my chest.
“Does it feel good, baby?” I kiss the skin at the nape of her neck.
“Mmhmm.” She rides my finger.
I pinch her clit. She turns her face to the side, and my lips meet hers. I capture her cries in my mouth as she comes undone.
“Feel better?” I kiss her again when her body has calmed.
“Much better.” She grins. She turns in my arms and reaches for the button of my jeans.
I grab her hand, halting her progress. “Later.” I chuckle. “Quinn might have a coronary if you’re gone too long.”
“True,” she says. “I love you.” She stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine.
“I love you.”
She checks herself over before opening the laundry room door.
“Wait,” I say.
She turns back to me.
I lick my thumb and rub it across her nose. “You have flour on your nose.”
She giggles. “Thanks,” she says and steps out.
As I walk back to the living room, I hear her tell Quinn that it was a false alarm and the clothes are fine.
“False alarm, huh? Interesting. Your cheeks are pretty red there,” Quinn calls Alma out.
“Really? I don’t know why.” Alma washes her hands in the sink.
“Oh, I think you do,” Quinn teases.
“You’d know since I haven’t been able to enter our dorm room at night for a month.” Alma chuckles.
“Touché. You got me there.” Quinn grins. “You’re going to burn the potatoes, by the way.”
“No, I’m not. They’re going to be perfect.”
Their playful bickering continues, and I turn my attention back to the game on TV.
A while later, the five of us are seated at my large dining room table. A feast of food sits in the center of the table, and it all looks and smells delicious. We raise our crystal glasses filled with champagne, and Alma toasts to good friends and good food.
The food is incredible, and I make sure to tell the girls that repeatedly. I can’t remember the last Thanksgiving meal I had where I wasn’t high on something. This entire dinner is a whole new world for me. I have other friends besides Ethan. I’m fucking in love with a girl. And, damn … has stuffing always been this tasty?
I suppose being sober has its perks.
“What’s the secret ingredient in these mashed potatoes, Quinn? Fucking ecstasy? They’re incredible,” I say.
“Those are all Alma,” she answers.
I internally kick my ass for having doubted Alma’s culinary skills. The urge to ask Alma to marry me on the spot and feed me mashed potatoes for the rest of our days surfaces, but I push it down. Instead, I shove another bite of the starchy masterpiece into my mouth.
“They have sea salt, fresh ground pepper, butter, sour cream, milk, cream cheese, and a little garlic. They’re totally not healthy, but my parents would’ve been fine with having kale smoothies for Thanksgiving, if they celebrated, so I go a little overboard on some of the dishes. I actually adapted it from Amos’s mom’s recipe. She doesn’t add the garlic or cream cheese.”
“Alma’s potatoes are better than my mom’s.” Amos shoots Alma a reassuring smile.
“Thanks. Though to be fair, his mom is an incredible cook.”
“She is, but so are you,” he tells her.
“And so is Quinn,” Alma adds, and Amos quickly agrees.
“Well, thank you, ladies. This is really nice,” Ethan says.
“You’re welcome,” Quinn answers. “So, during Thanksgiving dinner, my family likes to go around the table and have everyone say something that they’re thankful for this year.”
I scoff, “God, your family sounds so nice and normal.”
Quinn grins. “I’ll go first. I’m thankful for my awesome roommate, becoming a Sigma Sigma Sigma—the best sorority on campus—for meeting new people, and for my mom’s new job.”
Ethan says, “I’m thankful that I finally saved enough money to buy a car and that my dad’s cancer is in remission.”
“I’ll go!” Alma says. “I’m thankful for Eastern and my scholarship, for being a short drive away from my bestie, for a job that I love, friends that I love, and new experiences with people that I love.” Her eyes catch mine.
Amos says, “I’m thankful that I aced my midterms and currently have a 4.0. I’m thankful for the new people I’ve met and for a mutt of a girl who crashed into my life, covered in mud, years ago.”
Alma smiles across the table to Amos. I find it odd that he isn’t thankful for Quinn—without whom, he would only be getting action from his hand—but whatever. If he’s dumb enough not to feign being thankful for her, that’s on