“I won’t,Papai.Tchau. TellMamãeI saidhello.”
I end the call as Sofia glides into the kitchen and hops up onto the counter, sitting with her bare ass directly on the linoleum. I give her a look, but all she does is grab my coffee mug and drain the last fewsips.
“Meu Deus, Christina. Yourpaiis so fuckingcute.”
I snatch my mug back and drop it in thesink.
“You know there is an entire pot of coffee sitting right behind you,” I tellher.
She glances over her shoulder. “Oh, right. Sorry, Chrissy. I have just-been-fucked brain right now. Nicholas is some kind of sex god. I swear, thecarahloon that boy...” Throwing her head back, she closes her eyes and sighs. “He’s waiting in my room for us to go again. Are you leaving for school soon? Because he really wants to do me in thekitchen.”
“I’m practically out the door,” I announce, making a beeline for the hallway when I hear Sofia’s door open. I know Nicholas will probably be wearing even less clothes than she is, and that is onecarahloI have no interest inseeing.
“Just clean up after yourselves, please,” I call as I step out of the apartment. “I eat inthere.”
I rush down the stairs to the parking garage, knowing I’m already behind schedule. My phone buzzes again just as I turn the ignition on and give up a small prayer of thanks when the car actually starts. Glancing at the screen, I see my second reminder of theday:
Planning session with Aaron in thirtyminutes.
* * *
“What doyou mean you don’t think it should be aboutsex?”
I stare at Aaron across the cafeteria table, looking up from the half dozen sheets of paper we have strewn between us. Brainstorming notes are scribbled across all of them and most of the ideas have already been crossedout.
“I just think it would be more successful if we went with something less...obvious,” Aaron replies, leaning back in his seat and crossing hisarms.
The motion makes his muscles strain against his sleeves and I try not to roll my eyes at the fact that even hismuscleslookdouchey.
“There’s obvious, and then there’s the actual function of the product,” I reply. “You don’t see me walking around in body stockings as my everyday wear, doyou?”
“No,” he answers, “but now that you mention it, I wouldn’tmind.”
I shoot daggers at him but the smirk doesn’t fall from hisface.
“Right, right,” he concedes. “Therules.”
He lifts up the corner of one of the papers on the table, the only one whose contents haven’t been scratched out with frustrated penstrokes.
Rules for Aaron, reads the title, followed by alist:
No suggestive comments aboutlingerie
No suggestive comments ingeneral
No distractions orprocrastination
No personalinquiries
No more calling mePeaches
NO MORE CALLING MEPEACHES
“Are you going to add ‘No fun’ to this thing?” Aaronasks.
I raise an eyebrow at him and then pull the rules sheet towards me. ‘No fun’ gets listed as number seven. Aaron lets out a laugh and then instantly claps a hand over his mouth, his eyes goingwide.
“Whoops,” he whispers from behind his hand. “I broke the ‘No fun’ rulealready.”
