Page 61 of In For a Penny
“Can I shower first?” he asks me.
I nod and toss him a clean towel from the basket of fresh laundry on my dresser.
“Want to shower with me?” he asks with a smirk.
I smile and shake my head. “No way,” I say. I know he doesn’t mean we wouldjustshower together. “I’m exhausted and hungry. No more sex tonight.”
I walk out of my bedroom, leaving him to his own devices, and head straight to the fridge, checking its contents. Nothing for us. I open the freezer and find some chicken nuggets I’ve been saving. Everything else is Allie’s. She’s so much better at cooking than I am. I take the box out and turn on the oven, leaning against the counter as the oven pre-heats. It shouldn’t take long, though. We were lucky enough to move into a place with new appliances, one of which is a fast-heating oven.
I hear the shower start in the bathroom and look out the window. My apartment might not be in the nicest neighborhood, but I will say one thing: it has the single most incredible view of Canary Wharf at night. I take a mental image of the metropolitan scene and catalog it in my mind so I can carry it with me forever. This might not be where I set roots for the rest of my life, but it feels like London has already become a part of my genetic makeup. It’s become a place where I’ve been able to grow and separate myself from the everyday bullshit of my old life. I think this place has already changed me.
I love this city. I love my apartment. I love the shitty neighborhood I live in. I love the London Underground queues and delays. I love my new friends, even when they give me shit.
I love the new Penny. The real-ass Penny. The give-no-fucks Penny.
I sigh happily at the quiet of the night, nothing but the sound of the shower in the background. You wouldn’t get this type of quiet in New York City at this time of night. Even if you went deeper into the busier parts of London, it would still be significantly calmer than New York.
I love you, New York, but London’s got you beat there.
Allie is out for the night, which is the only reason why I invited Oliver to sleep over. If she sees him, I know my roommate will somehow find a way to make this into a bigger deal than it actually is, whether it’s because he’s arepeator just because I’m trying to move on.
She doesn’t know that Oliver and I have been sleeping together before and after class every day this week. If I’m being brutally honest, there was also a little over-the-jeans action onceduringclass in a dark lecture, but I’m trying to forget I ever did that, because it is just too embarrassing. I don’t even know what came over me then.
It’s been great, but it’s like I’ve started this thing now, and I can’t stop.
The oven beeps to let me know it’s been pre-heated, and I dump the nuggets onto a cookie sheet, spreading them out evenly before sliding them carefully in. I check the instructions: seven minutes, flip them over, then another six minutes. I set the timer and lean back against the counter just as a shirtless, wet-haired Oliver walks into the kitchen, wearing nothing but his black underwear.
Damn.
“What are we having?” he asks happily, leaning next to me on the counter. He smells like my body wash.
He’s such a happy guy.
“Chicken nuggets,” I say, shrugging. “It’s the only thing I have.” He walks over to the fridge and opens it, looking over his shoulder at me, confused.
“This thing’s full! What are you talking about?”
“Roommate,” I say by way of explanation.
“That’s alright.” He smiles, walking slowly toward me. He places one hand on either side of me on the counter. “I happen tolovechicken nuggets.”
I want to say something sarcastic about how he manages to make every sentence out of his mouth sound suggestive, but my thoughts are interrupted when he leans in to kiss me. It starts off slow, seductive. He bites my lip, and my breathing starts to speed as he slips one hand into my robe to my waist, and my hands grip his shoulders. I moan into his mouth, and he takes that as a sign to press on, slipping one leg in between both of my legs.
Slowly, and without breaking the kiss, he starts pulling on the tie of my robe. He starts to laugh quietly in my mouth, and I know why. “You’re thinking about the vintage shop in Notting Hill, aren’t you?” I ask with a laugh, recalling the moment with the black cashmere coat, our mouths so close together our lips never lose contact.
“Yes.” He smirks. “I wanted to fuck you so bad then. I would have pushed you into the changing room and done it right then and there if I wasn’t doing the noble thing of trying to set you up with my friend.”
I feel a sudden pang in my stomach as Josh pops into my head. I try to push him out and focus on what’s happening, but it’s difficult. Luckily, Oliver makes it a little easier by grabbing me by the waist with both hands and hoisting me onto the counter. He settles in between my legs and kisses me so hard it almost hurts. Oliver’s right hand slides over my skin inside my robe while his left goes to my right thigh, spreading my legs farther apart.
Oh, yes.
He opens my robe completely, pushing it off my shoulders, kissing down my neck, my chest, my stomach…
I lean back on my hands because I know where he’s going, andyes, andoh my God, andmore, andyour tongue, andplease,anddon’t stop,and—
“What the fuck?!” I sit up as Oliver straightens. The smoke detector in the kitchen has gone off, bringing my orgasm to a screeching halt. It’s only then that I notice the smell and fumes in the kitchen.
The chicken nuggets! Fuck my life.
