Bailey
A mixture of relief and disappointment runs through me as we walk hand-in-hand to the parking lot. There are a few other cars in the lot—who knows, maybe they belong to the janitors.
Cole was right; I was nervous. Stupid me had to lay the expectation of a b*****b and now he’s expecting it and I panicked because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. You lick it like a popsicle was the advice Catrina had shared a million years ago but somehow that advice seems a bit lacking now. Surely there’s more to it. And why didn’t I just GTS—Google That s**t—before today?
So now I feel a little bit foolish, mostly relieved, and a million times melty inside at how sweet Cole was about it.
Where’s the alpha-hole posturing? I thought he’d order me on my knees and tell me what to do.
Okay, actu
