Page 30 of False Confidence

Maggie looked up at her, raising a brow in the universal sign for go on.

It was time. She’d kept this from Maggie for ten years and that was, frankly, ten years too many. She took a deep breath. “Okay, so Liam’s a pleasure dom, which means making people come is kind of his thing, which is great except I haven’t been able to orgasm for ten years, and no one has ever noticed me faking it, including Liam the first time because we were both so drunk, but he noticed the second time and is determined to help me learn to come again, so we’ve struck an arrangement where he isn’t going to come until I do and he’s trying to help me figure out what I actually like, hence the list.” She said it all in one long breath and Maggie stared at her, unblinking.

“That is… a lot to unpack,” she said finally, tossing the list on the dash. “You haven’t had an orgasm in ten years? What the fuck?”

“Yeah.” Jazz gave her a weak smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“God. Is everything okay? Have you seen a doctor?”

Jazz gave Maggie the same rundown she’d given Liam, explaining her long, orgasmless, decade. By the time she was done, Maggie looked exhausted on her behalf.

“I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with this. I wish you’d told me. Hell, you know I see you like a sister, but I would’ve taken one for the team and given it my best shot.”

“What are friends for, if not for offering to help each other come during orgasm droughts,” Jazz said and the two of them dissolved into giggles. She and Maggie had kissed only once, in their freshman year of college when Maggie had first come out as bi, to see if there was anything more between them, and they’d immediately known they were meant to be just friends.

When they were both able to breathe properly again, Maggie asked, “Is Liam seriously not going to let himself come until you do?”

“Yeah. It’s unhinged.”

“Completely. But also weirdly sweet?”

“That too,” she agreed, leaning back against the headrest and smiling, staring out into the grey parking garage and thinking of how caring Liam had been with her the night before—how he’d held her in his arms as they both drifted off to sleep. Despite how crazy he was driving her by not letting her make him come—was this how he felt about her?—she’d had a great night. And she was going to make him come first.

“Jazz.”

She started. “Hmm?” When she turned to look at Maggie, her best friend was staring at her with her brows drawn close. “What?”

“It’s not just sex, is it? You have feelings for him.”

“I—” Jazz’s breath caught in her lungs, and she squeezed her eyes together, forcing the anxiety away. Where the hell had that come from?

She almost lied, no dancing on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped herself. It felt wrong, somehow, to pretend that what she and Liam had was just sex. Did she have feelings for him? Of course not. Not like Maggie meant, anyway. It just felt more muddled because she’d already cared about him before they started sleeping together. They’d always had a connection. Since that first day when I spotted you at the office, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, Liam had said. She hadn’t returned the sentiment, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t true in reverse.

“It’s not just sex, no. But I don’t know what exactly it is. And I know it’s complicated because we’re basically family—in a non-incesty way—but I also don’t particularly want to stop doing it.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Maggie promised. “Just be careful, please? I don’t want to see either of you hurt over this.”

She didn’t want to see Liam hurt, was more like it. There was no world in which Liam could hurt Jazz—he was too perfect—but she was a wildcard. “No one is going to get hurt.”

Maggie grabbed the bag of subs and handed one over to Jazz. “Alright. Lay it on me. Lack of orgasm aside, how was it?”

“I swear I filled in the list. I just don’t know where it is,” Jasmine groaned, leaning down and rummaging in her bag. It was crammed with stuff, most of which Liam could hardly make out, much like her apartment.

He’d expected chaos, this was Jasmine after all, but he hadn’t expected this. There was stuff everywhere. Not in a messy way—everything seemed to have a place—there was just a lot of everything. Mostly, Liam was surprised to see, crafting supplies. There were floor to ceiling cabinets stuffed with yarn and fabric, containers of beads and clay and paint. There was a stack of canvasses against the wall, still wrapped in plastic, and a sewing machine box that didn’t look like it had ever been opened. In the years he’d known her, Jasmine had never once mentioned crafting. And when he’d asked her about it, she’d quickly changed the subject.

He ran a soothing hand over her back. “Did you fill it in at your desk? You probably just left it in your drawer or something.”

Jasmine sat up like a shot. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“I left it in your dad’s car.”

“What the fuck?”

Before she could respond, Jasmine’s phone lit up where she’d dropped it on her coffee table, half hidden by the box of cereal she’d been snacking on while they waited for their takeout to arrive.

She grabbed it, holding it out so Liam could see the confirmation message from Maggie:

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