Being on the third floor, we’re at the top of the building, and there are two apartments on our floor apart from ours. I don’t mind, and I like the view, frankly. Besides that, there’s a window in my bedroom that overlooks the street and at least if I’m stupid and walk in front of it naked, I have less of a chance of flashing the entire world. That’s what I hope for, anyway, though I’ll clearly have to do some street-level scout work to see for sure.
Footsteps herald the arrival of my best friend and roommate, and seconds later Juniper presses her hands against the doorframe as she looks around. “This is really nice, huh?” she asks, her dark gaze flicking from one piece of furniture to the other. “I don’t want to admit it, but maybe you’ve a point about the ghosts and death.”
“And the grisly murders,” I remind her stoically. “All of which clearly happened in our apartment.”
“Clearly,” she agrees quickly. “Anyway, I guess now we just unpack and wait for the undead to seek their revenge?”
“It will be swift and mighty.” I fight not to yawn, and I cover my mouth with my hand as if she doesn’t know from the sound of my voice what I’m doing. “Maybe we’ll get drowned, or possessed. Maybe drownedandpossessed.”
“You want pizza?” Juniper asks, breezing past my warnings of woe. “There was that place down the street, kind of where the bus dropped you off.”
“God, ugh. Don’t say ‘bus.’” I shudder. “I’m striking it from my vocabulary until two weeks before winter break on the exact day I need to schedule a ticket back home for Christmas.”
Juniper snorts. “Canadian bacon and pepperoni?”
“Pineapple?” I ask hopefully, going to sit on my bed with my laptop out. “Please, o great apartment-finder. Hero of my life. Moon of my heart.Pineapple?”
“Drop dead,” my best friend replies oh-so-sweetly… and disappears from my doorway.
I snort and pull my legs up under me, glad I get the chance to sit down even though I know I need to be unpacking. When I grab my laptop, my new tattoo, which still looks darker than it will in a few more days, catches my eye.
It hadn’t hurt more than, say, the one just over my collarbone, but getting the back of my hand tattooed hadn’t been the greatest experience of my life. Flowers litter the skin just behind my fingers, draping along the sides of my hand as they work their way back to my elbow before stopping. Twined between the blooms and only visible in a few places on my arm are the coils and shapes of snakes. On my hand, a snake’s head is actually visible, and I flex my hand as I look at the design.
I hadn’t planned this part. Not that I’ve told anyone other than Juniper that, but I had thought I’d just get more flowers to match the ones on my thigh. Even the tattoo on my left upper arm and shoulder, which features a twisting fox with wide, sightless eyes and a mouthful of fangs, is buried in a background of flowers.
But I’d never thought to get asnake. Still, it fits. I love the design, and I love the contrast of the black to the flowers against my pale skin.
Absently, I open my laptop, hands going up to push my thick, blonde hair back from my face as it boots up. I try not to scowl at my hair, because that’ll just give me something else to be pissed about, but it really is wild that after just a few hours of not brushing it, my hair gets tangled like it’s been days since I’ve touched it.
One of these days, I’m going to take it from waist length to chin length and never look back. Hell, maybe I’ll even get a damn pixie cut if I’m feeling frisky enough.
My brain short circuits when I see my computer screen, and I realize that it’s a damn good thing I hadn’t tried to use it on the trip today, sincesomeonehad forgotten to close out of all the eighteen plus browsers she’d had up last night.
That someone is me, and I’m surprised the muted videos haven’t decided to spontaneously start moaning at me.
Studiously I click out of them, pretending that I’m not scrutinizing every single one to see if I want to throw it into my favorites. But they were just filler. Just things to watch while passing the time, and most of them aren’t even my thing.
Even the camsite, which features less scripted porn and more people talking to their audiences while they fuck or get off, doesn’t appeal to me that much. Though, according to Juniper, that’s because I’ve never found someone to connect to.
Before I click out of it, I hesitate, refreshing the screen instead as I glance up at the door. I’m certainly not about to watch porn in the middle of the day with my door open but… I scroll through the thumbnails until one of a guy in a white, almost handmade looking mask with a drawn-on smile catches my attention. He tilts his head to the side, like he’s amused or questioning, and I click on the thumbnail while turning my volume up just enough that I’ll be able to hear him but I won’t be blasting out my roommate’s ears with his sexy sounds.
Besides, I’m not about to watch this, anyway. Cam shows aren’t normally my thing, and while he looks attractive from what I can see, I doubt I’ll like watching him.
Whatever he’s saying, he breaks it off when my username comes up in the chat, and he leans forward just enough to read it, his cock gripped lightly in his fingers and drawing my attention as it, too, gets bigger on my screen.
Okay, so, judging from his appearance outside of the crudely made mask… he’s definitely my type.
“You’re a little late,finalistgirl,” he greets me with a low chuckle, reading my username out loud. “I’ve just finished up.”
Damn. But, I remind myself, this is probably better. I’m not going to watch porn right now. I need to unpack and go get the pizza if Juniper doesn’t want to do it herself. Sighing, I go to close my laptop, only for his voice to pull my attention back to the screen.
“Aren’t you going to say sorry?” His tone is goading, and more than a little flirty. “You missed what I worked so hard for… and now I’m missing the joy of your company.”
Is he talking to…me?
“I’m talking to you,finalistgirl. I know you’re still here with us.” Messages of support start popping up in the chat, and I freeze, not knowing what to do. This isn’t what I expected, and no camboy has ever said anything to me before this.
“Tell me you’re sorry, and maybe I’ll let you leave.” His sultry purr of a voice sends shivers up my spine so I do what any reasonable, rational citizen would do.