Page 162 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
“Was that okay?” Dove asked, her voice soft as she dragged the blanket over us, shielding my naked body from the evening air. She sounded only slightly worried, her fingers moving to dance across my stomach in a way that made it quiver.
“Yeah,” I murmured, my voice soft and a little raspy. “That was… I can’t believe I was going to allow myself to… to not experience that.”
Dove looked at me quizzically. “You’ve had an orgasm before, though, right?”
“No,” I said with a frown. “I told you Alexis and I never—”
“No, I know that,” Dove rushed to say. “I mean—like, you’ve touched yourself before, right?”
My cheeks flushed, and I wanted to roll my eyes at myself. I had literally had her fingers inside me not even sixty seconds ago, and I was blushing overmasturbation?
“Not really,” I mumbled. “No. I mean, I was on antidepressants for literally years, plus all the other stuff I’ve had to take. I’ve never really had the… urge.”
Dove blinked at me before a wicked grin spread across her face.
“Did I give you theurge, Ellis Langley?”
I shoved her chest. “Shut up. I’m not on specific drugs anymore. I’ve been feeling all sorts of new things.”
Speaking of feeling things… My gaze drifted over her exposed upper body, my thumb brushing along her bare shoulder. I wasn’t entirely sure if I was ready to… give. Did that make me awful in bed? I didn’t know what I was doing with her, didn’t know even half of what I was sure she was capable of doing to me.
“Hey.” Her voice was soft, almost coaxing, as she brushed a strand of hair from my face. “There’s no pressure to do anything else, okay? I’m honestly happy to just cuddle and go to sleep. We can make this one all aboutyou.”
I looked into her warm brown eyes, wondering how I had ever thought anything unkind about her—this kind, gentle, maddeninglyknowinghuman being who made my shoulders drop every goddamn second I spent in her presence.
She leaned in, her lips brushing mine—just a kiss, light and certain—before she slid in behind me on the bed. Her arm curled around my waist, tugging me into the solid line of her body. The heat of her pressed against my back, the faint scent of her shampoo, the slow rhythm of her breathing—everything settled into me, sinking deep. She pressed her lips to the curve of my neck and exhaled softly, her breath warm against my skin.
I let my hand find hers, guiding it up until our fingers laced. I tucked them under my chin, holding them there like a secret. My eyes fluttered closed, and something terrifying and unstoppable unfurled in my chest.
I think I loved Dove Marley.
DOVE
Tip #26: When an older couple shares their secret, listen to them. It’s a postcard from your future.
The bridge rose ahead of us, long and sun-bleached after years of exposure, stretching across the Colorado River like a fine line. Once we crossed, we’d be in California, the final state of this road trip. My hands tightened on the wheel at the thought that the journey was nearly over. I glanced up at the endless blue sky, the light seeming to go on forever, the hum of the tires mixing with the rush of air from the open top of the car.
“We are officially four hours out from Santa Monica,” Ellis announced, her voice slipping into something low and theatrical, treating her words like a train station announcement. “End of the line, people. Please gather your belongings and mind the gap.”
A smirk tugged at my mouth as I glanced at her. “You’re such a dork.”
Ellis poked her tongue out in response.
Liv shifted in the backseat, her face pale, even for a ghost. “I wish we’d gone to Jedd’s last night,” she groaned. “Now I’ve had too much time to think about it. I feel like I’ve talked myself out of it.”
“Well, don’t,” I told her. “I need him to sort Margaret’s remaining ashes for me. We’ve got four hours for you to panic before we get to Santa Monica. We need our final photo at the pier, and we need to feed Ellis. Then we go to Jedd’s. Then your mom.”
“No,” Liv cut in sharply. “Jedd’s first, so we can get the fireworks. And the boat. I’m not missing Margaret.”
I nodded once. “Okay.”
Liv huffed and folded her arms, staring out the window as the last stretch of bridge blurred past. River water filled my senses as we drove, and I sighed. The air had been so clean on this trip—so different from back home, congested with city smells.
Ellis shifted beside me, propping her feet up on the dash, sunglasses over her eyes as “The Subway” by Chappell Roan blasted through the speakers. Her hair caught in the wind, floating like delicate strands of silk, and I watched as she absentmindedly brushed them away, staring at the horizon as if she could already see the end of the line.
If I were to sit this Ellis beside the version I’d first met at the beginning of the trip, I would hardly recognize her. She was no longer the overly careful, coiled girl who measured every word before she spoke. Now she seemed looser, easier in her body, as if she’d stopped bracing against the world and finally let it move around her.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
