Just your typical college romance with fake dating sprinkled on top, along with a little sparkle of forced proximity....and oh did I mention it's her best friends brother who she'll be dating? Her best friends brother who's the hockey team captain...
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"Fuckkkkkk." I mutter under my breath, internally slapping myself hard on the face. "Stupid. You are stupid." I point to myself in the mirror, glaring at my own reflection.
I run my hands down the side of my body, feeling the soft silky texture of the golden dress under my palm. There is a fundraising gala at the university today. The gala that I was told was a fucking party, courtesy of my fake boyfriend. Thank you very much.
Speaking of my fake man, I haven't talked to him in 4 days which is 97 whole hours. I did my best to ignore his presence and talk to him after I rode his fucking thigh after waking up. His thigh which was fucking stiff and bigger than mine and I'm a big girl with pretty thick thighs.
GOD HELP!
WHY WOULD I DO THAT?
Why wouldn't I?
Did I lose my brain cells? And I palmed his dick for fuck sake. His dick which I know is bigger than-a lot of people. I know that because I've touched it, I've seen it, had it in me too. I know how it felt to have him inside me, have my insides clench aro-STOP!
Forget the past. As someone intelligent once said.
I'm freaking out.
I have to see him again, his stupid annoying face and his stupid smirk.
The last four days, I did my best to come home late, wake up early and leave for university an hour before it starts, sitting in my car for that whole hour. Anything to avoid awkwardness, thanks to my morning horniness.
In my defense, everyone is horny in the morning and I was too, and he happened to be there. God, please kill me. Kill me now.
My panicky gaze falls on my reflection in the mirror, taking in my perfectly curled hair, the soft makeup, and the off-shoulder golden silk dress that reaches the floor. I turn my body, looking at the backside in the mirror, eyes falling to the back rolls I have, a tighter feeling forming in my chest, then my stomach which is clearly not flat and the body rolls are very much visible in the light-coloured dress.
I should've worn black.
A loud sigh leaves my mouth and I drop onto the little stool in the little walk-in wardrobe, about to rub my eyes but blanching when I realize I have makeup on. Well, double fuck. I can't pull on my hair either, it took two solid hours to curl them.
I clench my fists, before opening my hands and wiggling my fingers in front of my face, the red nails shining sharp. There's a soft knock on the door before it opens and my eyes fall to the person who just entered.
Gwyn stands at the closet door, waving at me. "Hey, girl." She smiles and I smile back at her. I take in Gwyn's form, the deep pink dress looking ravishing on her slim figure, her blonde hair in a low ponytail, and her soft makeup. She looks like a real-life Barbie, Victoria's Secret model. My eyes fall to my own reflection and I slightly cringe.
