’t you at your party?”

“Because I wanted to party with you.”

“Guy, you can’t just show up. What if I had been asleep already?” I scolded him.

“Then I would have snuggled you,” he shrugged. “Or waited for you to get up. Or dropped the snacks and left. I don’t know. I didn’t think about it. You just looked really bad earlier. And now.”

Man, he couldn’t stop bringing up how bad I looked.

“So you’ve said. Does my period not scare you off?”

He got a funny look on his face. “No. You’re my friend, and you’re sick. You’re not going to bleed on me. You already puked on me last weekend anyway. What’s a little blood?”

“Suit yourself.”

“Move over. Let me show you the snacks I got.”

I paused the TV and scooted to make room for him on my bed.

“Okay, so we’ve got,” he extracted each item from the bag, “Salt and vinegar chips, those lime tortilla chips you like, M&M, Dr. Pepper, and fizzy water. What do you want?”

“Salt and vinnies,” I said with a grin. “Guy, this is too sweet. You didn’t have to do anything.”

He looked at me with a pout. “I don’t like seeing you sick. What are we watching?”

Guy opened the bag of chips for me because he knew sometimes I pulled too hard and blew up the whole bag. Then he cracked the Dr. Pepper, took a swig, and wiggled to get in bed behind me.

“Did I say you could get in my bed?” I asked.

“Do you not want me to?”

“I mean, yeah, I want you to, but you don’t even ask,” I argued, sitting up at the head of the bed with my chips.

“Oh, so at my place, you can get right in, but I have to ask at yours?”

I tipped my head to the side, weighing that question. “Point taken. You played really well today, by the way.”

“Thanks. I was glad you came. What were you going to be for Halloween tonight?”

“I was Buttercup from the Powerpuff Girls.”

“Clever. That explains what your roommates were wearing.”

“What about you?”

“Dracula. Same costume every year, so I’m not missing anything by not going out.”

“Let me guess, so you can suck on girls’ necks?”

“Ugh, Kitty, you have the worst opinion of me,” he scoffed, offended. “And yes, you’re right.”

“So my opinion is justified,” I said, feeling righteous.

“But you know, I don’t make love to any of them.”

I snapped to look at him. “You don’t have sex with the girls you get with?”

“Oh, I have sex with them. I just don’t make love to them. That’s reserved for the love of my life.” He said it deadpan, but I could see he was imploding from trying not to laugh. His accent was loud and proud in that statement: “sex wit dem,” and “de love of my life.” He could be simultaneously charming and infuriating.

“Fuck off,” I said, slapping his chest. “I can’t be held responsible for what I said last weekend.”

“Oh, yes, you can.”

“Guy, stop,” I whined. “Not only do I have crippling cramps and bleeding, but now I have anxiety, too.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, attaching himself to my side for a hug. “You know I love you.”

“But am I the love of your life?” I asked, gesturing to him with a chip.

Guy took a breath, thinking. “To be determined.”

I grabbed a tissue to wipe the chip grease off my fingers and burrowed back down in the sheets.

“I think you’re on my heating pad,” I said. Guy started moving his body, looking for the heating pad. Then, to my absolute horror, he shoved his hand under my pillow and pulled out my little purple vibrator.

Guy froze for a second with it in his hand, mouth slowly going into a wide O and his eyes growing round.

“Kitty,” he said like he was uncovering a scandal. “Were you touching yourself when I came in here? Is that why you were mad when I got here?”

“It helps with my cramps,” I huffed, snatching the vibrator out of his hand and shoving it in the bedside drawer. “Getting off is sometimes better than painkillers.”

“Did I interrupt? Do you need me to leave so you can finish the job?”

“No!”

His eyes went sinister. “Do you want me to help?”

“Jesus, Guy!”

“Okay, forget I asked. But the door’s open if you need me,” he said airily. “I’m pretty good at it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I scowled, finally finding my heating pad and turning it on. “I was watching Emily in Paris. Should we do something else?”

“Whatever you want, Birdy. I’m just here to keep you company and make sure you don’t bleed out or cramp to death.”

“That’s not quite how periods work, but I appreciate it anyway.”

Guy sat up in the bed, pulling me between his legs to lean into his chest. He wrapped his arms around my waist to hold my heating pad. Even though he was a wall of hard muscle, it was surprisingly cozy and warm snuggling into him. At first, Guy acted like he didn’t care about Emily in Paris. He was annoyed at the French stereotypes and the ridiculous cutesiness of it all.

By the third episode, he was furious. “Why is she even fucking with Alfie when she’s in love with Gabriel?!”

“Gabriel’s with Camille!” I argued.

“Well, he shouldn’t be. These people ignore their feelings!”

“I think that’s the point.”

“And you like watching people torture themselves?”

“I mean, they’re pretty people and it’s more angst than torture,” I pointed out.

