Page 41 of Getting Lucky Number Seven

“Hey,” she said, charging inside and flopping onto the couch. She opened up her laptop. “So, here are some of the tattoos I picked out. I need your input.”

Working to shift gears on where my thoughts were headed and move them to where hers were, I walked over to the couch and sat next to her. A girl on a mission, apparently, she didn’t bother looking at me. Just clicked through several pictures of flowers and butterflies in different colors and sizes.

“When I talked to Whitney, she was like what’s the point unless people see it? So she votes for something like this…” Lyla pointed to a large floral tattoo with swirls. “But then I was thinking that this isn’t for other people, it’s for me. Plus, that’d take a long time, and it’d probably hurt like crazy.

“I’m thinking one of the watercolor tattoos instead, because they’re really cool. Like maybe this one…” She clicked to a lotus flower. “Or this one.” I wasn’t sure what kind of flower it was, but it was little and pink and orange.

“I think the second one,” I said. “It looks like you.”

She glanced at me and grinned. “I think that’s my favorite, too.” I thought maybe she’d take a beat to say more, maybe greet me properly—which I wouldn’t be opposed to including a kiss—but then her attention went right back to the laptop. “Okay, I’ve been looking up reviews for tattoo parlors and…”

Her words blurred as I stared at the zipper on the inside of her boots. My fingers twitched, wanting to slowly zip it down and see her legs again. For them to be wrapped around me. How could she focus on anything else now that we were finally in the same room again? Ever since Sunday night, I’d hardly been able to stop thinking about the sex and how amazing it’d been.

Suddenly I started worrying it hadn’t been mind-blowing for her. Maybe it was just okay, and I was as clueless as her ex. Maybe she couldn’t even cross it off her list.No, she wouldn’t have faked it. What would be the point?Not to mention, I’d felt it when I’d been buried deep—

“Beck? Are you listening to me?”

“Honestly? No. Your dress is short and those boots are hot.” I nearly laughed at the way her mouth dropped open. “Like you didn’t know how sexy you looked when you put that outfit on.”

“Sexy?” she asked, as if she’d never heard the word before.

I nodded and closed the space between us, my attention consumed by her mouth. The instant her soft lips were under mine I groaned in relief. “I’ve always had a thing for skirts, with their easy access.” I slid my hand up her thigh and when she spread her legs, I stroked her with my thumb.

I took in the shaky breath she exhaled and slipped my tongue in to meet hers. Within a couple of seconds she was rolling her hips. Telling me when to go faster or slower. The boots came off and so did the panties, but the skirt stayed on. When I mentioned that I’d always wanted to have sex against the wall with a woman in a skirt, she said, “Well, how convenient. I just so happen to have a skirt on, and there are several walls in here.”

I wasted no time backing her up against one. And as one of my sexual fantasies came true, I made a note to figure out what hers were, so that I could make sure I fulfilled every. Single. One.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lyla

I stood in front of my closet, surveying the contents and trying to mentally put an outfit together.It’s not like I’m his girlfriend, so it doesn’t matter what I wear.

Over the past few weeks, I’d had alotof mind-blowing sex. Once in a while I’d get caught up in thinking about Beck, and admittedly they weren’t always just-friends or just-sex-buddies thoughts. Now he’d asked me to go to a party the hockey team was throwing, and anxiety churned through me, along with question after question.

Would he hold my hand?

Kiss me?

Hit on other girls in front of me?Man, that’d suck.

Just remember, no matter what happens, he thinks I’m sexy.A calm washed over me. He liked me for me, and he’d never cared much what other people thought. I did know he had a thing for skirts, though, so I pulled on the short lavender lace one I’d bought during my last shopping excursion—I was definitely going to need a summer job to pay off that credit card—along with a white tank top and a dark purple beaded necklace.

As I was deciding yay or nay on a shimmery silver headband, my phone rang. Last minute I decided yay—the headband added bling and volume to my hair, so win-win. I picked up my phone, expecting Beck, but Miles’s name was there instead.

“Hello?” I answered, wondering if he’d called by mistake. He’d texted to check in a few times since we’d broken up, but we were both busy, so I hadn’t heard from him in months.

“Lyla. Hey.”

I moved to the mirror, teased up the hair behind the headband, and then reached for the handmade purple and blue chandelier earrings I’d picked up at a street fair last year. Apparently Miles wasn’t going to say more thanhey.“How are you? How’s school?”

Speaking of school, I really need to check my grade for that lit test that totally snuck up on me. Surely I didn’t do as badly as it felt like I did.

“School’s good,” Miles said. “I’m busy, but my grades are good. And I like my professors.” NYU had always been Miles’s dream, and at one point I’d thought about going there, too. But I’d gotten more scholarships for BC and that pretty much sealed my fate. At first we told ourselves the distance wasn’tthatmuch and we could find a way to make it work, but that was before we tried to find the time to visit back and forth.

“Cool.” I slicked on some lip gloss and then glanced at the time. Beck should be here any minute.

“I miss you.”

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