Chapter Twenty-Two

· Twenty-Two ·

Will

I walk into Fee’s studio apartment, dropping my bag just inside the door and walking the creaky floorboards, then open up my phone and the group chat to send my RSVP. A groan leaves me when I see Juliet’s response.

Juliet: I’ll be there! And I’m definitely dressing on theme .

Dressing on theme? The theme, as I remember Australian Siri telling me, is dominatrices. I sigh heavily and thunk my head against the wall, trying to dislodge the image of Juliet dressed in tight black leather, smacking a whip against her palm.

It doesn’t work.

Pushing off the wall, I pace the room some more, hoping reading the rest of these texts will do the trick.

Sula: HELL YESSS LET’S GO!!

Margo: I’m taking bets on how many of us show up as a dominatrix.

Hamza: *gulps coffee*

Toni: Well, now I’ve got a costume to put together, so if you’ll excuse me, some of us have a job to do so we can close on time and hit the thrift store afterward.

Sula: I’m sitting five feet away from you, & the sum total of your work today has consisted of laughing at cat Reels on Instagram and painting your nails.

Toni: Excuse me, I have also been very diligently stamping bags with the Edgy Envelope logo.

Sula: While watching New Girl on your phone.

Toni: I can’t help that it’s been a quiet day at the shop!

Margo: You two, take your bickering to a side chat. Everyone else, get your costumes together & let’s meet outside at the club, 8pm sharp! Can’t wait!

Jamie: Just caught up on this over my tea break. I’m going to need 5 to 7 business days to process what I just read.

Sula: Too bad! You only have 7 hours! Good luck with those costumes!

Juliet: I went through a black leather phase in college & I’ve never been able to part with any of it, so I’ll be shopping from the comfort of my closet. If anyone else dressing on theme wants to start somewhere that costs zero $, let me know!

Another groan leaves me, because there’s the image again. Juliet. Black leather. All those curves. I’m nearly cross-eyed, I’m so turned on by the thought. Only by the grace of autocorrect does my response make a lick of sense:

Will: Late to this, but I’m in. Appreciate the invite!

Sula: Yes, Will!!! We’re at 100% attendance, folks (let the record show that I didn’t invite Bianca & Nick but only because they already told us they’re off doing cute coupley shit this weekend). SEE YOU THERE!

Toni: Jules, what kind of black leather are we talking?

Juliet: Photos incoming.

When the first image comes in, my phone clatters to the floor.

Juliet: Oopsie! Meant that just for Ton. Please disregard.

The image vanishes with a pop as she unsends it, but I can’t unsee it. A shiny black bustier. The thought of that wrapped around her waist, pushing up her—

“Dammit.” I bend over the dresser and thunk my head even harder than I did on the wall.

Here I was, so relieved that Juliet and I would have something to do after this romantic dinner I have planned, that there’d be no loaded silences as I drove her home, no temptation to walk her upstairs and past her door and give in to this terrible, consuming want. But now that I know she’s going to be dressed like this?

I brace my hands on the dresser and stare at my reflection in the mirror mounted to it. And then I tell my reflection the truth:

“You are absolutely fucked.”