Page 11 of Unlikely
“The main thing is that Raine loves it here. She’s enjoying college, making new friends, and making her own money. She’s doing the damn thing, and I’m so privileged to be able to be here watching her take on the world. And you are always welcome to come here for her. You know you don’t need my permission for that.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, mulling over my next words, knowing I don’t want to say them any more than Jesse is going to want to hear them.
“Please don’t come out here for me.”
There is an impossibility to my request, because whenever he visits Raine, he will still be indirectly checking on me. But the words make the boundaries real, and I know Jesse, at the bare minimum, will try to respect them.
“Okay.” I can hear the reluctance in his surrender, but I’m still appreciative. “We’ll stick to the schedule we’ve already set, and I’ll see you in six weeks, but if you need me?—”
“I’ll call you, I promise,” I assure him. “But I’ve gotta start getting ready for work now anyway.”
“Thank you for calling me back.”
“Of course,” I tell him. “Tell Leo I said hello. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Hanging up, I throw the cell on my bed and fall back onto the mattress. I hadn’t intended on starting my morning in such a funk. Every night, I vow to myself that the next day will be better. Extending my arm, I reach for my nightstand drawer, opening it and feeling around for my necklace, only to remember it’s still missing. Trying–for the hundredth time–to remember where I left it, my hand comes across my vibrator instead, and an exasperated chuckle leaves my mouth.
It’s true, this thing could get me off just as good as any woman could, but it’s a reminder of the aching loneliness that I had no time to feel when I was raising Raine. Jesse and I were single for the first ten years of Raine’s life, living as a platonic couple, not giving any mind to romance and relationships.
It worked until it didn’t.
The same way sporadic dates and one-night stands worked for me, and now they don’t.
Six months ago, I flew up to L.A. on my own. We had settled on our new place here, and I wanted to deep clean it before Jesse, Leo, and Raine drove up here with all our furniture. I had also secured a job here at an upscale hair salon in Beverly Hills and they wanted to welcome me to the team.
We had dinner and drinks, ending the night at a club called Zero in Hollywood. It was everything I expected the night to be—food, alcohol, and dancing—but I didn’t expect the blond-haired woman with the lithe body and the tipsy smile. She had caught my attention from across the room, and one look around the club told me I wasn’t the only one.
My gaze flickered to her every chance I got—in between drinks, in between dancing, in between conversation. And each time made me feel a little more off my game. We weren’t in a queer bar, and, of course, that made it difficult to navigate interactions with people of the same sex, but I wasn’t in the closet and hadn’t been for a very long time.
For the most part, women were receptive to being hit on by other women, even flattered by it, as it didn’t come attached with the toxic masculinity that often tainted the interactions between straight and gay men. And a lifetime of affectionate platonic friendships between girlfriends often softened any rejection.
Of course, like everything, there were outliers. Moments when exposing your sexuality didn’t always work in your favor, but I was beyond privileged to have been brought into the world by supportive parents—setting the standard for the type of people I have always wanted to surround myself with in everyday life.
In that circumstance, I didn’t really know how it would go, but when the perfect scenario presented itself to me, it felt like the universe was telling me to shoot my shot.
And I did.
More than once.
Quickly glancing at the time, I pluck out my vibrator instead. I slip my hand into my pajama bottoms and turn the lipstick-shaped device on and press it against my clit. A low hum reverberates throughout the room as I close my eyes, the face of the blond beauty burned onto the back of my eyelids.
The whole night was like an unexpected gift, and not for the first time in the last six months my mind and my body reminisce.
Her cherry lips.
Her soft, pale skin.
The way she felt around my fingers.
The way she sounded when she came.
My clit throbs and my pulse thrums as I slide my hand up my shirt and tweak my nipple. I increase the speed on my vibrator, imagining, wishing—even just for a moment—for someone else’s hands on me.
Herhands on me.
My muscles coil at the thought, at the images, at the memories. And the nerve endings in my body flutter rapidly as I rub the sculpted tip against myself, harder and faster, eager for my release. My thighs stiffen as heat courses through me, all the blood in my body rushing to my center.