Page 51 of Packed Up In Vegas

Amir was already at the dining table, his arms crossed as he waited for us. Why the hell was he so cranky today? He pushed the chair out next to him with his foot so Kai could set me down.

A bowl of soup sat at each spot and a stack of grilled cheese cut diagonally—the only correct way to cut it—was in the middle of the table. They all watched me, waiting until I had taken the first piece before helping themselves. I almost never had grilled cheese made with real cheese. The cheap plasticky stuff that melted down into cheese-flavored glue was more my speed, but I couldn’t deny that having a proper cheddar was fucking delicious. I dunked every bite in the soup, wiggling happily.

I was pretty sure at one point Jerry had known how to cook, but as soon as we’d moved in together it was like he had forgotten the skill entirely, leaving the meals to me. He had never been very happy with meals like this, but they were so nostalgic for me that they were my immediate go-to whenever he was out of town.

I inhaled three of the half-sandwiches before finally sitting back, patting my food baby with a deep breath.

“How did you fit all of that in there?” Amir asked, amusement coloring his tone. “You’re so tiny.”

“I need the fuel. Besides, I can fit three cocks inside me and I don’t think the sandwiches are any bigger than that.”

Diego choked on his soup, laughing between gasping breaths. Kai had luckily not been eating when I said that, and had his mouth covered with his hand, his shoulders shaking.

I beamed at them. Sure, maybe the joke was a little bit crude, but I liked that I could make them laugh.

“My cock takes up more space than a sandwich,” Amir grumbled.

“Do you still want to go shopping for new clothes today?” Miles asked, changing the subject.

“I wouldn’t say no to some fresh clothes. What I brought with me is going to get old fast, and I can’t exactly be running around in your shirts in public.”

“Sure you can,” said Amir. “Add a belt and it’s no different than any other dress.”

“Tell me you don’t know anything about fashion without telling me you don’t know anything about fashion.” I stuck my tongue out at him. “I need at least a few more basics.”

The whole pack took me to the outlet mall. I didn’t want to keep them for too long, so I mostly stuck to brands I already bought from to grab a few easy things that were replicas of what I used to have.

“We should definitely go through here,” said Kai, pointing out one of the lingerie stores.

“Sure, pick out anything you want and I can try it on.”

That was the wrong thing to say because Kai took off like a kid in a candy store. Diego followed after him, leaving me with Miles and Amir.

“Pick some things for yourself,” said Miles. “We both know they’re not going to choose anything practical.”

He wasn’t wrong. It was more than a little awkward to dig through the on-sale panties with the two of them hovering and Amir looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

“You can leave if you want to,” I told him.

“We’re supposed to make sure you’re safe.”

“Well, if you’re going to stay, could you at least not look like you’re being held at gunpoint to be shopping with me?”

“You’re supposed to be looking at the clothes, not at me.”

“I would love to do that but you’re walking around over here with a little storm cloud over your head.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Seriously, just go do whatever you want. Miles is with me, and Kai and Diego are, like, ten feet away.”

Amir considered for a few moments before nodding. “One of you text me when you’re ready to go.”

He disappeared, leaving me with Miles, and I tried not to feel the cut of his rejection. Easier said than done.

I put on every item Kai and Diego picked out, but refused to show them in the store, knowing that if I caught sight of the heat in their eyes, we would end up doing something that would get us kicked out. They could wait until we got home to see the items before they ripped them off.

By the end of the afternoon, I had a decent start at a proper wardrobe. Miles had insisted on paying for my clothes. The second I had tried to pull out my own card to buy anything all day—lunch, lemonade, soft pretzels—one of their hands would whip out to replace it with their own.

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