Page 69 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

I chuckled. “God, no. Look, be careful what you say about me. It takes me a while to trust people. The fact that you’re here is an anomaly.”

“I understand. And I’m honored.”

“Okay.” I took a deep breath. He’d said all the right things, and even though it felt like I was wearing that hair shirt under my skin, I needed to let it go. He’d meant well. And I liked him. “Let’s go downstairs before they get into the good liquor.”

“Tell me where it is, and I’ll pour you a glass.” Gently, he set the cat down on the bed, then rubbed the tense muscle between my shoulder and my neck.

“Yes, please,” I said.

He leaned forward to rumble in my ear, “After everyone goes home, I’ll give you a back rub.”

“Sounds fantastic.”

He held my hand as we walked back downstairs to the party. He stayed by my side, laying his hand on my lower back or brushing the inside of my wrist or leaning his shoulder against mine whenever he could, like his touch could reassure me he’d never betray my trust again. And I let him because it felt good. He knew all the ways to set my heart thumping in anticipation of what we’d do alone when everyone went home. But from now on, my skin would be a barrier. I wouldn’t trust him with any more of my secrets.

28

Global Warming? No, It’s the Chemtrails

From Barry Wright’s manifesto:

Those “condensation trails” left by aircraft are actually streams of chemicals the government is using to control the weather.

TESSA

When I woke up, I knew exactly what kind of day it would be: a pain day.

Stabs radiated through my abdomen as I lay on my side. The weight of Oliver’s hand seemed to focus the throb of it. Gently, I lifted his palm and set it behind me. I tucked up my knees, curling around the ache.

Behind me, he shifted his body closer and touched my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Hurts.”

He sat up. “I’ll get your medicine.”

I breathed slowly in and out as deeply as the pain allowed, trying to imagine a tiny amount of the pain leaving my body on each exhale. It was total bullshit. The only thing that would dull the cramp was naproxen.

He was back in a minute with a glass of water and the prescription bottle. Although he’d pulled on his sexy sweatpants, I couldn’t focus on anything but the knives cutting me open.

“Can you sit up?” he asked.

I moaned and instantly hated myself. He shouldn’t see me like this. Since he’d spilled my secret at Savannah’s birthday party almost two weeks ago, I’d blocked him from everything but my bed. Now I wished I’d kicked him out last night. I’d known my period was coming, and the cramps that came with it, but I’d been too wrung out from orgasms to move, much less tell him to go away.

I grasped his hand and let him pull me up to sitting and leaned against the headboard. I breathed through another wave of pain, then brushed the tangled hair out of my eyes. He shook a tablet from the bottle into my palm, then handed me the glass of water. I gulped it down and closed my eyes, willing it to dissolve quickly into my bloodstream.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” he asked.

I groaned, anticipating the pain that would shoot through me with every step. “Yes.”

“I’ll carry you.” He bent, already scooping his arms under my knees and back.

“Absolutely not.” My voice was stronger now. “Give me your hand.”

I let him pull me up to standing and leaned on him until we made it to the bathroom door. “I’ve got it from here.”

“You sure? I don’t want you to fall.” The adorable little line creased between his eyebrows.

“I’m a forty-three-year-old woman who’s been successfully walking since I was one. I’m not going to fall.”

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