Page 47 of In For a Penny
It has been two dayssince my Saturday of sex with Oliver, and I am happy to report not much has changed in our friendship. Besides a slight increase in suggestive comments on Oliver’s side in our text exchanges (carnal knowledge has made him more creative and graphic), things have been great and have stayed pretty much the same. Apart from the several instances in which he has requested I send him nudes (I haven’t), there is no awkwardness whatsoever, making me feel like perhaps this whole thing might not turn out to be a colossal mistake.
Maybe casual sex without feelings is possible with the right person, and all the rom-coms have it wrong. I can totally do this. And I totally want to.
Over the weekend, I thought about how completely mind-blowing Saturday had been.We had sex, ate breakfast, napped, had sex again, ordered Domino’s pizza for lunch, which we ate naked in bed while watching Netflix, slept, and had sex one more time. I am sore, that’s for sure. But sore in a fantastic way. It was like my body suddenly remembered what sex was like and decided it needed it to survive—and a lot of it at that.
It was crazy how fast we got to know each other physically, and I could already respond to his cues and Oliver to mine without thinking. I don’t believe I’ve ever had that experience with any of my other partners, except for maybe my two exes, and that was after some practice. It was like he could read my mind and knew exactly what to do and how to do it. He didn’t need Google Maps to find anything down there—if you know what I mean—and he could tell what kind of mood I was in.
I hate to think about it and would never admit it out loud, but Oliver’s sexual prowess is not to be underestimated.
I could write a full Yelp review of his many talents.
Stamina, creativity, strength, kinkiness, sheer skill.
This is gonna be good. I’ve thought about it these past couple of days and decided this morning that I’m not going to back out of our agreement. For that reason, I currently find myself headed out of the school infirmary after my testing appointment. It’s not truly fair to have Oliver abide by specific rules but then not have these rules apply to me. He’s right, of course—I can’t be that big of a hypocrite.
But still. No one likes getting tested for STDs. I’m an adult, I know, but it will always be a little bit embarrassing.
The infirmary is located in the main building, right by the cafeteria. This means that anyone seated at the right table while having lunch can see the infirmary entrance.I don’t think anyone I know saw me go in, and I pray to God no one sees me come out. I don’t want any questions or to have anyone find out who I’m sleeping with at the moment.
I dash out of the waiting room and try to put as many feet as possible between me and the entrance until I hear someone from behind me call my name.
Fuuuuuckkkkk, seriously?
I wince before turning around. I know exactly who it is.
“Josh. Hi…”
“Hey,” he says with a huge smile. He’s so nice. Why is he always so nice? “Are you okay? I saw you leaving the infirmary. You’re not sick, are you?” he asks with concern.
So sweet.
He’s wearing a printed long sleeve t-shirt withMauiwritten on it, highlighting his shoulders.
When did he get broad shoulders?
His jeans are ripped, and his shoes are worn. His dirty-blond hair is ruffled, and he looks rather cute today. Josh’s wardrobe is lacking, but he’s one makeover and a good clean shave away from being really handsome.
Whoa. Stop. Nope. Nope.
All the sex this weekend is just making me think about more sex.
Calm down, Crazy.
I laugh awkwardly. “No, no. All good. Just a check-up, you know,” I lie, feeling guilty.
He furrows his brow, his green eyes expressing concern. “Check-up? Isn’t the infirmary supposed to be more for, like, an urgent care thing?”
I can literally never get away with a lie with this man. Can he not let anything slide?
“Um... Sure, sure,” I say quickly, trying to sidestep this conversation. “Hey, how about I buy you a beer, huh? Do you have class?” I link my arm through his and drag him in the general direction of the student union pub on campus.
He raises an eyebrow at me, reluctantly dropping the subject.
Here’s the thing about Josh: he is hyper-aware of everything, which has made him an incredible friend. It’s also become somewhat of a problem for me sometimes because he seems to be tuned in to everything I’m feeling. And his powers have only gotten stronger since game night. I don’t like feelings, and knowing someone as sweet and caring as Josh can tell every emotion going through me without me having to speak a single word is—like I’ve said before—overwhelming. And also a little scary. I don’t feel comfortable. And since he’s such a good person and can tell that I am not feeling even the slightest like myself, he’ll try to talk to me and make me feel better.
I know I’m being ridiculous. I should be ecstatic to have such a good friend who can tell when he’s needed and is so supportive, but I can’t handle it from him for some reason. It’s too much. It’s way too much. I’m more of a fan of repressing my emotions.
“Uh, sure, I’ll take a beer,” he says, walking with me.
