This is it.
Tonight’s the night.
I’ve made plans to cook for Becca after hearing Justin say that he and Elise are going to be staying at her place tonight. So far, I’ve cleaned my bathroom, changed the sheets on my bed, bought condoms, showered, manscaped, and now I’m standing in the kitchen as nervous energy skates through my stomach.
I can’t believe I’m actually nervous. I’m never nervous. Not even when we’re down by two goals and playing for the championship.
And I should clarify—I’m not nervous about having her here, or cooking. I’m nervous because we’ll probably have s*x for the first time tonight, and every part of me wants to make this perfect for Becca.
A buzzing over my intercom an hour before I’m expecting her makes my brows pull together. Did she mix up the time?
I hit the
