Dancer's Body

Chapter 27

There was a soreness between her legs that she'd never felt before. His scruff has emblazoned a tender redness across her cheek, her lips seemingly permanently swollen. Still, she kissed him goodbye hungrily. Olivia couldn't wipe the wide smile off her face as he dropped her off at home.

A package was waiting at her door with a California address. "Happy birthday!" Hannah's card read: "Sorry I've been AWOL camping with the fam. (No internet!?!?). I hope you had an amazing bday, and we'll celebrate when I get back. What did Wyatt get you? Love and rockets, H."

Wyatt. Damn, she hadn't even told Hannah yet. What will Hannah say when she finds out all that's happened?

Olivia ran a soothing bath, complete with a vanilla-scented bath bomb. Soaking in the tub, she explored the puffy lips of her labia. Even in the warm water, she could feel the slickness of her and Roman's juices still stuck to her. She sighed and submerged her head.

Wrapped in a fluffy towel, her hair twisted up, she rehearsed how she'd introduce everything to Hannah. Would she be happy for her? Shocked for sure. Disappointed?

She splayed herself on the couch, but Hannah's phone went straight to voicemail. Damn.

Olivia was antsy, the memories of the morning dancing through her head. I have to tell someone! Her mom was out of the question, always quick to talk openly about sex. Too openly, most of the time. Sometimes she wondered if her mom's free-love attitude is partially what had made Olivia so skittish about sex. Once she'd hit middle school, she shut down any sex talk from her mom entirely—though she was still forced to listen at times.

"Well?? Did the flowers work?" Her phone shone with Nyla's name.

"Can you come over?" she texted back.

"Hey!" Nyla said, flying through the door. "So, did my scheme pay off? Oh, my God! What happened to you?"

"Oh!" Olivia's hand moved to her bruised neck, her chapped face. Ropes of damp hair hung down her back. "I'm fine!" she said. "It looks bad, doesn't it?"

"Did you get your ass kicked? What happened?"

"No! No, it was—Roman took me out last night. For my birthday."

"Oh, really?" Nyla asked, a smile playing at her face. "And ... "

"We went to some Moroccan place for dinner. There were belly dancers, a huge five course meal, everything."

"Sounds fancy," Nyla said, grabbing a water out of the fridge.

"Then I made him take me to a club."

"You're kidding," Nyla said, unscrewing the cap. "Roman? At a club? I can't picture it."

"Yeah, well. I don't think he was particularly happy about it."

"So?"

"I, uh, drank too much," Olivia said, embarrassed.

"Well, duh, it was your twenty-first birthday."

"No, I mean, like way too much. I snuck away to the bar and got some disgustingly strong cocktail with a shot on the side, even after, like, four drinks already."

"Damn! How are you awake right now?" Nyla sat next to her on the couch. "Can I?" she asked, reaching for the bag of chocolates on the table.

"Yeah. And that's not all ..."

"Don't tell me," Nyla said. "You went back to his place and got all up in that all night."

"Uhm, not really."