Celeste’s eyes widen with amusement. “What did my shirt ever do to you?” she teases, but the humor is quickly replaced by pleasure on her face as I cup her breasts, slipping my fingers under her bra to sweep over her hardened nipples.

It’s almost criminal how much I missed these boobs.

“Undo my bra,” she begs, and I oblige, reaching behind her to unhook the back.

The moment it drops to the floor, I’m sucking on one of her nipples while massaging the other with my fingers. She gasps, and every remaining thought leaves my brain except the need to pleasure Celeste, to touch her and make her gasp and cry out again and again.

I’ve just come back up to kiss her lips when behind me, someone coughs.

“Um, hi,” says Val. “So, I’m assuming this is Celeste?”

Celeste’s eyes widen in panic, and in one quick motion, she grabs the shirt I gave her and flings it on. Then before I can say anything, she bolts out the door, leaving me to the clutches of my best friends and their cat.

16: Gemma

Burrito lets out a little chirp of greeting before squirming out of Kiara’s arms. My friends and I silently watch as he lands gracefully on the floor and starts sniffing Celeste’s stained shirt. Before he can get to her bra, I swiftly pick up Celeste’s things and hide them behind my back, as if that could somehow undo what were the ten most embarrassing seconds of my life.

Is this how James felt when I walked in on him and Daphne? I think. Holy shit, is this karma?

“And you’re sure there isn’t anything going on between you two?” Kiara asks with a teasing smile.

Oh, there’s something going on between Celeste and me, all right. No matter how much I wish there wasn’t.

“Positive,” I lie.

“Why don’t you toss the shirt in the laundry hamper and come talk with us?” Val asks, sounding every bit like a dad.

I do what she says. Clementine is unfortunately the only piece of furniture in the living room that can fit all three of us. So in a cruel twist of fate, my friends and I sit together on the same orange sofa where I was making out with Celeste not even five minutes ago. Thank God we’d kept most of our clothes on.

I try my best to ignore the ever-growing urge to Febreze the shit out of the couch on the off chance that it’ll smell like Celeste.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I say. “Everything just kind of happened. I feel horrible. You guys were nice enough to give me a place to stay while I figure things out and I completely disrespected your property. I understand if you want me to—”