Bo
Bo“Happy birthday, Sloane!” two chirpy female voices sing out.
Fuck me!
Fuck me!I roll off the far side of the bed and squeeze under it just as Sloane’s bedroom door swings wide.
I’d heard the sound of voices downstairs, and I should’ve gotten up and dressed and out of here, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave Sloane’s bed. Not when holding her felt so right.
Not when leaving her meant saying goodbye.
I watch two pairs of feet enter the room and stand inside the door. Then the voices break into a round of “Happy Birthday.”
It’s sweet, but I fear Sloane’s too freaked out about my presence under the bed to appreciate it. I detect the scent of something sweet and chocolatey and the wax of a burning candle.
“Oh my God, you guys. Thank you.”
I love the rust in Sloane’s voice. It’s
