Page 22 of Patiently Yours
I force my hands above my head as I walk to my desk. What can I do to distract my shameful hands?
I pick up my latest read and open it to the latest chapter and widen my eyes at the explicit description of the female main character giving her two boyfriends a simultaneous blow job. I read the first few lines and then drop it on my desk.
Now I remember why I didn’t finish the scene last night. I was reading when suddenly the two boyfriends morphed into Ciro and an unknown face that had a coconut scent.
“You’ve even ruined reading for me, you monster,” I say to my reflection on the wall. I have swollen eye bags from my sleep being interrupted and my hair is in a sex-frenzy. I grab my brush to sort through the heavy knots.
Finally, an acceptable and innocent activity that I can do with my hands.
My omega suddenly pictures an attentive alpha brushing our hair for us.We’ve got a deadline, and there’s not enough time to make ourselves look presentable. He asks us to let him take care of us before taking the brush and gently caressing through the knots until our hair becomes smooth and silky once more.
I shake my head of the outlandish thoughts before throwing my brush across the room. Looks like there’s only one thing left to do to distract me from my crisis.
I sit down at my desk and pull out my textbook. It’s Friday, but maybe I’ll thank myself for getting ahead of my homework schedule. Especially because I loathe my astronomy class.
You’d think learning about space would seem straightforward and easy, but nope. There’s just so much information in such a short period of time, and not to mention the unexpected math.
I’m already lying my head on my textbook, bored out of my mind. I want to focus, but my omega wants to throw images of faceless men at me instead, which certainly appeals to me a lot more than whatever this chapter is about.
I sigh heavily before grabbing my phone. I hesitate and my forehead condensates with nerves as I click on the text chain with Ciro. I type a few different texts before sending one abruptly without double-checking.
“Shit.”
Stacia (5:57 pm) Hey! When’s the next hockey game? I was wondering if you’d like to hang out again.
I facepalm. That has to be the lamest text ever sent in the history of texting. I start to write more, and then another, until there’s a whole list of mistakes staring right at my face.
Stacia (5:58 pm) If you knew when the hockey game was, I meant! I had a lot of fun and I thought maybe we could do it again
Stacia (5:58 pm) But only if you want to
Stacia (5:59 pm) If you didn’t, I wouldn’t want to
Stacia (5:59 pm) I meant I wouldn’t want to force you to do something you wouldn’t want!
Stacia (6:00 pm) Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m really blowing this aren’t I?
I reread them and let out a ghastly shriek. I throw my phone at the bed, still in a state of horror at what I’ve done. Also, if I keep throwing things around, I won’t know where anything is.
I scowl at my hand yet again and point at it with my opposing finger. “I swear you have a mind of your own. Don’t you fucking play with me.” I sigh heavily and feel my forehead dramatically, feeling faint. “Why the fuck did I do that?”
I screech again when I hear a familiar chirp come from my phone across the room. I stare in its general direction. Do I really want to voluntarily fuck up my night even more by seeing his response to my idiocracy? I’ll hyper fixate on it and then blame myself for ruining what could have been if I just took two more seconds to read what I was sending.
But I’ll also hyper fixate on it if Idon’tread it. If it’s insanely douchey, I can just leave him on read. Wait, do I even have my read-receipts on? I’m not sure.
Before I can decide, another chirp comes from the phone. I stalk over slowly and pluck my phone from within the confines of my comforter. I hold it to my chest, not daring to peek just yet. He probably doesn’t want to see me anymore. He’s probably realizing that every conversation we’ll ever have is going to be like pulling teeth: uncomfortable and waiting for it to be over.
Fuck, Stacia, just rip the fucking bandaid off!
I take a deep breath and turn my phone up from my chest. The words are blurry for a moment, but the second they clear I am gaping at his response.
Ciro (6:03 pm) You’re cute, you know that?
Ciro (6:05 pm) Their next game is tomorrow! Butttt we’re having our monthly game night tonight and would love if you joined us! Do you want to stop by?
I stare at the texts in disbelief. I was spiraling for no reason.
Story of my fucking life.
