Page 159 of Tricky Girls

‘Me and Elly, she only touches me when we’re in bed.’

Haz’s shoulder shrugs under my head. ‘Fine with me. Wouldn’t be the first pillow princess to bless my bedsheets.’

‘I don’t want that though. That’s not me. I love giving pleasure. I’m just…out of my depth a bit. Me and Elly have been going slow.’

‘That’s what you call it?’

I smile. ‘I mean, there’s been progress.’

‘So I’ve heard.’

‘I can’t believe that. I can’t believe you’ve been fucking yourself to us.’

‘You better believe it. Saturdays and Tuesdays are your nights, right? Best nights of the fucking week.’

‘Oh my god.’ I put a hand over my face, the ribbon pulling. ‘That is so messed up.’

‘Exactly how I like it. Messy and messed up.’ She pats my back. ‘Maybe I can join the two of you next time. Feast my eyes as well as my ears.’

‘Maybe,’ I whisper.

Definitely,a voice in my head replies.

CHAPTER 32

Elly

It’s rare I’m up early on a Saturday, preferring to sleep in and tend to my hangover. The sky outside my window is a bright white, the pine trees ruffling in a wind. I yawn as I strip my bed, balling the sheets into a pile on the floor.

This has gotta be a testament to how much I like that girl. Up at the crack of dawn to make sure the sheets are washed and dried and ready for her.

Saturday night. Our night.

I love it. Fucking love it. It’s not even just the sex—sometimes we don’t even have it, just cuddling and talking and sleeping in each other’s arms is enough.

Is this love? Like, for real?

Shit, probably. I’ve always been gone on that girl. Still trying to figure out what good I did in a past life to deserve her attention. The attention of a girl who used to swear blind she was only into guys. It’s a modern miracle.

Dirty sheets in hand, I jog down the stairs, not at all surprised to see Nic already up in the kitchen. She’s still in her pyjamas but her backpack’s on the table and she’s making up a meal that doesn’t exactly scream breakfast.

‘Hey.’

She glances my way. ‘Hey, yourself.’

I chuck the bedding into the washing machine, rummaging in the cupboard under the sink for softener. ‘Off on a hike?’

‘Mm-hm. Rainstorming later so getting it in early.’

‘Sweet. Watch out for the wolves.’

‘Always watching out for those puppies.’

I never know if I believe her when she says things like that. I’m inclined to believe the wolf thing is just a way to get us out the forest after dark. I’ve certainly never seen one and it’s not for lack of looking.

‘Going home this weekend?’ she asks, pausing what she’s doing for my answer. Showing she really cares.

I shake my head. ‘Not this weekend. Maybe next, though.’

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