“True,” Guy sighed.

“Do you want me to turn it off?”

“No,” he sulked. “I’m invested now.”

We both took a bathroom break, then got back into bed. Guy readjusted so he was spooning me.

“Can I get you anything? You comfortable?”

“I’m actually pretty tired,” I said.

“Do you want me to leave or keep you company?”

“Whatever you want. I’m cool if you stay.”

“Good, because I’m tired, too.”

And so we fell asleep like that, with Guy’s breath on the back of my neck and his warm, heavy arm holding my heating pad in place.

It was strange, and I knew it. Guy and I were snuggly friends. That day had been the first time we’d ever discussed anything remotely sexual, other than our slut-shaming conversation and the time he had his hand up my shirt in high school. I wondered what he would have done if I’d told him to get me off. Was he just joking? Or was he for real? Luckily, my body was too worn out to keep me up analyzing it.

Until it wasn’t. A few hours later, I woke to intensely painful cramps. My stomach roiled and I feared I’d throw up from the pain. It felt like my uterus was trying to physically leave my body. I curled forward and writhed as the waves of pain came over me. I let out a little cry. Guy stirred awake.

“Birdy?” he asked softly. “What’s wrong, ma puce ?”

“It’s really bad,” I gasped.

“What can I do?” His hand ran over my hair, kissing behind my ear.

“What time is it?”

“3:30.”

Enough time had passed that I could take medicine again. “Pills.”

“Okay, okay. Shh, it’s okay. I’m here,” he said frantically, scrambling to open the pill bottle on my desk. “How many?”

“Four,” I said, going full prescription dose for how bad my pain was. Guy handed me the pills and opened my water bottle. He reached down and turned my heating pad back on, then got back in bed behind me. His big body was so cramped against that wall, but he didn’t say a word about it.

“Is it always this bad?”

“Most times, yeah. It’s getting worse the older I get.”

“Poor Birdy.” He kissed my hair again. “That must be so hard.”

I turned over to face him, and he held me tight to his chest. I was shivering and sweating from the exertion of the searing pain.

“Have you seen a doctor for it?” Guy asked.

“Not really. I just figured it was my curse.”

“Will you promise me you’ll go see someone? I’ll take you if I have to. I don’t think this is normal, Kitty.” I heard the fear in his voice and knew he was thinking of his mom’s ovarian cancer.

“Yeah. I’ll go.”

“Thank you. I can’t stand that you’re hurting this bad.” Silence passed between us as I waited for the meds to start kicking in.

Guy stroked my hair and nuzzled my forehead, pressing kisses between my eyebrows. His voice was quiet and gravelly when he spoke next. “Would it help if I touched you, Kitty?”

He was already touching me in almost every way, his body completely surrounding me. His legs tangled with mine, his arms a tight hug around my upper body. His lower bicep was my pillow. It would seem he didn’t mean just physically putting his hands on me. He meant putting his hands on me there .

“I want to help you feel better. If that will help, I’m glad to do it, Birdy.”

But what would it mean? Would he kiss me? Did it mean he loved me more than as a friend? Would it mean he wanted me to touch him, too? I did want to. This would be crossing a line that our friendship may never come back from.

“Do you want to touch me like that?” I asked, barely a whisper.

Guy sucked in a shaky breath. “Yeah, Kitty. I do.”

I took an equally wobbly inhale. “Then yes.”

Gently, Guy shifted me so I was on my back. “Okay if I touch you other places and kiss you?”

“Yes.”

Guy’s mouth suspended over mine for a moment, giving me a chance to change my mind. Then his lips dropped to mine for the first time in years, sweet and soft. I gripped the back of his neck, drawing him into me as our lips sampled once, twice, then he stayed with me, our tongues meeting. Guy’s hand traveled down my body to the hem of my shirt, then crept up my bare skin.

“So soft, Birdy,” he whispered against my lips. His mouth worked against my throat as his fingers grazed the underside of my boob, my nipples puckering immediately. His touches were feather-light, maddening. He dragged his fingers lightly around my nipples before giving me the touch I craved. He peeled my shirt up to have full access to my breasts in the dark, teasing his mouth over the pebbled peaks. Under the cover of the dark, it was easier to accept what we were doing. Completely sober. We’d worked ourselves into a place where we couldn’t do something so intimate, yet there we were doing it.

Every nerve ending in my body was on full alert as his touch drew me out. I knew I was wet, and not from blood. His tongue flicked over my nipple again and I breathed out his name. He gave a tortured growl.

“Okay if I take my shirt off? I want to feel your skin,” he said.

