As if on cue, the toilet flushes. My eyes widen.
Selene’s lips turn up in a sly grin. “Is that Mr. Hookup in your bathroom?”
I groan. “Yes.”
“Not a good hookup, then?”
“No,” I say, with a sad shake of my head. “He was clumsy and fast. I’m not even going to lie to you—I have the female equivalent of blue balls right now.”
“Ugh,” Selene says with a dramatic eye roll. “That’s the worst. Why didn’t you take care of it yourself?”
I shrug. “I was pretty drunk, and I fell asleep. Or passed out. Whatever. But fuck, Selene, I’m so uncomfortable.”
Dylan comes out in nothing but his underwear. He sees Selene and gives her a grin. “Hi.”
I point to the couch. “Your stuff is over there.”
He makes a show of putting his clothes back on. Selene snickers and I barely stop myself from bashing my forehead on the kitchen counter. But my head already feels like it’s going to explode, so I do not need to make it worse.
“So, do you want me to call you?” Dylan asks.
I open my mouth to reply, but I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want him to call me—not even a little bit—but I don’t think he has my number anyway. I’m trying to come up with a response that doesn’t make me sound like a total bitch when the front door bangs open and Braxton strides in.
“Hey, Brax,” Selene says. She sits on the couch with her coffee.
Braxton pauses and appraises Dylan. He’s at least four inches taller than my unfortunate hookup, and he’s blocking the way to the front door.
Dylan’s eyes move from me to Braxton a few times. I try not to die of awkwardness.
“Morning, ladies,” Braxton says.
How the fuck is he so chipper in the morning? Didn’t he get shit-faced last night, too?
“Hi,” I say, not bothering to fake morning enthusiasm any more than I faked an orgasm last night.
Braxton comes into the kitchen, walking past Dylan like he no longer exists. He grabs my coffee and takes a sip. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I say, making sure to sound extra sarcastic.
“I call it like I see it,” he says.
“She has lady blue balls,” Selene says over her shoulder.
My mouth drops open and Braxton raises his eyebrows.
“What the fuck?” Dylan says.
Braxton laughs and looks over his shoulder at Dylan. “I’d say that’s your cue to go, big guy.” He turns quickly to me, the slightest shadow of doubt crossing his features. He was dangerously close to breaking our unspoken pact with that comment, and I can tell he knows it.
I turn one side of my mouth up in a little smile. He bent the rule; he didn’t break it. A shitty hookup doesn’t need to be protected from him. I move my eyes to Dylan and nod toward the front door.
“See ya,” I say.
Dylan makes a face like he might defend his manhood, but he just grabs his sweatshirt and leaves.
I groan when the front door closes, putting my hand to my forehead. “What is wrong with me? Seriously, that guy? Selene, why did you let me do that? You should have stopped me.”
“You were beyond help last night,” she says. “Having said that, I actually think you’re right. I shouldn’t have let that go down. It’s not like you got anything good out of the deal. Just frustration.”
“You still … frustrated?” Braxton asks, raising an eyebrow.
I feel a tingle in my belly that goes right between my legs, and the throbbing starts all over again. I look away. “I’m fine.”
“Just go deal with it,” Selene says. “I’ll turn on the TV so we won’t hear if you make noise.”
“God, Selene, really?” I ask. “I’m not going to go deal with it with you guys sitting out here.”
Selene laughs. “Oh come on, it’s us. Have any of us not heard the others having sex at some point? I can deal. And Braxton’s my brother, so it’s really gross.”
“You haven’t heard me having sex,” Braxton says.
“Um, are you joking?” she asks. “Of course I have.”
“When?”
“Too many times to count,” she says. “It started back in high school. You brought that one girl home constantly.”
Braxton laughs. “Nothing in our teens counts. Teenagers are bumbling idiots.” He flashes a grin at me. “Well, I wasn’t. But I was noisier than I needed to be.”
I roll my eyes at him. “I’m sure you were amazing from the start.”
He shrugs. “I was.”
Somehow I don’t doubt it.
“I realize I kind of brought it up, but can we stop talking about Braxton and sex?” Selene asks.
Braxton sits on a bar stool and takes another sip of my coffee, then hands it back to me. “Why? I rather like talking about me and sex.”
“If you don’t stop, I’ll start talking about me and sex,” Selene says.