I’m so close. My toes are curled, my legs are spread wide, and my head is pushed into the pillow of my hotel bed. My vibrator buzzes in my hand as my body squirms beneath it, on the brink of getting off. My
eyes screw shut as my handheld best friend continues to work its magic over my sensitive nerves.
There’s not a work trip I take without this thing. And it’s been a while since I’ve really gotten off, so this overdue orgasm is about to rip through my body. I can feel it.
I’m so close. So fucking close as I visualize someone else doing this instead of the bright purple rubber toy in my hand.
Michael B. Jordan. Yes. Liam Hemsworth. Yes.
Oh my God, I’m right there. Evan Zanders. No.
No. No. No. Please no.
But it’s too late as my entire body contracts, and my mouth falls open as I come, visualizing that Zanders is the one making it happen. His tattooed skin and hazel eyes are all I can see as I hit my high. His gold chain around his neck. His corded back muscles. His long fingers and perfect teeth. No. Fuck no.
Once I finally come down, I throw my vibrator across my hotel room in frustration and betrayal. Did I seriously just come to the image of Evan Zanders fucking me?
Yes. Yes, I did.
Have I been able to picture anyone else all week, ever since I saw the outline of what he’s sporting in his sweatpants on our flight home from Detroit?
No. No, I haven’t.
Which is why I was overdue for an orgasm. I haven’t come all week. I’ve stopped myself anytime his stupid pretty face came into my mind, and I’ve been sexually frustrated since.
“Stevie!” a couple of girls squeal, accompanied by several knocks at my door.
Shit. Is it nine already?
I grab a pair of sweatpants from my suitcase and struggle to step into them, attempting to get dressed while also stumbling over to the door. I pull them over my ass before I swing it open.
“Ahhh!” both Hannah and Jackie shriek as they engulf me in a hug.
This reception is a little unexpected. I haven’t seen or talked to my old high school friends in quite a while but felt the need to tell them I was coming to town. We have an ongoing group chat, but it’s typically just a conversion between the two of them. When I told them I was coming back to my hometown, they insisted we get together for a night out.
“Hey, guys.” I hug them back, or at least attempt to, but they’re pinning my arms to my body.
“Please tell me that’s not what you’re wearing.” Hannah pulls away from our embrace, eyeing my body up and down.
“Of course not.” I look down at my loungewear. “I gotta change real quick, and we can go.”
Checking out my friends’ outfits, I’m glad I brought something out of my comfort zone to wear. Hannah is decked out in a sequin minidress, and Jackie’s cropped top shows off her toned midsection perfectly. I’d rather go out in my oversized T-shirt and baggy jeans, but this town already makes me feel like I don’t fit in as it is.
“Is that your vibrator?” Hannah questions, staring at the purple toy on the floor.
“Uhhh…” I hesitate, grabbing it and shoving it back into my suitcase. Wear your mask of confidence. Own it. It’s not like they know you just came to the mental image of one of your clients fucking you. “Sure is,” I confidently state.
A lot of women use vibrators. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It keeps you from making some poor choices when you have this thing at your fingertips.
I grab the outfit I planned to wear tonight out of my suitcase before slipping into the bathroom to change.
“So…” Jackie begins, speaking loudly so I can hear her behind the bathroom door. “How’s Ryan?”
I roll my eyes, thankful to be locked in the bathroom so she can’t see me. Jackie, like every girl in high school, was eager for my twin brother’s attention. He never did anything with her, knowing she was my friend, but every time she brings him up, it feels like she has ulterior motives behind her questioning.
“He’s good.” I quickly brush her off as I slip on the miniskirt I brought for a night out. I thrifted it last week and love the way it hugs my hips and ass. Typically, I would never wear this outfit, but something about being back in Nashville makes me feel the need to dress the part. To try a little harder.
I finish my look off with a pair of heels and a body-hugging long- sleeved top.
Not so surprisingly, Zanders’ words from last week have been playing on repeat in my mind.
“Your body is banging. You should start showing it off.”
I can’t help but smile at myself in the full-length mirror.
Leaving my sweatpants and sweatshirt on the bathroom floor, I head back into the central part of my room.
“Oh.” Hannah stops in her tracks, checking me out, her eyes flickering up and down my body.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just didn’t expect you to wear something so…tight. That’s not like you.”
