Sparks & Balances by Maggie Francis

Author:Maggie Francis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Maggie Francis

Chapter 31

Tahlia

Shit.

Shitty shit shitballs. Noah’s in my house. Cute Mr. Glasses Face is in. My. Bedroom. Well, he was. He’s just left, and I’m now staring gobsmacked at his retreating back because I think I may have told him I killed him, but a lot of this night is a blur. Hazy. Unclear. Thank you, low-pressure electrical storm, you pushy sonofabitch. A chill spreads across my body, and I remember I’m not wearing any pants. I’m sitting in my room in a tank top and my favorite high-rise underwear that I love because they’re nice and comfy under tight jeans, but Hekate’s handkerchief, not what I want to present myself to a cute dude in.

Oh, who am I kidding. Any chance I may have had with Noah at one time is surely swirling down the drain after this whole experience. I don’t have to remember everything that’s happened in the last couple of hours to assume it was embarrassing and off-putting. If this storm is anything like the last one, I’ve been a hot mess. Ugh. So much for my crush on him. Whatever. He’s just a stupid, hot guy who checks off a lot of my thirst trap boxes, who I have to work with. Oh fuck. We have to work together. That’s a reminder I don’t need while I’m sitting in my underwear.

I snarl at myself and weave over to my dresser. I rummage around a bit and pull out some sleep shorts. I don’t usually wear them, but I’ve got to put something on, and all this extra electricity thrumming through me is making me hot and bothered. More hot and bothered. Noah has had a hand in some of that as well. The low rise of the shorts is uncomfortable with my high-cut granny panties, so I furiously push everything off my lower half and start all over. I dig around in my underwear drawer, ass in the proverbial breeze, until I find a pair of stringy undies and slide them on. My butt cheeks hang out the bottom of these, but they’re nice with the shorts. My skin is hot to the touch, and I feel lightheaded again and groan. Snacks! I needs a snack to fill up my tummy and digest some of this energy.

Noah’s a snack.

I like him.

No, I don’t like him! I hurt him and I have to leave him alone. He’s so sweet and cute. I don’t want to hurt him again. Why is he in my house? I shake my head and stumble, remembering belatedly that I’m only halfway dressed. I chuckle.

Put shorts on body.

Get snack. Put shorts on body, get snack. I repeat the mantra to myself over and over as I fumble my ass into the shorts and stumble out of my room. Snacks are good, want snacks.

I tiptoe carefully down the hall to my kitchen, making sure I don’t shuffle and create any bonus sparks, and teeter precariously the whole time. Drunk girls and tippy toes don’t mix! But I make it with only one pause to lean against the wall and let the room stop spinning.

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