31
Caroline
Oren didn’t contact me after Sander’s visit. I expected a text, a call, something that night.
I’m sure there was plenty he wanted to say, like, “What the hell did you ever see in that douche?” Or, “Please, f**k, tell me I’m better in the sack, or hung lower, than him.”
Anything! But, nope, he went radio silent.
I wasn’t sure what that meant. I wanted to talk to him, was dying to tell him that watching him toy with Sander had been sexy. He’d reminded me of a great lounging lion, or panther, one of those huge jungle cats, the type that didn’t just beat the s**t out of its prey, but played with it first, picking it apart limb by limb. I have no idea why I thought that was hot, but I did.
So now, I wanted to know if he was so disgusted by my past choice of boyfriends that he
