Oh god. My mouth falls open. He’s the only other person who knows my address. Even the team office still has Hazel’s address on file for me, even though they know I’m living at Jamie’s. “What’s that look?” Hazel asks. I’m staring at nothing. My face is the temperature of the sun, and I’m going to die of embarrassment or horniness or shock. Jamie Streicher sent me a sex toy, and I’ve been using it nonstop while thinking about him. The image of him standing in the kitchen, staring at me with discomfort as I walked out in a post-orgasm haze, appears in my head. I press my hands against my cheeks.
...more
