Me: No! Kinda. Jesus, just listen. I fell asleep earlier after some stuff happened. I basically came, then went full coma. And now I’m hiding in the bathroom. In the dark. Texting you. Almost about to piss myself from humiliation and because nature.
The phone rings almost the minute I hit send. I jump, panicking. Toilet paper goes flying as I lose my hold on the phone, bouncing it between my hands while playing “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber.
“Jesus,” I hiss, getting ahold of it and swiping it open. “What are you doing? Trying to wake up the whole house? Why are you calling me?”
I snatch the big-ass wad of toilet paper off the seat as she answers. But a beeping sound continues.
“Accept my FaceTime.”
What? Oh my god.
“No. Hell no.”
“Yes, bitch. Do it.”
My head’s shaking. She’s so untrustworthy. The worst little sister. I can’t FaceTime her. I won’t. There’s an ulterior motive here. But I’m weak, and she knows it.
“FaceTime me,” she presses.
“I’m in the dark, remember?” I lie unconvincingly because she comes back just as quick.
“Then turn on a light. Accept, or I’ll keep calling.”
I groan, saying, “I hate you,” as I hit accept and turn the volume down.
The smile on her face is obnoxious.
“Why do you look naked?”
“Because I am,” I hush back.
She snort-laughs. “Sam, if someone’s fucking your eye, you could’ve kept your shirt on.”
I scowl.
“I hate you. This isn’t funny. Nobody fucked my eye. Nobody fucked me, period.” I groan. “I have to pee. Talk to the ceiling for a minute.”
I set the phone down on the back of the toilet facing up.
“Put some paper down,” she yells, forcing me to pick the phone back up close to my face.
“Shhhh. I KNOW.” I set the phone back on the toilet, adding, “Keep talking…quietly. I’m muting you.”
She’s still laughing and making fun of me as I fill the bowl with all the paper before I sit. I don’t care how many doors I’m behind. They won’t hear me pee. Not happening.
I sigh, shoulders sagging. Because when I say my toes curl, the ecstasy I feel letting it all go is obscene. My sister’s voice interrupts my emptied bladder bliss.
“I can’t believe you fell asleep. You must’ve been worked over. Did you at least get some foreplay? Suck a dick?” I give a thumbs-up over my head so she can see, but she keeps going. “Who was the dirtiest…Oo. Oo. Who had the biggest dick? Did you see all of them?”
She’s still talking as I wipe and flush.
“I need to get my thoughts organized. This is so exciting. You’re always boring. Let’s start with who got a piece first?”
I unmute her as I walk out, leaving the door ajar just enough to leave a soft glow in the room. But not bright enough to give me away. Placing her on the counter, I angle the phone, so she only sees my face as I wash my hands.
“Jace did…and I’m not telling you any more details. I did the work. I get the memories.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically as she makes a dick-sucking motion with her hand and cheek.
“Sounds like you didn’t do much of anything but fall asleep. Were they bad?”
I almost drop the phone again, rushing out, “No! Not even a little. It was just intense, and I’d been up all morning, worried and anxious. Then I fainted from the snowsuit. And Jace took a really, like, intimate sexy bath with me. I just think I was overwhelmed and maybe a little hungover. And when Cole did…and said…I just—”
I suddenly realize I’m rambling. My eyes refocus, staring back at her all too interested face.
“Did what? Said what? How hot is he? Because your cheeks are red, sissy.”
I reach for the hand towel, drying my hands before narrowing my eyes at her.
“Hot enough.”
She leans closer to the camera like she’s telling me a secret, whispering, “Dude, go back in the room and flip the camera. I want to see what they look like.”
My face draws back, my head shaking.
“No. Nooooo, Eleanor. Absolutely. Not.”
She scowls.
“Come on, Sammy. If a tree falls in the woods and nobody’s there to see it, did it really happen?”
My shoulders shake.
“That’s not how that saying goes, dumbass.”
She shrugs, unfazed, as she pops a chip in her mouth, countering, “You know what I mean.” She pulls her arms down like she’s humping the air. “Show me what I’ll be working with.”
I snatch the phone back to my face.
“You are not fucking them. I’ll kill you and bury you somewhere no one will ever find you.”
She smirks. “Look who’s all jealous over her weekend lovers.”
I’m walking toward the bathroom door as I shrug.
“I’m not jealous, but I’m also not even done with my food before you’re trying to steal it.”
We both laugh quietly as I reach for the handle.
“Be quiet. Not one single fucking word. Or I’ll kill the call. Swear it, Elle.”
“I swear,” she whispers, clapping her hands together before pretending to lock her lips.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I whisper before quietly opening the door and peeking out.
The guys are right where I left them. My dirty sleeping beauties. I pad back into the room, glancing down at her excited face before looking over my shoulder. I should’ve turned off the toilet light. Shit.
My brows draw together as I stop in front of the bed, teeth finding the inside of my cheek. What if they get mad? I mean, it’s not like she can see anything other than their chests. And it’s even darker out here, even with the low light filtering out from the bathroom door.
I look down at her again.
I put my finger in front of my lips to remind her to be quiet.
The smile on my face is impossible to ignore as I flip the camera, panning up the bed to the two fucking gods asleep with a space carved out for me in the middle.
“GODDAMN,” I hear my sister yell, so I hit END, dropping my hand down to my side, eyes volleying between Cole and Reed.
Neither of them moves, even though my whole body is trembling with laughter. I lift my phone and text Eleanor.
Me: Asshole. That’s all you get. Forever. Now go away because I’m going to finish what I started. And I’m doing it with flare.
Elle: You’re a Ho Ho Ho. Merry Christmas to ya filthy pussy.
seventeen
“Okay, fellas. Come and get me.”
It only took me seconds after I got off the phone with my sister to devise a plan. I could wake them up and be like time to fuck. But who wants to do that when I can do what I’m doing now?
Making cookies while looking for Christmassy things to dress myself up in like a slutty present…for them to unwrap.
It’s the least I can do, considering I fell asleep.
The smell of cookies fills the air, reminding me I have to take them out of the oven. So I walk quietly to the kitchen in the apron I grabbed earlier, swiping my oven mitt off the counter before bending down to look through the glass.
Perfection.
Chocolate snowball kisses, my favorite holiday cookie, are risen to perfection. When the guys taste these, they’ll have to forgive me for nodding off during their best efforts. All I have to do is add the powdered sugar.