But it wasn’t enough and even as the remnants of my orgasm shuddered through me, I thought of him and there was a piece of me that was still empty. Because as much as my fingers could coax a reaction from my body, it was the connection that I wanted and I wasn’t satisfied.
God damn, I needed to get laid. I needed Ben.
I was just out of the shower when the buzzer rang and though I tried to quell the excitement inside me, I couldn’t . It had to be Ben, though I wondered why he didn’t just let himself in. Maybe he’d lost his key?
I ran through the loft, the towel barely staying put as I answered the phone on the wall near the front door.
“Hey, Joe.” Our doorman was an older, retired guy, with a soft, round wife and a pack of grandkids he brought around from time to time. I liked him because Joe had seen me at my worst and there was no judging when he looked at me.
“Hello, Georgia.”
“Let him, up, Joe. It’s alright.”
He cleared his throat and there was a pause. “It’s not Mr. Lancaster. It’s …Miss Kendall.”
I rested my forehead on the wall and blinked my eyes closed. Shit. Kendall wasn’t exactly welcome around here and she knew it. Matt would blow a fuse if he was home and that was something that Joe knew too.
For a few moments I said nothing and I wondered what to do. On one hand, I missed her. I missed her like crazy. I’d known her for years and for a while we were really tight, like best friends tight. She knew what I was thinking before I did, and the girl was always up for a good time. But then shit happened. Trying to kill myself happened, and Matt blamed Kendall as much as my illness.
It’s true she lived on the edge and for someone like me she wasn’t exactly the right person to be around, but…
Jesus, I missed her.
“Georgia, what the fuck is going on? Is Matt not letting me up? Come on, I miss you and I’m only home for a few more days.”
I clutched the phone. I was caving.
I could handle Kendall. I was strong now.
I thought of Matt. I thought of his dig earlier. Be good. And after a mental fuck-you, I spoke. “Come on up.”
I unlocked the door, fled to my room, and I was just pulling up my undies when Kendall burst inside and wrapped her arms around me so tightly that I nearly choked. A few things were soon apparent and I frowned, pushing down the little wiggle of unease that sliced through my gut. She was drunk and—I slid from her embrace so I could get a good look at her—pupils dilated, eyes glazed—she was high.
Double fuckedy-fuck.
“Holy shit, Georgia, you look great. When the hell did you grow those?”
I glanced down at my boobs, now encased a soft peach bra that matched my undies. I shrugged. “It’s a push-up bra, loser.”
She flung herself onto the bed. “You look great.”
“And you look wasted.”
She laughed, flinging her dark red hair behind her shoulders. She was a striking girl—tall, willowy, with a great rack, nice ass and an attitude that didn’t quit. We’d met at school—a private academy in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere—and we bonded over our love of music (at the time I was all about musicians and had a weakness for guitarists) and a shared disdain for authority.
She was type A all the way with a highly addictive personality, and with all the issues I had including the worst—the fact that I had no boundaries—we were pretty toxic together. In fact for a while there we were known as the toxic twins. At the time I didn’t know I was bipolar. I didn’t know shit, except having a good time.
But I was fine now.
I was better.
“We need to get really fucking wasted. The Rats are playing at Kachinga and I’ve got tickets.”
I can handle her.
She jumped up from my bed, her short plaid skirt barely covering her ass and from the little peek I got I was guessing she was commando. Some things never changed. She hugged me fiercely. “You have to come with and I’m not taking no for an answer. I’ll throw down with Matt if he gets in our way.” She licked her lips and poked her hips into me suggestively. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind throwing down with Matt.”
“Ew.”