Page 17 of Brutal Days

Holy shit.I flopped onto my bed, bunching under my arms the watercolor-blue comforter that reminded me of the beach. I had no idea what I was doing. It was the first time I’d ever touched a penis. And it wasn’t so bad. A smile curved my lips. He certainly liked what I was doing. And the kiss was spectacular, not that I would ever tell him. Part of me wished that kissing me was a daily request Damon had made to date Gia.

That was crazy. I needed to get Damon out of my head. I pulled my phone from my pocket, tossed it on the bed, and went into the bathroom. After brushing my teeth and washing my face, I changed into pajamas and crawled into bed. I wanted to read for a while and try to take my mind off him, if that was even possible.

I grabbed my book from the nightstand but didn’t open it. Maybe I could think about all the things wrong with him. That might help to throw some ice-cold water on my raging inferno of need. Key word beingmight. It was all I had, and I mentally ticked off what was wrong with Damon.

He was a dumb jock.

I hated all athletes on principle, or maybe that was the same as number one?

He used girls and threw them away.

He didn’t really care about Gia, and my best friend deserved better.

He was an alpha asshole.

Dominant, aggressive, and entitled.

So good at kissing—wait!That one didn’t count.

My phone was blowing up, and since my list had gone sideways, I gave up and reached for it. I was sure Gia wanted to wax poetically about Damon some more.

It wasn’t Gia. It was him.

I squashed the excited flame. I needed to stay mad. Because really, speak of the devil—or demon—and I ended up conjuring him. I needed to be more careful with my thoughts. But it didn’t help that he was texting me, which inevitably put him back in my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried to banish him from there.

Damon:Send me a naked selfie, and I’ll ask Gia to eat lunch w/ me tomorrow

Me:NO

Damon:Fine—send a pic in your bra

I laughed. That I could do. I rolled off my bed and changed into my most conservative black sports bra. It showed no cleavage, nothing sexy from me. Hello uniboob. I lay on the bed, positioned the phone above me, then snapped a pic and sent it off to him with a loud swoosh.

Damon:Well played but your friend eats alone tomorrow

I laughed then snapped a pic of my middle finger. He was such a prick.

Damon:You want to fuck? I’m down for that

Me:Figures you would think that—fuck you

Damon:Put your hand down your panties. Bet you’re wet from what we did earlier. Throbbing, soft, delicious

I sucked in a breath and squeezed my legs together. He wasn’t wrong. Not that I would ever tell him that.

Damon:Send a pic of your hand down your panties

They were soaked, and I moaned at the discomfort. The situation was getting out of control. I needed to stop. I switched my phone to silent then shut off the light. Somehow, I had to get some sleep, preferably without him appearing in my dreams.

When my alarm blared through my room like a thousand trumpets, I flipped my pillow over my head and groaned. Fucking Damon. Most of the night, he’d texted, trying to bargain for favors, and I was the sucker who had kept peeking to see what he wanted next.

He needed to back off because I was exhausted and school was in—I lifted a corner of the pillow and glanced at the clock on my phone—an hour. I was screwed.

By the time I got to school with a giant to-go cup of coffee in hand, Gia was waiting for me and talking a mile a minute about how incredible Damon was.

“He’s not that great.” It slipped out before I could censor myself.

“Who’s not that great?”

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