17
“Shhh,” Riggs whispers when I reach for him. “I’ve got to hit the gym.”
“What time is it?” I mumble into my pillow.
“Almost five.”
“Ugh, gross, go away.”
I hear him laugh, the bed shifts, and then a light touch runs down my naked back, fingertips ghosting over my forehead and the shell of my ear.
“Sleep, Sundance.”
It takes about ten minutes after he leaves for me to sit up and freak out.
Oh hell.
Oh. Hell.
I snag my phone off the charger and call Ivy. She answers on the fourth ring.
“Bailey? Is everything okay?” Her voice is scratchy from sleep, but she’s alert.
“Yeah, sorry for waking you. Everything is fine.” I wince. “Well, it’s not fine, but I’m not, like, in physical danger or anything.” I wince again. “Well, not serious physical danger...”
The line is quiet for a moment, just the sound of deep breathing, and then I hear bedsheets rustling, low whispered voices, and a door clicking shut.
“You slept with him.” It’s not even a question. She’s that freakin’ good.
“How the fuck do you do that?”
She giggles. Damn her.
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, how do you feel?”
“Sore.”
She snorts out another laugh. “No, I don’t mean how your vagina feels. I mean how’s your head? How are we handling this?”
I love how she does this. Every obstacle, every complication, it’s we. How are we going to tackle this issue, how are we going to solve this problem, because with Ivy in your corner, you’ll never have to go through anything alone unless you want to.
“I have no idea,” I answer honestly. “I don’t regret it, but now I’m worried that I want to do it again.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Hell yeah, it’s a bad thing,” I squeak. “He’s a liar, V. I can’t let my head get all wrapped up in him again.”
“Your head or your hear—”
“Nope. Don’t say it.”
She hums, then switches her approach.
“So, the sex was good, then?”
“Phenomenal. I fucking hate it.” I groan. “I don’t know if I want to choke him to death with my bare hands or choke myself to blackout on his dick. It’s very inconvenient for me.”
Her tinkling laugh makes me smile, and I groan again.
“What the hell am I gonna do, V?”
“Only you know what’s best for you, Bails. If you want to sleep with him again, and you think it’s something you can do without risking your, um, head...then do what you want, you know?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“You’re the hero here, B. This is your story.”
“So, what you’re saying is if I want the D, I should take the D,” I deadpan, and she laughs again.
“If you want the D, then take the D. Just, you know, be careful.” Her voice drops. “Make sure he’s worth it.”
“Worth what?”
“Worth the risk.”
And that’s the ten-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it?