Matrimony Homies

40: Couldn't Be (Loren)

On Monday night, he FaceTimes me with an opening line of "I missed you."

"Harry, it's not even been 12 hours since I left you in London." Despite my admonishing words and tone, a smile of pleasure drifts across my face because, honestly, his words have caused me to melt into a puddle of ice cream on a summer's day when it drips down the cone and onto your hand while you're frantically trying to capture it all with your tongue.

"So? I can still miss you." His pout is adorable, and I wish I could reach through the screen, scrunch his cheeks between my palms and press my lips to his. He's the best boyfriend I've ever had. I don't deserve him.

My blush spreads, reddening my cheeks, as I look at my lap and whisper, "I missed you too."

"How was the rest of your day?"

"Well...to be honest, nothing has topped the way it started," I tease as I recall my legs wrapped around his waist as he drove into me this morning. We'd gone at it so hard that there were marks on the wall where the bed had banged.

And I am not ashamed.

"Same," he murmurs. "Wish I could be there with you now. What's for dinner?"

I hold up my vegetable puff pie. "Freezer food."

"Yum," he grins with a face that contradicts his words.

"It's your fault, you know," I accuse.

"How do you figure that?"

"Before we started spending every weekend together, I used to do meal prep on the weekend. Sometimes that meant making a pot of soup or my own puff pies to put in the freezer, but now I'm stuck with what I can get at the store."

"Hmmm...sounds like this weekend we've got some cooking to do."

"You're coming this weekend?"

"Multiple times, I hope." He waggles his eyebrows, and I groan loudly. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you do too."

My vagina twitches in anticipation. Rolling my eyes for show, though, I take a bite of my meal. "And you? What are you having for dinner?"

Harry holds up a plate filled with a salad, salmon on the side. Loudly, my stomach growls, and I cover it with my palm.

"Sounds like someone would like what I'm having," he taunts.

"Shut up, H. I'm perfectly happy with my meal."

But when my tummy grumbles again, we both burst into laughter.

"Ugh, I don't wanna go to work tonight," I whine as Gemma and I walk home from school on Monday, Harry trailing behind us with Jonny and another friend.

"Hey, Loren," Jonny calls, "I heard you went out on Saturday with Pete. How was he?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I bark over my shoulder. "We just went to the movies like everyone else."

"Mhm," Jonny mocks, "Heard the two of you were snogging through the whole movie, and that he got to touch your tits."

"Jonny!" Both Gemma and Harry reprimand.

"Oh, please, H. Like you weren't talking about it earlier."

The betrayal makes my stomach clench, and rather than exposing my wounds to the group, I draw back my shoulders and poke my breasts out in front of me as far as I can – which really isn't that far. I'm a solid B cup who prefers to claim a small C cup.

"Poor Jonny. Jealous that no girl will let you touch her tits?"

"Lor!" Gemma whispers. "Stop it. They're just kids."