The Last Person

“Wait … what?”

A cringe wrinkles her face. “Sorry. It seemed like no big deal at the time.”

“To lie to me?” I swivel in the chair and shoot her a look that she doesn’t want if she knows what’s good for her.

She shrugs. “Sorry.”

“Did you give the money to the gym?”

“Um … well …”

“Did he pay for a day pass?”

“Oh, yeah.” She sighs like that’s my only concern, like I’m not going to report her to Linda. “He bought a year membership. The fifty was for me.”

I narrow my eyes at her. We are not finished, but I have something else I need to do first. After brushing past her, I scan the gym for Eric. My gaze snags on the first shirtless guy and of course it’s him. He’s watching a girl climb. As I get closer, I notice it’s the employee from his shop.

“Hey.”

He turns when he hears my voice. “Hey.”

“A word, please.”

“Harper, I’ll be right back,” he says to the girl climbing.

I lead him to the single stall restroom, peek inside and nod for him to follow me when I see it’s empty. When the door closes behind us, I lock it and ball my hands. “You owe this gym a thousand dollars.”

He grins. “Nine hundred and fifty.”

“A thousand. Kenzie kept your bribe, asshole. And you wasted an hour of my life.”

“I miss you.” His attention drifts to my mouth.

“You know … it’s funny how you managed to lie about paying this gym a grand for my service, but you couldn’t lie about how much you detested a book.”

“It’s just a—”

I shake my head. “No. I’m so tired of everyone saying it’s just a book. If it were just a book, then why not say something nice or not say anything at all? Why not show a little respect for my opinion and the opinions of other people in the group who like the book. Don’t act like you’re such a saint for telling the ‘truth’ about just a book, then turn around and lie to get to spend time with me. One word …” I hold up a finger. “You ended us with one word.”

“You told me to say it.”

“Not that word!” I press my hands to the side of my head.

“Freya said there was no right or wrong answer.”

“Freya lied!”

Eric’s brows fly up his forehead and his head snaps backward. After several silent seconds, his shock settles into something …

Something that makes the hairs on my skin stand erect.

Something that arrests all of my thoughts.

Those piercing eyes go from wide to tiny little pinpoints. “I think I know what you need.”

“N-no … I don’t think you do. In fact—”

Fuck! NOOOOO!

He kisses me. Number one rule to break ups: NO. MORE. KISSING!

He’s terrible at breaking up.

Terrible at leaving his lips off of mine.

Terrible at knowing when to lie and when to tell the truth.

Eric Fucking Steinmann …

I’m an addict. He’s an enabler. When I die of bad decisions, it will be his fault. In the meantime, I let him kiss me.

I kiss him back.

He shoves his hand down my leggings and panties. I try to protest, but I’m already too high.

Not too high to think about his hand covered in chalk.

He’s shoving his chalk fingers into my vagina!

And … I’m letting him.

How will I explain this to my gyno guy?

So much explaining to do …

Pissed off Anna.

Shirtless Eric.

A kiss.

Chalk fingers in vagina.

Painful fumbling to free one of Anna’s legs from her leggings.

Eric plants Anna’s bare ass on the edge of the sink.

Cock exposed.

Cock in now chalky vagina.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Fastest orgasm record broken.

Sorry, it’s the only way I can make sense of total loss of control. Letting my mind see it from the outside—third person. I am too controlled to let something so irresponsible and spontaneous happen while on the clock, but that Anna girl … she has issues.

A weird reality sets in after the blinding orgasm stars disappear, after he comes inside of me, and it’s just two, really stupid millennials half naked in a compromising position with a tiny sink.

I can’t let go of him. It’s his labored breath and mine. My arms around his neck and my mouth still pressed to his shoulder, just with less teeth. Eric’s grip on my spread thighs eases a little, but he stays inside of me.

Holy. Fucking. Stupid! What have we done?

His lips brush along my ear as he releases a slow, guilty sigh. “I was tested six months ago. I’m clean.”

I cringe. How did I let this happen? What is wrong with me? I have never had to have the I’m-clean-you’re-clean-it’s-all-good conversation.

“Well …” I move my mouth from his shoulder and replace it with my forehead, closing my eyes. “I took a shower this morning, and I don’t have chalk on my fingers. That’s my level of assured cleanliness. This is the first time I’ve had unprotected sex, so … I’ve never felt the need to get tested. Sorry.”