Page 45 of Press Play

“You’re stunning.” His voice drops as he brushes a stray curl away from my face.

I gulp past the lump in my throat. How do I respond to such a comment? When I look at myself in the mirror, stunning isn’t a word that comes to mind.

“Do you believe me?” he murmurs.

I open my mouth to answer, but a sudden banging on the front door causes me to jump, stealing my response.

“That’s Mia,” I tell him, and he nods but doesn’t release me. “I asked her to come over. Is that okay?”

“You don’t have to ask my permission. This is your home too.”

With one final glance, he drops my hands and walks away to let Mia in.

His words play on repeat, and the blush on my cheeks isn’t doing me any favors.

Theo swings the door open. “If it isn’t trouble herself.”

“If it isn’t the local heartthrob.” She quips back.

When she takes in my frazzled state, her expression softens, and she holds up the bottle of blueberry wine. “It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”

“Just make sure she eats something. Wren is an emotional drunk,” Theo says while rummaging through the fridge.

I would give a retort, but he’s correct.

“I’ll bring some snacks; you girls have fun.”

Hunkering down in my new room, Mia plops at the foot of my bed while I land face-first in the blankets.

“Are you going to share with the class?” She twists the cap off the wine bottle, and the carbonation fizzles. “I assume it has to do with Theo. If it didn’t, you would have included Brandy in the message.”

“You’re right.” My voice is muffled by the mattress.

“And it must be bad because we’re drinking at ten in the morning.”

“Correct again.”

I push myself up and scoot down to sit beside her. I grab the bottle and take a swig before telling her everything, starting from the day his hands lingered on me in the kitchen. I tell her about what I asked him last night and end with what happened this morning.

“You asked himthat?” she screeches.

“I did.” I take another sip.

“And he said he wanted to fuck you while pressing his hard-on against your ass?” She reaches for the bottle, and I happily share it.

“Something along those lines,” I tell her.

“This is an SOS indeed. . .”

“I’m so confused,” I blurt out.

She takes a long drink before handing me back the bottle. It’s been thirty minutes, and we’re already buzzed.

“I don’t understand. Why did you ask him if girls fake it in those videos? Everyone knows it’s all theatrics.”

I groan. “I was curious and I trust him.”

“Every guy is going to think they’re a god in the bedroom,” she snarks. “But—” And there’s that devilish smirk of hers. “This one has proof.”

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