Page 133 of Butterfly Effect

“You like that, huh? Finally, some privacy.” With a yawn, his arms stretch above his head and plop over my shoulder. I move my gaze from the hand placement to his dopey expression.

“And smooth, too.”

“So…?” His suggestive glance pairs with a goosebump-inducing caress against my thigh.

What was that I said about not getting fingerbanged on the bus?

“So…?”

“You wanna…?”

“Wanna what?” I have an idea, but I wanna hear him say it.

“Wanna watch a Bollywood movie?”

“You watch Bollywood movies?”

He gapes. “You don’t?”

“That’s all Indi. She made me watch them.” She made me join our uni’s dance crew, too—a hopeless effort to connect me with my Indian side. Only lasted one year, though. Thebasketball team’s schedule was too demanding for anything else but studying.

“Landon got me hooked. They’re so fun!”

I succumb to his puppy eyes. “Fine, I’ll watch. Did you have one in mind?”

Wade points to his tablet, where “Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani” finished downloading. “This one? It’s a favorite and came back on Netflix finally.”

“Sure.”

“Can we make out, too?”

The innocent question catches me off-guard. “Make out?”

“Please?” There’s a nudge of his nose against my cheek. The brush of his warm lips, his hot breath. Begging and begging.

My shoulder crumples, sandwiching him in the crook. “You wanna kiss me?”

“Only all the fucking time.” His words melt into my skin, buzzing with a desperate whimper.

“Aww,” I coo. “Okay.”

“Perfect. It’ll get you primed for my fingers later.”

“In front of the team? And management?”

“Didn’t seem to bother you on Halloween.”

“We weren’t working. My boss is sitting, like, five rows up.”

“Everyone’s gonna be passed out in a second. And if they hear, good. They deserve to know my girlfriend is well-fucked.”

Well-fucked indeed. The fake part of fake girlfriend seems to be withering away day by day.

No, no. Wade and I are friends.

Friends who fuck.

I tighten the belt of my pea coat in the cab.

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