Grace
The morning after my tryst with Onyx, I’m still shivering with lust and delight. I can’t help it. There’s more to it than what goes on between my legs, too. Thoughts of him makes my chest tighten. It hurts and gives pleasure in equal measure. I almost forget that we still have to deal with Sarah.
“You came home late last night smelling like Onyx,” Carlotta teases, while holding a coffee mug. The smell of caffeine plus my roommate’s voice pull me from the haze I was in. It’s not even a question, nor is it an accusation. It’s just matter-of-fact. I’m intrigued.
“Yeah, we hang out,” I say, trying for nonchalance.
“Oh, is that what we call it nowadays?”
“Carlotta, do I still smell like him?” I don’t want to walk around, having people know what happened. It may anger Sarah, and I do
