Tara
You’re ruining my Christmas vibe with thoughts of your cobwebbed vagina.
Me
Then stop thinking about it!
Tara
I’ll be over at 5.
Me:
Today? You don’t need to come today, it’s Christmas!
Tara
Xander is heading in then to open The Depot. Christmas night is one of his busiest days… something about being around family brings out everyone’s aggression and need to drink.
Have you eaten? I’ll grab us Chinese.
Me
Chinese sounds good. I’ll see you then.
Tara
I’ll bring hard liquor!
I chuckle as I relax back on the sofa, feeling more at ease knowing I’ll be able to talk all of this through with her in a few hours.
I keep myself busy waiting for Tara by thoroughly cleaning my apartment. You can’t miss boys youshouldn’twhen you’re pulling gunk from your shower drain and trying not to gag.
When the buzzer for my apartment sounds, I nearly jump out of my skin, whirling to stare bug-eyed at the offending device as my heart tries to leap from my chest.
What if it’s Grayson, come to drag me back there? What if it’s Logan coming to… I don’t even know what.
My gaze darts to the clock on my oven, and logically, I know it's Tara, but what if…
Slowly moving over to the buzzer, my throat is dry as I reach out to push the intercom button, refusing to say anything.
“Yo, bitch, let me up! I have all the goodies!”
The air in my lungs whooshes out, my body sagging forward as I huff out a strained laugh while pressing the button to let her into the building.
However, my reaction makes me realize just how stressed I am that Grayson or Logan might show up.
Before I can dwell on it, Tara is at my door, greeting me with a wide grin.
“Girl, this better be good,” she says, giving me a one-arm embrace. “You owe me for leaving me hanging all of Christmas without so much as a text to let me know you were alive. With all that time off, you better have been getting some mighty fine orgasms!”
She makes herself at home, dropping the bag of takeout onto the countertop.
“Eh, yeah, not quite,” I respond grimly, gesturing to the liquor bottle in her hand. “Why don’t you open that, and I’ll tell you everything.”
We eat our food while she plies me with alcohol—probably sensing how badly I need it—and when I’m full and sitting back on the sofa, I dive headfirst into the shitshow that is my life.
I’ve given this some consideration while I was elbow-deep in my sink, and I’ve decided to tell her everything. So, after giving her a heads-up that this was going to be rough, I start at the very beginning.
