After All(23)

"You look like you died in the middle of your prom. Please tell me you at least got laid."

I can't help but grin. In fact, I'm not just grinning up at the ceiling like I'm high, I'm laughing.

"Oh boy," Carla says. "I've got pickle juice ready if you want a quick fix."

Even though a hit of pickle juice is essential to any hangover recovery methods, I'm still laughing. Because, OH MY GOD.

I totally got fucked by Emmett Hill last night.

Cruiser McGill.

Bruiser NoChill.

Doctor Death.

And whatever else name he has.

And even though I know I should be deeply ashamed by all of this, I'm not.

I mean, he was good.

He was really fucking good.

Best fucking cock I've got in a very, very long time.

Maybe ever.

I'd be sad about it if the endorphins weren't still running through me, faint but present.

"Should I call a doctor?" Carla asks, approaching the bed warily.

I shake my head and then stop immediately. The pain makes me wince and yet I'm still smiling. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Then what's so funny? Usually you're moping around for a few days after a wedding and eating all my chocolate. In fact, I bought a few extra bars because I expected your wallowing."

"No moping, just … " I slowly ease myself up and give her a lazy grin.

"You did get laid," Carla says, patting my leg. "Good for you. With who?"

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you."

"You know I'm gullible," she says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Do I need to get a coffee for this? Popcorn? Pot cookies?"

I bite my lip, buying time while I figure out what I should say. There are no secrets between Carla and I. It's hard for there to be when you're both like-minded people sharing a 600 square foot apartment. Whenever we come home from our dates or hook-ups, we give each other the play-by-play.

But this time it feels a bit different. Not because I don't want to jinx it or anything. Honestly, I'm not planning on seeing Emmett again. Hell, we didn't even exchange phone numbers and I was completely okay with that.

It's just that … Emmett isn't anonymous and I'm not a star fucker. I mean, I'm anti all that shit (not that this opportunity has ever come up in my life before). Carla knows that too, which is why it all feels so weird.

Plus, there's the fact that he totally screwed me in public. I'm obviously not shy when it comes to sex and one-night stands but I've never had sex in public like that. A locker room in the yacht club where any drunken sailor–or wedding guest–could come in and see us with my legs wrapped around his ass, his thick cock driven deep inside me.


      ///
       
         
       
        

Fuck. I'm throbbing between my legs just thinking about it. I have a feeling once I start moving I'm going to be sore, like his body has made its mark on me.

"Alyssa," Carla says slowly, studying my face in such a way, like a detective, that I know there's no point in lying.

"Okay but promise you won't tell anyone."

She rolls her eyes, throwing up her hands. "Who am I going to tell? Don't take this the wrong way, but my friends don't care about my roommate's sex life."

I tilt my head. "Well, they might."

Carla just stares. "Spill the beans or no pickle juice for you."

"Jeez, hard bargain." I take in a deep breath and try to say it as normally as possible. "Did you ever watch Degrassi?"

She's totally puzzled. "Yes … wait, the new or the old one?"

"The new one."

"Then yes … why? Why?! Did you sleep with Drake?!"

I have never seen her look so excited before.

I shake my head. "You know that stupid superhero show, Boomerang?"

"With the hot Aussie? Yes. Alyssa … what are you … "

And then she starts to put it all together, her brow furrowing, her mouth gaping slightly.

"Oh my god. You didn't … you didn't sleep with that other guy, did you? What's his name? Cruiser McGill!"

I shrug. "Less sleep, more straight-up fucking."

"Noooo," Carla says in disbelief. "You didn't."

I raise my hand, dip my head. "Guilty."

"What's his name again? Emerson?"

"Emmett."

"How did that happen? I mean … he was at the wedding?"

"One of the groomsmen. Will's best friend, other than Ted of course."

"Hold up," she says, pulling out her phone and Googling his name. "This guy."

Of course it's a pic of Emmett from Degrassi, when he was all fresh-faced and floppy-haired. It was almost impossible to picture him as the man that fucked my brains out last night. The man from last night knew exactly what to do with my body, playing it like a fine-tuned instrument, even if we only had a few minutes with each other.