Dear Love, I Hate You (Easton High)

Then I hear the front door slam downstairs.

“Girls?” my mom shouts.

Shit.

Not again.

“Ashley?” she calls.

Xav and I trade glances, but my mom’s arrival doesn’t put him off for a second. On the contrary, he picks up the tempo, working my clit twice as fast.

“Aveena?” my mother yells from the kitchen. “Girls, I need your help with the groceries.”

Footsteps.

She’s approaching the stairs.

“Xav, she’s close,” I pant, certain he’s going to admit defeat and sneak out my window before she catches us.

He doesn’t budge.

If anything, his circles only grow rougher.

Then he smirks, guides his mouth to my ear, and whispers, “So are you.”

That’s what sends me over the edge.

The feeling ignites in my toes, climbing up my legs in a flash. My orgasm is so intense I just can’t keep quiet. Xavier instantly smacks his palm against my mouth as he continues to work my clit, which only makes my climax more intense. The second I stop shaking, my mother’s footsteps roar up the stairs.

My room is closest to the staircase.

She’s definitely coming to check on me first.

“Aveena?”

I’m. So. Dead.

Xav draws his fingers out of me, his parting gift a sharp thrust, and I respond with a full-body shudder.

“Hide,” I mouth, my head foggy from coming so hard. Xav gives me a satisfied, cocky grin and throws the closet open before disappearing into a pile of clean clothes I didn’t put away. I bend forward to pluck my shorts off the ground and stuff my legs into each hole. Xavier’s barely shut my closet door when Mom waltzes into my room.

“Aveena, I’ve been calling you, did you not hear me?” Mom critiques as soon as she comes in. Here I am, with my back still pressed to the wall, my breathing erratic, and my shorts-covered thighs coated with my own arousal. I smile at her, acting like she didn’t almost walk in on the captain of the basketball team getting me off.

“Is everything okay?” Mom worries. “Why are you breathing so hard?”

“Oh, I just… finished working out,” I lie.

“Honey, that’s great,” she rejoices. “I assume that means your migraines have cleared up and you’ll be going back to school tomorrow?”

Man, I didn’t think this through.

“Sure.” I cringe.

“Will you come help me with the groceries for dinner?”

“Of course.” I pause. “Wait… you’re not ordering in?”

Mom gives a shy smile. “Not tonight. I thought it’d be nice if we got together and cooked your dad’s favorite. What do you think?”