And suddenly, there’s goes that bit of genuine confidence. I try to put the mask back on, but it’s almost impossible to do so in my hometown.
“Should I change?” Though, I have no idea what I’d wear. I only brought one outfit to go out this week.
“No, you look fine,” Jackie chimes in. “But you’re going to straighten your hair, right?”
My eyes dart back and forth between Hannah and Jackie, noting their perfectly smooth bleach blonde hair. The difference between their texture and mine was a huge insecurity in high school. People teased me for my wild curls, so much so that I straightened my hair almost every day in hopes of controlling them and looking like my peers.
But as I got older, I learned how to take care of my natural texture, and I haven’t straightened it in years.
“No. I’m wearing it like this.” I push my hair out of my face. Grabbing my purse off the bed, I head to the door. “Where are we going first?”
“Whiskey Town.”
I quickly shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s right across the street from the arena. There’s a good chance some of the hockey team will be there.”
“We know.” Jackie smiles with mischief. “That’s why we’re going there first. We want to meet some of your new hockey boys.” She knocks her narrow hip into mine.
“We can’t. I can get in trouble for that.”
Hannah rolls her eyes at me. “Stevie, it’s fine. No one is going to care if you happen to end up at the same bar as some of the guys on the team.”
“No, you guys don’t get it. I can literally get fired for fraternizing with them.”
“Then don’t fraternize,” Jackie states with a casual shrug. “But just because you can’t hang out with them doesn’t mean we have to avoid them. The least you can do is introduce us.”
I should’ve seen this coming. I should’ve known better. I should’ve listened to my brother’s warning and realized that the only reason Hannah and Jackie were so eager to hang out with me was that I happened to work for professional athletes, and they thought I would be their hookup.
But no. Screw that. I just don’t know how to get out of the situation now that I’m in it.
Once outside, Hannah and Jackie walk about five feet ahead of me, eager to get to the bars on the main strip in Nashville. There’s a good chance some of the team will be at a fan-favorite, Whiskey Town, but if not, I’m sure my friends from high school will make us bar hop until we find them.
I can only hope that Tara isn’t out tonight. If she’s out on the town and I so happen to be in the same bar as the team, I’m screwed.
Indy texted me when we got to our hotel rooms, telling me to have fun and asking if I wanted to grab brunch with her tomorrow. I quickly said yes, and now I wish I would’ve never told Hannah and Jackie I was back in town. I would’ve much rather had a night on the town with my cool and kind coworker.
“How do we look?” Jackie asks as she and Hannah quickly primp themselves right outside the bar.
“Great,” I absentmindedly answer without looking at them.
We show our IDs at the door, and the two of them quickly scan the scene as soon as we step inside. “There’s an empty table,” Hannah says, pointing towards the back corner of the crowded bar. “Stevie, grab us two vodka-sodas while we snag a table back there.”
Hannah and Jackie loop their arms around each other, taking off to the far corner of the bar. They look exactly the same from behind—long blonde hair, tan legs that lean on the spectrum of orange, and short and petite frames.
Glancing down at myself, I look nothing like them, and being back in this city constantly reminds me that I don’t fit in. That I don’t look like the girls I grew up with. That I don’t fit their construct of “pretty.”
I feel invisible as I attempt to squeeze past the people crowding the bar. No one is even waiting for a drink or ordering a new one, yet no one yields some space for me.
I hate this night already.
I don’t know if I’ve ever felt as self-conscious as I do in this moment. It’s as if I’m all too aware of the area I’m occupying, with other bodies swarming around me. It’s as if I need to apologize for existing in this space. For being the size I am. For not being small enough to squeeze past the crowd without bothering anyone.
Eventually, a couple starts aggressively making out. They’re pressed together so closely that it makes just enough room for me to sneak up to the bar top.
The bartender laughs as I sigh in relief, sidling up to the counter. “What can I get you?”
“Can I get two vodka-sodas with lime and an IPA?” She grabs a couple of glasses by her well. “Your biggest IPA.”
A smile forms on her lips as she exchanges the smaller glass for a much larger one. As she turns to the tap, I look up to scan the room, feeling a pair
of eyes on me. Hazel eyes.
Hidden in the back corner of the bar, Zanders pulls his beer to his lips, his eyes shining with amusement and his mouth tugging up in a smile behind the glass bottle as he stares at me.
“You following me?” he silently mouths from across the bar.
