Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 15021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
I retch again at the thought of having to go downstairs tomorrow and see him pour out his stupid sugary chocolate cereal like an overgrown five-year-old and pretend nothing happened.
This is a disaster of epic proportions.
At the sink, I wash out my mouth with a handful of water and then catch sight of myself in the mirror. My black lace bat mask is still in place, but my white face make-up is smudged, and my lipstick is nonexistent. I look at myself objectively, trying to work out if Harrison could have guessed. With my purple eyes and a lot of my face covered by the mask and my wig, I can’t see how he would have suspected. I kept my voice level different the whole time. I didn’t slip once. When I left the house before the party, I was totally convinced he would never guess. My heart rate normalizes as I begin to doubt my panic-induced freakout. Harrison can be a real charmer. I know this. He has a silver tongue. That must be what the ‘princess’ comment was all about. Just him rolling out the smooth moves.
Maybe I’m worrying about nothing. I take some steadying deep breaths, holding onto the edge of the sink. Then, when I feel more normal, I start removing my costume. Each layer that I peel away makes me feel better. I stuff the whole thing into a bag and hide it at the back of my closet in a large, white cardboard box that houses my memorabilia. I take out the contacts and use make-up remover pads to scrape away the remnants of the white face-paint and smoky black eyeliner. When my skin is clean, I peel down my holdups and panties and remove my bra. It’s late to have a shower, and I know the damn pipes will groan loudly when I turn it on, but I feel like I need to wash if nothing else to soothe my poor lady bits. I find water really cathartic when I’m stressed, and it’s nice to wash my hair that has been squashed under the hot wig.
I towel myself dry and get into some cute pajamas that are made of silk and so soft against my skin. I’m thirsty, so I pop downstairs to get some water. The house is quiet, and I look around at my home that has changed so much over the past year. Lacey has been redecorating, which is great. The place had been getting pretty shabby. She has a bit of a thing about photographs and always insists we have ‘family’ pictures taken on any special occasion. There are five framed shots of me, dad, Lacey, and Harrison in the hall alone. We look kind of awkward in all of them, but I guess maybe that’s why Lacey has been trying so hard to unite our family. I stare at the most recent one and notice for the first time that Harrison seems to look at me. If I remember correctly, dad had been goofing around, telling one of his ridiculously unfunny jokes. I’m laughing, and so is Lacey, and I always thought that Harrison was looking amused in the picture, but now that I’m studying it more closely, his expression seems warm and kind of affectionate.
I shake my head, feeling ridiculous for overlaying my sentimental feelings into something that’s probably as innocent as I had previously thought it was. I’m reading too much into everything, and I know it’s my sex brain that’s to blame. It’s a girl thing, I think. We sleep with someone, and somehow, all these feelings are pumped into our bodies, and we become weak. I don’t want to be weak for Harrison. I need to be strong now so that I have the courage to move on and pretend everything is normal.
Back in my room, I close my door, turn off the light, and slip under my comforter. With my whirring brain, it’s hard for me to sleep, but I must fall into the dream-world at some point because it’s light in the room when I come around. I feel hotter than usual and push my arms out of the covers and stretch. I always go to sleep on my side facing the wall and have woken up in the same position. It’s a few seconds before my mind catches up with my body, and I realize what I did last night. I moan softly, remembering in flashes the amazing sex and that terrible moment when Harrison called me princess.
“That’s the noise I like to hear,” Harrison’s voice whispers from behind me.
I turn, scrabbling with the covers to find him lying on the other side of my king bed, hands behind his head as though he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.
“What the fuck, Harrison,” I stutter, pulling the comforter around my neck to protect my modesty. It’s a stupid reaction bearing in mind what we did less than twelve hours ago, but what can I say? I’m running on gut reactions here.