“Fuck yeah.” The shape of him rose up on his knees and swiped his shirt off with one clean pull. I leaned up and let him yank my shirt off, too. When we crashed back together, the reality of what we were doing and what it meant faded, driven only by our bodies and need and years of wanting. His hair tickled my cheek as we kissed again, his body lined up over mine. My bare breasts smashed into his chest and though they were sore, it hurt so good. I curled my hips out of instinct, finding him hard in his sweatpants. He rubbed back against me, his erection hitting me just right. Guy moaned my name into my ear, pulling my earlobe into his mouth and pinching it between his canines. One hand was lodged under my neck, thumb stroking my throat, while the other explored my bare skin.

“My legs are hot,” I said, my sweatpants suddenly suffocating me. Guy sat back and tore them down my legs, shedding his own as well. We were down to just underwear. Somehow we went from friends who cuddled to friends who ripped off each other’s clothes in the throes of passion. He quickly arranged himself on top of me.

“You okay, Birdy?”

“Yes,” I panted, wrapping my legs around his hips. “More.”

He groaned again, grinding his erection along my seam. Even the thin layers of our underwear seemed like too much. I needed all of him. Nothing would be enough until I had him inside my body. Moisture pooled where precum leaked from his tip. Or maybe that was my own wetness. He continued rolling his hips slowly, his cock against my clit. I made my hand into a fist and captured his tip in it as he pressed forward.

“Fuck, Kitty.” He picked up the pace, the sensation of our bodies together intensely satisfying. He slowed down, bringing himself back from being lost in the moment.

“If I put my hand down there, will I get blood on me?” he asked. Not disgusted, just curious.

“No, I have a tampon in. Unless you pull it out and fling it across the room, you should be good.”

Guy stopped his grinding and gave a hearty laugh into my ear. “You have a way with words, Kitty Bird.”

He leaned on one elbow and palmed my breast, then slid his hand into my underwear. His middle finger parted me, dipping into the wet we’d made. My chest heaved, head falling back on the pillow as he dragged the wetness up to my clit, applying the lightest pressure to tease me. I moaned.

“That feel good?” he asked, the glint of his eyes in the low light hanging over mine. “Yeah?”

“More,” I begged.

“So greedy,” he said, keeping his touch light. I pushed my hips up into his hand. “So. Very. Greedy.”

“I need to come,” I whined.

“Oh, you’re going to come, sweetheart.” His voice was as dark as the velvety black around us.

“I want you to come with me.”

Guy let out a feral sound. “You first, ma puce .”

“Then let me have what I want,” I argued.

He did, smashing his mouth to mine as he sped up his circles around my clit and pressed harder. His mouth moved back to my breasts, sucking on one nipple and flicking it with his tongue.

“So fucking sexy when you want it, Birdy,” he gritted out, not really for my benefit, but more like he couldn’t help himself.

“Guy, I’m going to come.”

Just then, he backed off his touch. He was fucking edging me. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to, Kitty.”

I panted and writhed, desperate not to lose that edge. “Please,” I whimpered.

“Tell me,” he said playfully. I’d heard rumors of how fun he was in bed. This was certainly proving it.

“It’s mine.” I was unable to play his game.

“Oh, Birdy, that’s true, but you know that’s not the answer tonight. Who’s taking care of you?” The pressure from his fingers got lighter and lighter. I squirmed, seeking more.

“You.”

Guy rewarded me with increased speed and pressure from his hand. I clutched his wrist, desperate to keep him there.

“Good girl. Now come for me.” His voice was low and commanding, while also being encouraging. In the dark, I felt everything. His skin on mine, his breath on my neck, his hard length pressed into my leg, the intensity of his perfect touch.

And with that, I released with a cry, my pussy pulsing against his fingers.

“There you go, Birdy. That’s perfect,” he cooed, like he was genuinely proud of me for coming. His smile shined through as he covered my neck in kisses. “Feel better?”

He ran his fingers through my wetness, giving me light touches as my orgasm ebbed. I heard him suck his fingers, a hum as they left his mouth. Holy shit, that was hot.

“Much,” I laughed. We lay there, catching our breath, until my sweat started to cool. I reached over to Guy’s middle, slowly sliding my hand toward his dick. He put a hand on me to stop me.

“You don’t have to, sweetheart.”

“I want to,” I said. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

“You need to rest, Kitty. Your body’s been through a lot tonight.”

“So you don’t . . . want me to touch you?”

“No. I don’t,” he said. A sick feeling dropped into my stomach. I immediately regretted letting him get me off. He had just been doing me a favor. He wasn’t attracted to me. That wasn’t him wanting me. That was him taking pity on me.

He was rejecting me, just like he had in high school. But my pride was too big to let him know just how bad that hurt me. How much it ripped that scab open and dug into the wound all over again.

“Oh. Okay,” I said softly. Was that why we did it in the dark? So he didn’t have to look at me? I worked very hard not to cry, but I knew he was allowed to say no for any reason.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, though.

“Come on, Birdy. Let’s get some sleep.” He turned me in to face him and planted a kiss on my forehead before passing out.