Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“There you are,” Corinne says as she greets me on the front steps. “How are you, Catherine?” Then, she stops dead in her tracks and gasps. There’s no hiding her expression because it’s one of horror and pity.
“What?” I ask, looking down. My clothes seem okay, if a little wrinkled. “What’s wrong?”
“Come with me and keep your head down,” Corrie hisses as she pulls off her jacket and covers my head with it. “Mind telling me what you did last night?” she asks as she helps me into the library building. The muffled murmurs and whispers don’t help as we hustle towards the bathroom in back.
“What? I didn’t do anything special. Why, what is it?” I ask as we push through the bathroom doors. Corinne peels her jacket off me and leads me to the mirror. But before I can get a glimpse of my reflection, she spins me away.
“Don’t,” she warns. “Let me clean you up.”
I stare at her, perplexed.
“What are you talking about?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” Corinne says as she pulls several paper towels out of the dispenser and flips on the faucet.
“Corinne,” I grumbled, twisting my head in exasperation. “It can’t be that bad …”
But then, my mouth dropped open when I saw my reflection because my bangs were standing straight up off my forehead. The look wasn’t cute. My bangs were completely vertical, and looked like they’d been slimed in some kind of disgusting, yellowish gunk.
I gasped and immediately tried to fix it, but the strands were glued together and stiff like a dried-out paintbrush.
“See?” asked Corinne, handing me a wet paper towel. “Is that glue?”
I shook my head, my cheeks flaming.
“Um, no. Yes, it’s glue,” I continued quickly. “I must have fallen asleep with my glue stick nearby, and it got in my hair. You know how my room’s so messy and I just leave things lying around all the time.”
Corinne nodded sympathetically.
“Girl, clearly, you didn’t have time to look in the mirror before you left this morning.”
I futilely wipe at the sticky bangs, grimacing as I tug at my hair.
“No,” is my grim reply. “Not at all.”
Unfortunately, the white stuff in my hair isn’t glue, and I knew it. It had a slightly pungent, sweet scent that I recognized all too well. This was my pussy moisture. I’d dreamed of Hunter so much in my sleep that I’d orgasmed onto my hand. Then, later in the night, I must have brushed my palm through my bangs, leaving trails of honey stuck in my strands. Thus, the horrific hairstyle this morning.
But no one had to know about the real source of this so-called “glue.”
“Um yeah,” I dissembled. “It’s glue stick. I just got that new type of glue stick from the student store, and it’s super strong. What is it called again? Magic Glue?”
Corinne merely hands me another soaked paper towel, her eyes sympathetic.
“Whatever it is, it’s like concrete,” she remarks. “That shit is not coming out.”
I squinted at myself in the mirror again, desperately trying to wipe away the dried pussy juice. Finally, I get enough of it out so that my bangs flop over my forehead once again. They form a wet, messy fringe, but it’s better than looking like Cameron Diaz in There’s Something About Mary.
“Well, at least Marshall didn’t see you like that,” Corinne says sympathetically while swinging her book bag over one shoulder. “Now that would have been embarrassing.”
I just roll my eyes and toss my used towels into the trash. Filling my hands up with water, I splash cool liquid over my face while trying not to think about just how many people saw me with my hair sticking straight up.
Then I inhale deeply.
“Well, it doesn’t matter because I can honestly say that I won’t be seeing Marshall again. I went out with him a couple nights ago, and it was bad.”
Corinne clucks.
“You can’t be too hard on the boy. Maybe he was nervous or something. Lots of people get jitters when they go on dates.”
I shake my head.
“It’s not that, Corrie. Look at me,” I say, pressing my lips into a tight line. “You and I both know I could eat two of him and still be hungry. That boy is scrawny, and he’s so small that he would get lost in my layers. I would literally swallow him up with my flesh.”
“Oh my god, you’re so gross!” Corrie giggles. “You’re so over the top, Catherine.”
But I’m not done yet.
“Not to mention, the boy wears diapers.”
“No!” Corinne gasped cupping her hands to her mouth as her eyes bugged out. “Are you sure?”
“Oh yeah. I’m sure.”
“How do you know?” my best friend asks me.
“Trust me, I know,” I said. “We went out last week, and Marshall leaned over. He’s not exactly ‘in-shape’ so I wasn’t expecting a carved back and sculpted thighs. But I did not expect to see adult diapers peeking out from his waistband. At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes, but trust me, they were there. It wasn’t like, ‘Whoops, what is that?’ It was, ‘Hello world, this is what I am.’” I shook my head and rolled my eyes at the memory.