Taking Chances by Ann Omasta Chapter 13

 

Online Book “Taking Chances” Chapter 13:

I awoke alone and immediately missed the feeling of Seth’s warm, bare skin against me. I turned to find a lavender Post-It note on the pillow beside me. It had a giant heart drawn on it and was signed simply, “S.”

 

 

He had obviously been in my bathroom and seen my circle of encouraging reminder notes on the mirror. A wave of embarrassment overcame me as I realized how silly that must seem to someone who had every reason to be completely self-confident.

 

 

Shaking my head at myself for not remembering to take down this humiliating display of my inferiority complex, I padded into the bathroom and added Seth’s heart to the mirror. He had seen one of my quirks and hadn’t left the room screaming. In fact, he had added a sweet note for my collection, so I decided to do my best not to worry about it.

 

 

I stretched and grinned at my mussed reflection. I looked like a woman who had spent the entire night cuddling and screwing, which is exactly who I was, and it felt grand.

 

 

I was in such a great mood that I had to share it with someone, so I went to Courtney’s room and pounced on her bed. Tabitha scampered off the bed as soon as she saw me coming, then whirled around to give me a quick hiss before stalking out of the room.

 

 

Court pulled her pillow over her head and told me to go away unless I had brought caffeine with me. I chuckled at her morning grumpiness and burrowed under the covers beside her. When she finally opened one eye to look at me, she said, “You look like you’ve been well-fucked.”

 

 

I had never heard that term before, but it described me perfectly. So I responded, grinning. “Very well.”

 

 

Court grunted as she flopped over on her side. “I haven’t been well-fucked in over a week. Or even decently-fucked. Or so-so-fucked,” she grouched. “I guess my vajayjay has to live vicariously through yours now.”

 

 

I smiled at her. “You know a one-week dry spell isn’t really that bad.” I decided this might be a good time to delicately bring up the Joe idea to gauge her reaction. “If it really bothers you, though, maybe you should look for a longer term relationship where you get well-fucked by the same guy on a regular basis.”

 

 

“I can’t seem to find a man that I can put up with for any length of time. Besides,” she added, “spend too long with one person, and it quickly transforms into getting boring-fucked. I’m not interested in the same old, same old for the rest of my days.”

 

 

I decided to jump in with both feet. “Yes, but if you’re with someone you really care about, that can keep the spark alive. For instance, what if you were with someone like Joe?”

 

 

I watched her reaction closely and was surprised to see her eyes soften, even though her words contradicted them. “Joe?!? He’s my boss. That would be totally inappropriate. Besides, he would never be interested in someone like me.”

 

 

“Since when do you care about inappropriate? And what do you mean someone like you? Someone who is kind, loving, generous, gorgeous, funny, smart and sweet? Yeah, why would he be interested in someone like that?” I rolled my eyes to emphasize the sarcasm of my last comment.

 

 

“You’re biased because you love me.” She shoved my arm playfully, but then turned serious. “Joe deserves to be with someone better than me. Someone who is pure, good, and solid.” She paused to look at me. “Someone like you. I’m white trash from the wrong side of the tracks, and I have the physical and emotional scars to prove it.”

 

 

“Sweetie, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I hate that you have this warped view of yourself. You are the most amazing person I know.” We both had teary eyes, so I grabbed the tissue box from her bedside table and sat it between us. “Joe sees it.” I nodded in confirmation, at her questioning look.

 

 

As we hugged, I decided not to ruin this great conversation with any talk about my lewd encounter with Sam at the museum. There would be plenty of time to tell her about that fiasco later.

 

 

Lightening the tone of our conversation, Court said, “If you’re going to wake me up at the butt-crack of dawn, the least you could do is bring coffee.”

 

 

I shook my head at her as I got up. “9:30 is hardly the butt-crack of dawn, Lazy Bones.” I tossed the words over my shoulder on my way to make her brew. Then I ducked and easily avoided the pillow she threw my way.


>> Chapter 14

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