Page 50 of Hide and Seek
Ice clinks in my glass as Izzy and I hit the pre-drinks as hard as possible, preparing for one hell of a good night at whatever bar or club she decides to drag me to. Honestly, she’s told me the name of it three times already, and I still haven’t got the slightest idea where we are going.
“Have you ever tried waxing your own cooch?” she muses as she leans in toward my bathroom mirror to apply a second coat of mascara as I struggle to dress myself.
“Uhhh . . . What?”
“Well, have you?” she pushes. “I was reading this book, and on the very first page, the girl was talking about how she tried waxing and tore her whole lip off, and then her brother had to drive her to the emergency room while she was spread-eagle with wax, hair, and half her lip hanging off. It was traumatic, and I just feel you need to be careful with this shit.”
“What kind of pussy traumatizing books are you reading?”
Iz scoffs and laughs. “Hey, that’s tame. The book I read last week had the girl accidentally use a taser on her vag, thinking she’d picked up one of those little vibrators. Nowthatwas traumatizing. I had to check through my bottom drawer to make sure I didn’t accidentally put a taser in there. I don’t want that shit happening to me.”
“Do you even own a taser?”
“No,” she laughs. “But a girl can never be too careful.”
“Cheers to that,” I say, lifting my glass and taking a healthy sip, welcoming the burn of vodka sailing down my throat. Taking the drink with me, I head into my closet for a pair of shoes, but I hesitate over the first pair and grab another. “Which shoes am I supposed to wear with this?”
“Show me,” Iz calls back.
Taking my shoes for a stroll across my small apartment, I hover in the bathroom doorway, holding them up and waiting for Izzy’s approval, because let’s face it, when Izabelle Grace Davenport is around, she must have final approval of every materialistic portion of my life. I won’t have it any other way.
Izzy glances toward the options, her face twisting in disgust. “Are you serious?” she scolds. “You bring me an old pair of sandals that are falling to pieces over a pair of sexy knee-high boots. There is no option. Throw those rank sandals out.”
“Hey. They’re my favorite,” I say, realizing I left my drink in my closet.
“You’re such a liar. There’s a layer of dust caked on them. The last time you wore them, your mom was still pregnant with you.” Iz laughs at herself, and honestly, I’m right there with her. Where the hell does she get this shit from? “Don’t think for one moment that I haven’t noticed you didn’t answer my question.”
My mind goes blank, and I try to figure out what the hell she’s talking about. “What question?” I demand, tossing the sandals over my shoulder and backing up to drop my ass on my couch toput my boots on, only I miss and end up on the floor. Maybe I’ve gone a little too hard on the pre-drinks.
“Waxing your own coochie? Don’t tell me you do that.”
I scoff. “No, this coochie has been lasered to silky smooth perfection,” I tell her, certain she already knew that. “In my younger years, I’ve been known to give the good old Brazilian wax a try, and let me tell you, it was a horrendous disaster every single time. Zero out of five stars. I do not recommend.”
Izzy howls with laughter from the bathroom. “Was it a leg propped up on the bathtub kind of situation, or a towel on the ground and a mirror staring right at your bush?”
My cheeks flush, heating with embarrassment, but when it comes to me and Iz, nothing is off limits. “I’m ashamed to say all three.”
“Three?” she laughs, sticking her head out of the bathroom and gaping at me. “I only said two. What’s the third option?”
My phone rings from somewhere in the kitchen, and I drag my ass off the floor, one boot off and one boot on. “Saved by the bell,” I laugh, hurrying to find my phone and cursing myself for not leaving it on the counter like a normal fucking person.
“What? No! What’s the third option?”
I ignore Iz as I dig through drawers and check the pantry before finally looking in the freezer and finding my chilled phone hanging out by the Oreo ice cream. Big & Long Schlong #2 appears on my screen, and I swipe my thumb across the screen, accepting the call.
“Oh heyyyyy,” I drawl, holding the phone away from my face as I search the screen for the little FaceTime button.
“What . . . What the hell are you doing?”
“Turn your camera on, Mr. Big and Long Schlong number two.”
Laith groans. “You know damn well I’m not number two,” he says as his dazzling smile appears on my screen. “Don’t you think it’s about time I get prime position at the top?”
“Ooooh, no can do,” I tease, taking Laith along with me into the bathroom so Izzy can say hi as she continues working on her makeup. “I’m actually thinking of demoting you to number three. Actually, potentially number four. The jury’s still out on that one.”
His jaw drops, and as Izzy’s brows furrow, I realize I’ve said too much. She knows all about my thrilling few days with the alluring Knight Slater, but I haven’t said a word about the man who appeared in my bedroom, demanding I play a twisted game of hide and seek that ended with me coming hard on his thick fingers.
“Four?” Laith sputters. “How the—just how many dicks have you been riding? I know it’s been a little while since I blew your mind last, but shit, tiger. I think my feelings are hurt.”
