White cotton panties shouldn’t, by any standard, be sexy. Unless a certain lady I’m forced to share a bedroom with decides to flash them at me. The image is going to haunt me forever.
What was she even doing getting changed in our room? Wasn’t it an implied rule we should use the bathroom to undress? Did she do it on purpose?
No, I don’t think so. But between that stupid mistletoe kiss and now this…
Is there a memory-erasing app? These days, there’s an app for everything. There should also be one to forget how soft her lips were pressed on mine, the tingle that shot down my spine as we kissed, and the image of Wendy half n***d looking at me over her shoulder.
“What are you thinking about?” Tess drops her elbows on the table next to me, making me realize I’ve been sitting, staring at
