I stare at him. “You do write the prettiest lines…”
He rolls his eyes. “Please,” he says. “Babe…it’s so different with you.”And I know it is, Justin. I’m just not convinced you really realize how different this is.I shrug and walk my fingers over his chest. He shifts underneath me, leaning over and grabbing his jeans from the floor, fishing his phone from his pocket before he flops down on the pillow. “Come here, gorgeous.”
He pulls me back onto his chest and holds his phone out with his free hand. “Smile,” he says before snapping several selfies and immediately flipping through them. “Care if I put these on my page?” I glance at the screen. All that’s in the frame are our faces and the pillows. We look so happy. So perfect together. And my cheeks are still flushed with that giveaway orgasm-pink.
“It’s fine, as long as you don’t mind catching hell from all those girls,” I say.
“What girls?” He chuckles as he touches up the picture with some editing app. “You think I give a shit if people know we’re fucking?”
But we aren’t just fucking, Justin. We are falling head over heels in love, don’t you realize that?
“I tagged you,” he says before he grabs his boxers from the floor, and pulls them on. “Want a drink?”
“Sure.”
He smiles at me and kisses my forehead. “Be right back, babe.” He pulls his jeans up, grabs his shirt from the end of the bed, but doesn’t bother to put it on as he heads for the door. I shift in the bed and purposefully allow the sheet to fall just below the bottom of my breasts. Justin stops, his hand held above the doorknob as he glances back at me. A smirk forms on his face as his eyes veer down to my chest. “Oh, you know what you’re doing, don’t you?” He winks, throws his shirt over his shoulder, then opens the door and walks out into the hall. Before the door slams closed, I hear a girl call out to him. I hear him answer.
He’s just come out ofourroom. No shirt. Messy bed hair. I hope that bitch realizes he fucked me. I hope she hates me for doing what she’ll never be able to do. And with that thought, I snuggle back down beneath the comforter, turning my head and staring at the pillow he’ll sleep on. It’s only a matter of time, I tell myself. A matter of time. He’s a man. Men need to realize what they need, and that often takes a while, but I am patient. I will wait. And wait. And wait.
And wait...
