I Still Hate You by Marie Skye (most popular ebook readers .TXT) 📗

at his penis which jerked. Is he… is he getting hard? I quickly turned around. “There aren’t really any rules here, but I would prefer clothes.” I glanced at him briefly over my shoulder and noticed he had finished the rest of his apple. He casually threw the core away before grabbing more juice out of the fridge.

Before he put the carton to his lips, I stopped him. “I’m sorry, could you… you know… use a glass or something?”

He smiled as he grabbed a cup out of the dish rack. It took him a million years to pour himself a cup before taking a long swallow. “Sure, no problem,” he finally said before winking at me and strolling out of the kitchen. “Catch you later, roomie,” he said on the way out as I was left with the memory of his hard ass.

7

Perrie

I can’t believe my new roommate is Ashley… err... Ash. How the hell did I never realize Ash wasn’t his government name? Probably because you spent your last year in college screwing each other’s brains out instead of studying for physics or actually talking outside of sex. My phone dinged to an incoming text.

Claire: The inevitable has happened. Act shocked and concerned.

I took a deep breath and summoned the strength from the one time I played a doorknob in the second grade. It wasn’t a huge role obviously, but I was assigned the doorknob because everyone was getting a part, regardless. And I played the hell out of that role. The best door that ever knobbed, I would even say.

I prepared myself for the ridiculousness that is Barb as I walked into the breakroom where Barb was crying her heart out. “Maybe you can come to a compromise. It’s his wedding too, you know. It’s okay if he doesn’t agree with everything you pick out.” Claire looked up at me, grateful that I came in. “I have to go but Perrie’s here, I’m sure she has great advice.” I gave Claire a pointed look, my eyes pleading with her to not leave me here alone with Barb, but she did anyway. That bitch.

I stood by the door, Barb at the table crying. Frank, our boss, started to walk by but stopped when he saw us.

“What’s going on?” he whispered, not daring to walk into a room with a person crying, let alone a female crying.

I shook my head. “I have no idea.”

“Did you ask her?”

“No.”

He sighed. “Well, go ask her!”

I huffed as I gingerly walked in. I looked between Frank and Barb as he urged me on. “Hey, Barb,” I said as I slid in the chair across from her. She looked up, nose red from crying as she reached for another tissue.

“Hey, Pear.”

I nodded, not saying more. Frank waved at me to continue. I counted to ten before I finally asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, you don’t want to know.”

She was right about that, and I started to get up, but the look on Frank’s face told me otherwise. Counting to ten, I tried again. “Sure, I do. Tell me.”

She sniffed as she wiped her nose again. “I’ve been basically planning this wedding all by myself, and Paul chooses now to tell me that there is too much pink. I told him—”

I cut her off, “Yeah, you know what? I can’t do this. Just work it out, Barb. Pink is the devil’s second favorite color. Not everything has to be pink, take a moment and listen to him.”

I walked back to my desk, wondering if that was rude. Of course, it was, but Barb was a whole other level of horse shit you just didn’t want to be bothered with if you stepped in it. So instead of cleaning the horse shit, you just throw the whole damn shoe away.

“Perrie!” I jumped at the sound of my name. My boss, Frank, looked over at me. “Here are the topics for tonight’s podcast.” I grabbed the papers as he continued talking, “Can you try to be more more tonight?”

“More?”

“More. You know, more. More like you actually like your job and less of the whole you’d rather be drinking acetone and setting yourself on fire.” He didn’t even wait for me to answer as he walked away and I looked down at my sheet of paper. It was probably because I did hate my job. It started out great for the most part. People would call in, ask questions regarding life, then we shifted to crime stories which I absolutely loved, and it was great. But the later they put my podcast, the more the questions got… well, more.

It went from, ‘how can I make a four-course meal using ramen, spam, and enchilada sauce’ to ‘how can I be better at deepthroating.’ The absolute worst part? Frank wanted us to ‘dress’ the part. He felt it made the show more authentic if I was wearing something revealing to answer sex comments. I hated it, it was revolting, not to mention degrading. My only saving grace was the fact that no one actually saw us, so I guess I sort of went with it.

I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad if I actually had more recent sexual experiences, other than what the ex-boyfriend called the ‘best three minutes of his life’. Instead, I spend hours on various porn sites trying to learn. I’m not saying anything is wrong with porn sites, but for the love of cheese, they could at least take an acting class or two.

I was tired, and I was drained but that was nowhere near the amount of shock I had when I opened the door to my apartment and there was Ash sitting comfortably on the couch with a notepad, and an air mattress in the middle of the living room. Oh, and there were two people having sex on it. My mouth dropped open and I stared. It took me gasping before Ash finally looked up at me.

“We’re almost done.”

I thickly swallowed as I