Dom
Ilooked out the small window above the kitchen sink of my flat as I mindlessly stirred a huge pot of chilli.
I’d tried talking to Harry for the past three days. Calling him, texting him, all from my own phone. And I got absolutely nothing.
But Molly? Well, he was wide open for Molly. In fact, all he wanted to do was talk to Molly. There had been a constant stream of messages asking her to phone him again, wanting to connect, telling her how much he wanted to hear her voice. Over and over again until I thought I would scream.
Because it seriously hurt.
It was ridiculous. I full on went for it and I know I didn't imagine him clasping me, giving himself to me as I ground against him. I'd replayed it so many fucking times in my head that all I could hear was his breathy moans and feel the imprint of his body against mine.
Shit, I wanted to know how far he would have gone with me, what else he would have told me if we'd had space.
Are you going to make me say it?
That's what I was fixed on. He wanted me enough that if Darcy had been only a minute later, I would have really tasted him.
I should have just gone to him the night before. Forced him down on the bed and sucked his tender cock until he told me how he really felt.
10/10 best friend material.
I used to admire how Sally shut off that part of herself that actually gave a shit when she ran a con, because feeling anything right now was a fucking nightmare.
I’d been cooking for hours, trying to think of a way I could ambush Harry with a decent meal and a proper conversation.
I could usually bring him some food and he would forgive me for whatever I’d done, but I doubted chilli was going to make up for the fucking cavern I'd dug myself into.
I lifted the spoon to my mouth, sampling the swirl of beef and beans. I’d got the tang right, but it needed a touch more heat. Harry didn’t like hot food, but he’d bulk it out with more salad and tacos if I added too much spice. Then I’d get to watch him struggle as he ate, spreading sauce all over his chin, dropping onto his shirt, while he grinned with a blush as he cleaned himself up.
I dipped my head forwards as I reached for the chilli flakes on my right.
I was so fucking gone; it was mental.
A buzz from the kitchen table sounded, and I turned around to see my phone flashing to life. I left the spoon in the pot and swiped up the phone.
Just a simple text:
Tammy: Missing you.
My heart thudded with a quick beat.
If my sisters were texting, it meant they felt safe enough to get the phone out of its hiding place in their room. I didn’t want to miss a chance to talk to them.
I pressed dial instantly, my breaths short.
I bought them a secret phone just in case something ever happened with their parents.
It only took two rings before the screen burst to life and I was met with the faces of my twin sisters, grinning at me from their pink bedroom. Lying on their stomachs, legs bent up in the air, happily kicking their heels. Tammy was painting her nails while Janie held the phone.
“Ladies.” I bowed my head at the monsters beaming back at me. “How are we?”
“Nice apron, loser,” Tammy said the moment I adjusted the screen so my chest was in view. Tammy was the younger twin, and the cheekier of the two. Sally had found a kindred spirit in their scumbag of a father, and a year later the twins were born. By that age I was studying a law book, along with Maths, English, and everything else a normal teenager was meant to be focused on.
I glanced down before shooting her a smirk. “Are you jealous of my sexy apron?” Harry had bought it for me as a joke. White, covered in yellow ducklings, and disgustingly cute.
“Gross.” She scrunched her nose. “No. Get over yourself.”
Both of them had the same blonde hair and light blue eyes as me and Sally. I had my dad’s height and build, whereas they took after Terry and were stockier; plus, they still had their baby faces.