Page 30 of The Bro-code

We had sex and while I didn’t come—as usual—I really enjoyed how affectionate Topher was last night. He kissed me a lot and held me tight. Guilt is consuming me about faking my orgasm, but how can I tell him that I don’t think my inability to climax has anything to do with him?

I’ve only had sex with another guy before Topher—my high school sweetheart—and things weren’t any different with him.

I’ve been exploring things on my own too but nothing seems to work. Maybe I’m too much in my own head. I read in multiple places that relaxing is fundamental to achieve the Big O.

But how can I relax when I always have so much going on?

My course load, my influencer job, my new sponsorship with the hair tool company, the Zeta presidency, Lakyn.

A lot of people depend on me and I can’t let my guard down. I have a five, and a ten year plan, and failure is not an option.

Maybe I should go to therapy. I read that meditation can help release tension and in turn that can lead to… another kind of release.

With my mind made up, I flip onto my stomach, going through the outfits I brought with me in my head. We’re having brunch with Topher’s parents and I need to look my best. Mr. and Mrs. Mumford are nothing like my very laid back parents. They’re very formal and they care about outfits and how one presents themselves, even if we’re having brunch at home.

I swear to God, this bed is too comfortable. As I lay on my stomach, thinking that a simple, dark blue sheath dress is probably a safe bet, I almost doze off again.

The last thing I want is to be late to brunch. I slip out of bed and head straight into the bathroom.

After one hour of hair and makeup, I look ready for a photo shoot at the White House. I think even Topher’s mother shouldn’t be able to find any fault with my appearance.

As I walk to Topher’s room, I see that he isn’t there. One of the house staff is making his bed and I see a vacuum cleaner and more cleaning supplies. I’ve seen people who can afford this many staff in shows like Downton Abbey. Everything in here screams old money, from the fancy mansion and furniture, to the very stiff butler who runs this household with an iron fist and a permanent disdainful expression on his face.

I make my way downstairs, and I’d be lying if I said that I don’t feel relieved when I don’t bump into anyone.

Topher told me to make myself at home when we got here a couple of days ago, but it’s hard.

It’s as if even the walls were assessing me and judging my suitability for the heir to all of this wealth.

When I started dating Topher, I had no idea about his background. It wouldn’t have made any difference if his family was blue collar. What attracted me to Topher was his kindness—even though he likes to hide that under a veneer of cockiness—and his drive and ambition.

To me it doesn’t matter where you come from, but I couldn’t be with someone who doesn’t have goals and passions in life.

This house is so big that I wish they gave first time guests a map to navigate it. I must admit that I’m lost. I could have sworn that I had to turn right twice from the foyer to reach the “summer room,” where Christine likes to have informal brunches.

Hopefully I’ll bump into someone soon. The last thing I want is to show up late for a meal. Topher couldn’t stress this enough, his parents are sticklers for routine.

Voices are coming from a slightly ajar door.

Yes! Whoever this is, I’ll ask for directions to the summer room.

My fist stops in mid-air as I’m about to knock, when I hear my name.

“I love Bay, Dad,” Topher says. “I’ve been head over heels for her since the first time I saw her at a party on campus two years ago. I told myself that night that I would marry her. I was planning on proposing after graduation, but I don’t think I want to wait. I’m going to ask Mom for Grand-mamà’s engagement ring and I’ll ask her at New Year.”

Aww, Topher.

I should probably walk away, so that when he does ask me to marry him some of it will be a surprise. But I’m glad I know that he’s planning to ask at the big New Year’s party his parents host every year. I already have the perfect gown, but if I’m going to be photographed wearing a big, fancy ring, I might have to drive into Hartford and get my manicure refreshed. Maybe something classic but with a little sparkle to celebrate the new year.

I’m about to turn on my heel, but I stop when I hear his father’s response.

“I would think long and hard before asking your mother for that ring, Toph,” his father says. “And I see no reason to rush a proposal.”

Oh.

Ok, I better go. But my feet refuse to move and it’s as if they’re glued to the hardwood floor of the hallway.

“Why not? Bay is gorgeous, intelligent and everyone I know envies me for being with her. She’s at the top of our class and she runs a successful business on top of keeping a perfect GPA and being president of Zeta Theta Beta. She?—”

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