-`ღ´-

“Addie, you need to get laid."

I think I need a bigger mouth. More alcohol would fit in it.

When I continue sucking on the straw, she reaches over and rips the

In response, I wrap my lips around my straw and slurp my blueberry

I don’t say this out loud because I can bet my left ass cheek that her

follow-up response would be to use it for a bigger dick instead.

entirely unimpressed and impatient based on the quirk of her brow.

martini as deeply as my mouth will allow. Daya, my best friend, eyes me,

plastic from my lips. I’ve reached the bottom of the glass a solid fifteen seconds ago and have just been sucking air through the straw. It’s the most

eyes, searching the restaurant for the waitress so I can order another

action my mouth has gotten in a year now.

“Whoa, personal space,” I mumble, setting the glass down. I avoid Daya’s

martini. The faster I have the straw in my mouth again, the sooner I can

avoid this conversation some more.

“Don’t deflect, bitch. You suck at it.”

don’t take them. You’re a hot twenty-six-year-old woman with freckles, a

Our eyes meet, a beat passes, and we both burst into laughter.

“I suck at getting laid, too, apparently,” I say after our laughing calms.

Daya gives me a droll look. “You've had plenty of opportunities. You just

great pair of tits, and an ass to die for. The men are out here waiting.”

I shrug, deflecting again. Daya isn't exactly wrong—at least about having

options. I’m just not interested in any of them. They all bore me. All I get is

the morning. I’m wearing the same sweatpants I’ve been wearing the past

what are you wearing and wanna come over, winky face at one o’clock in

week, there’s a mysterious stain on my crotch, and no, I don’t want to

fucking come over.

She flips out an expectant hand. “Give me your phone.”

My eyes widen. “Fuck, no.”

“Or what?” I taunt.

“Or I will throw myself across the table, embarrass the absolute shit out

“𝘼𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙞𝙡𝙮 . 𝙂𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙚 . 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 . 𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 . 𝙋𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚 .”

of you, and get my way anyways.”

My eyes finally catch on our waitress and I flag her down. Desperately.

I procrastinate a little bit longer, asking the waitress what drink she

She rushes over, probably thinking I found a hair in my food, when really

my best friend just has one up her ass right now.

prefers. I’d look through the drink menu a second time if it weren’t rude to keep her waiting when she has other tables. So alas, I pick a strawberry

the mischievous glimmer in here ye growing brighter. Her thumbs go into

Sigh.

I hand the phone over, slapping it in Daya’s still out stretched hand extra

firm because I hate her. She smiles triumphantly and starts typing away,

martini in favor of the green apple, and the waitress rushes off again.

turbo speed, causing the golden rings wrapped around them to nearly blur.

Her sage green eyes are illuminated with a type of evilness you would

somewhere in there, too. A bombshell with dark brown skin, pin-straight

only find in Satan’s Bible. If I did a little digging, I’m sure I’d find her picture

black hair, and a gold hoop in her nose.

She’s probably an evil succubus or something.

“Who are you texting?” I groan, nearly stomping my feet like a child. I

and do something crazy like throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of

the restaurant. It probably doesn’t help that I’m on my third martini and

refrain, but come close to allowing a little of my social anxiety to air out

feeling a tad adventurous right about now.

She glances up, locks my phone, and hands it back a few seconds later.

I read aloud dryly. That’s not even all of it. The rest goes into how horny I

“Come over tonight and lick my pussy. I’ve been craving your huge cock,”

am and touch myself every night to the thought of him.

I growl and give her the filthiest look I can manage. My face would make

groan aloud once more when I see she sexted Greyson. Not texted. Sexted.

Immediately, I unlock it again and start searching through my messages. I

a dumpster look like Mr. Clean’s house.

“I wouldn’t even say that!” I complain. “That doesn’t even sound like

so she can see what he said. I jerk it out of her reach and pull up the

contemplating googling 1000 Ways to Die’s contact information so I can

send them a new story.

me, you bitch.”

Daya cackles, the teeny little gap between her front teeth on full display.

“Read it,” she demands, her grabby hands already reaching for my phone

I really do hate her.

My phone pings. Daya is nearly bouncing in her seat while I’m

message.

𝙂𝙍𝙀𝙔𝙎𝙊𝙉: 𝘼𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙨 , 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 . 𝘽𝙚 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙩 8 .

“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I really fucking hate you,” I

grumble, giving her another scowl.

She smiles and slurps on her drink. “I love you too, baby girl.”

“𝙁𝙪𝙘𝙠, 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙚, 𝙄'𝙫𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ,” Greyson breathes into my neck,...

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