Page 58 of Mac Meyers Needs Me

“Me, too.” I kiss the end of her nose. Then close one eye. “I need to manage my situation.”

Her eyes light up. “I can help.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” I shake my head. “My name a moan on your lips? The feel of you pulsing against me? How pretty you look when you’re coming undone for me?” I stroke her cheek. “You sent me right over the edge.”

She blinks up at me. “You came, too?”

“I came, too.”

A shy, proud smile forms.

I kiss her softly. “I’m going to clean up, and then I’m going to cuddle you to sleep, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

CHAPTER 22

FEE

Iglance around, making sure I’m alone in the hallway before I tack up the poster on the corkboard outside the theater and snap a pic. I hop into the elevator and do the same thing on three other floors, leaving a few stickers on a side table for people to grab. It’s such a thrill to spot them on people’s binders, tablet cases, and laptops in random classes.

This month’s art isn’t quite as dark and moody. The oversized patchwork heart appears in shades of red that shift to pink in freshly mended areas. Like it’s coming back to life. The oversized needle my alter ego illustration works with pierces the fabric heart, causing tears to drip from the new holes. It’s a representation of what’s happening with Mac. We can’t heal without mending old wounds.

I tack up another poster in the atrium on the way to the elevator, before I head up to my apartment and drop my things off, narrowly avoiding an escape attempt by Parsnip, Tally’s adorable, wily Maine Coon. I throw treats down the hall for him so I can sneak back out and join Cammie, Tally, and Enid at Cammie’s apartment, down the hall. The guys leave for an away game soon, so it’s a girls’ night.

The door is propped open with a squishy eggplant, so I poke my head inside the apartment. “Hello, friends!”

“We’re in the kitchen!” Cammie calls back.

I find her and Enid assembling our version of a charcuterie board, which mostly consists of chips, nuts, cookies, chocolate, and candy items. There’s also a veggie and dip platter for balance. And we’ll probably order pizza later.

“Where’s Talls?” I ask as I set my backpack on a chair and retrieve my contribution to our unhealthy food fest.

“She’s on her way. She had dance practice,” Enid explains.

“She’s in the studio nonstop this semester,” I say.

“Yeah, the demands on her time are high,” Cammie replies.

With her parents’ divorce, I imagine she needs the escape. When I lost mine, I spent endless hours in the art studio, needing somewhere to put all my sadness, and canvas was my preferred therapy.

“At least dance is a healthy way of dealing with what’s going on with her parents.” Enid artfully arranges cookies around the chip bowl in the center of the platter.

“Truth,” I agree.

Enid’s phone pings on the counter, the name Curtis flashing across the screen. She doesn’t abandon her task to respond.

“How’s Curtis?” Cammie asks.

She’s been dating him for a while. He looks suspiciously like a leaner, not-quite-as-hot version of Brody.

“Good?” It’s more a question than statement. “We went for breakfast this morning and he opened the door for me, but he hit me in the face and almost tripped a little old lady.”

Cammie and I both fight an obvious cringe.

“He means well,” I offer.

“Yeah,” Enid replies quickly. “He just doesn’t always stick the landing.”