He smiles wryly. “It suits him.”
We grin dumbly at each other for a beat before I break the spell.
“Alright, next?”
Huxley stays silent for a few seconds, then says, “Freedom.”
I diligently write the word onto another cigarette, trying not to dwell on the heavy feeling that one word must mean to him.
One by one, we go through all his cigarettes, sliding them back into their rightful place as we work through the pack. Huxley lists his gratitude, and I continue to write it down until we’re left with only two cigarettes.
“Okay, two more things and we’re done,” I titter, somewhat giddy about how fun this little exercise turned out to be.
Huxley lifts his gaze to the ceiling, most likely running out of things to list off at this point.
“My vinyl collection and —” He pauses, his eyes finding mine. His Adam’s apple bobs on a swallow. “You. I’m grateful for you.”
My pen hovers in the air as we share a quiet butveryloaded stare, my stomach exploding with butterflies. I don’t have time to comment before I hear a rap on my open door.
It’s Nacho, looking slightly disheveled and clutching his huge binder.
“Do you have a minute?”
I glance at Huxley, then back at Nacho, and smile.
“Of course, we were just finishing lunch. Come in.”
Quickly, I writevinyl collectionon the second to last cigarette, and then hurriedly jot down my name with a small sun on the final one, sliding them both into Huxley’s pack, hoping Nacho isn’t paying that close attention to what I’m doing.
Huxley jumps to his feet, giving Nacho a quick clap on the shoulder, then grabs his takeout, strolling up to my desk.
“I’ll take those off your hands,” he says casually, sliding his pack of cigarettes into his back pocket before grabbing my bag of takeout. He smiles shyly. “See you later, Connie.”
32
HUXLEY
I’m not sure how I let Connie talk me into this. But if I’m being perfectly honest, it didn’t take much arm-twisting either. She had the idea this morning and had me agreeing to it in under a minute. Besides, how can I ever deny her?
Now, it’s a few hours before the influencer party, and I’m sitting on the edge of her hotel bathtub with a towel around my neck while Connie paints black hearts over my blue hair with hair dye.
She giggles above me. “This is going to look so good. I’m a genius.”
I grin but keep my head down. The dye is cold on my head, but the wet strokes of the brush feel nice on my scalp, especially knowing who’s holding the brush. A vague but thrilling feeling tingles down my spine; the sensation is hard to describe with words.
I’ve been trying to keep my hands to myself while she works on my hair, but it’s getting harder and harder by the second. Her tits are directly at eye level, all snug in that little tank top of hers, and I’m starting to feel like a feral stray desperate for a hot meal.
“Can’t wait to show you off,” she says under her breath. It’s said so casually that it takes me a second to register what she just said.
When I do, my stomach flips with the implications.
“Yeah?” I reply, trying to sound just as casual as she did. “Are you going to show me off online, too?”
Idiot. You sound so desperate.
Connie falls silent, and I wish I could take it all back. Her fingers smooth over my buzzed head, followed by the stroke of the brush, and the tingles continue their descent down my body.
“I told Jamie about us last night.”
