CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

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ANASTASIA GREEN CONSIDERED herself to be a strong woman. She never gave into peer pressure, always forced herself to study for her upcoming tests when she would much rather be getting high with Lola, never found herself falling for boy's stupid antics when they would hit on her at parties, she was mentally tough. And that mental toughness was something she prided herself on.

Except for this past week, that is.

And she wanted nothing more than to place a forbidden curse on just how head strong she was, and just how tough she really is. Because currently, she wanted nothing more than for Ethan to shove her into a secluded corner of Yost Arena and have his way with her.

It had been a tough week, to put it mildly.

After her and Mark had made their depart back to Ann Arbor from St. Clair, she was quick to insist on him just dropping her off at the freshman dormitories, claiming she wanted nothing more than to unpack, shower, and sleep in her and Lola's room. Which was only partially true– the other half was that she didn't know how she would react if she saw Ethan walk through the doors of the sophomore house. She didn't trust herself, which was a first for her.

The first time she saw Ethan after practice on the day after they all got back from break was– interesting to put it simply. Like a fog erupting from the depths of an intimidating forest, that laid just on the outskirts of a once calm town. Hennessy dripping slowly from the barrel that it was contained in, allowing an aroma to spread over the mountains that could be seen from above the sky. Anastasia felt a storm brewing inside her. But not the type she was expecting to feel.

There was just something about him that made her weaken. Whether that be her knees, or her mind, she was like putty in his hands.

She expected to feel like first ants crawling all over her skin, the usual smoothed tan turned into bumpy and red. She expected her vision to disappear into a faded filter of red whenever she heard his voice. She expected her mind to be clouded with nothing but anger– the beast that, to the best of her ability, she contained, to finally show its claws, ripping apart her chest and wanting to wish death upon the man the made her fragile heart crack.

But the opposite seemed to happen.

Mondays were never good. No one looked forward to the starting day of the work week, which meant classes resumed, as did the added stress of her education on her shoulders. But Monday had one thing that Anastasia looked forward to– the hockey team's Monday Question segment.

As Sofia and Anastasia waited near the stairs, with one of their phones and their tiny little microphone ready, a cluster of buzzing bees made its way into her veins. She almost didn't trust herself to be around him. The sounds of various sentences and the clattering of sticks let the two media admins know that the boys had finished with their first practice back since break. She inhaled deeply, and mentally prepared herself for the anger that was getting ready to consume every ounce of her wellbeing.

She waited. As Ethan, Mackie, and Luke made their way up the stairs. She waited, as she heard him laugh at something Mackie had said. She waited, as she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up when she saw his back turned towards her when the boys had finally finished their ascend up the stairs. She waited, as she saw his smile falter slightly when he finally turned to look at her, his helmet still on, which made it harder for her to read what exactly was going on in his head. She waited, as she walked up to stand between the boys, of course, Ethan had to be on her left and Luke on her right, and Mackie stood off to the side as he took off his gloves.

She waited.

She waited.

She waited.

And it never came. The ferocious anger that she had felt brewing inside her all day, had dissipated into thin air. She was expecting to feel empty, at the loss of the emotion. Like something was missing, a puzzle piece that just so happened to be on the floor. She told herself that one look in his eyes, one brush of a touch from him and that anger will come boiling back up to the surface. But it never did.

Anastasia motioned to Sofia to start recording, "Hello and welcome back to yet another Monday, with yet another question," she smiled, trying oh, so hard to stop her hands from shaking as she held onto the ungodly small microphone. "Today I am here with," she trailed off, getting a sense of Deja vu as she waited for the boys to tell the audience their names. And that's when it all clicked in her head, and exactly why the anger that she once possessed had fizzled out. It was the feeling of his fingers around her wrist, the feeling of her being so small in his grip. He had reached over her and pulled the microphone in his direction after Luke had said his name so that he could introduce himself. The feeling of longing, the feeling of desperate touches, the feeling of lust.

Huh, who would've thought that her body didn't react the way her mind expected it to. It seemed that over the break, she had allowed herself to forget just how attractive Ethan Edwards truly was. He was like a gift.

She was briefly unaware at how her pupils had doubled in size as she looked at where his fingers still held onto her wrist, the way her lips jutted out, as she suppressed an inaudible gasp that got caught in her throat. Key word being: briefly. She regained her composure quickly, not allowing herself to feel whatever the fuck was quickly overcoming her. She rolled her shoulders back and pretended that her skin didn't feel like it was on fire when she pulled her wrist away from his grip. "The question is were Ross and Rachel on a break?" To her surprise, she spoke the words without any hiccups, without any stammers or heavy breathing. And even though she was briefly unware about how she reacted on the outside to Ethan's touch, she was all too aware about how her body was reacting on the inside.

Her stomach flipped, her throat felt dry, and a heat began to flicker between her thighs. To Anastasia's defense, she didn't want to feel like this. She didn't want to feel the all too familiar throbbing in her lower stomach– all from his touch. Anastasia fucking hated herself at the moment, for allowing herself to be encapsulated by him. She had almost forgotten just how angry she was at him, just how he cracked her love-filled heart. And she tried telling herself that, tried reminding herself of the pain and mental exhaustion he had put her through just last week. But, even her oh, so strong mind couldn't oppress the desire that was replacing the once anger-filled hole.

"Uh, I'm gonna have to go with no," Mackie's voice interrupted her brain's attempt to scold itself. She moved the microphone over into his direction, a small smile on her lips as she tried to act normal. "As a Friends fanatic, Ross and Rachel weren't on a break, because they never officially broke up. And in a relationship, a break just means spending time away from each other, not a free for all to see other people." Mackie stated in the most PG way he could. And his slight-rant on the whole situation made Anastasia stifle a giggle, as she remembers just how much her cussed out Ross for being a 'little pussy bitch' to put it into his own words.

Luke's smile was small as he tried to think of an answer. And neither nor Anastasia rushed him, they were aware about how he never liked to be in front of the camera. Which was ironic since he was probably one of the best hockey players she had ever seen. But thanks to a little insight from his girlfriend, Anastasia was made aware of the fact that he felt more comfortable with Sofia behind the camera. His reasoning? No one knew. "I'm gonna have to go with no too because I think if I were to say yes Stassie would kill me," he chuckled, running a hand over his face to wipe away the sweat he had conjured up during practice. Which, according to Lola was surprisingly difficult considering the team had just had a week off.

Like always, Lola was the one sent down to the ice to be the trainer on duty during practice, and Anastasia stayed up in the trainers office, organizing different bandages that were delivered during Thanksgiving break. And if she was being honest, Anastasia was shocked that Lola actually made it to practice, instead of using one of her over-used excuses.

She shrugged, a small smile on her face as she mouthed 'it's true' to Sofia, who could only giggle behind the camera.

Beside her, Ethan removed his glove and ran a hand through his sweaty hair, which just so happened to be at the exact same moment that Stassie turned and held the tiny microphone up to receive his answer. And like stated before, she was strong. At least that's what she told herself at the time to try and flicker out the flame of desire that was getting hotter and hotter. "I'm also gonna have to say no that they weren't on a break," he spoke, as he leaned down slightly towards Stassie.

And as if she couldn't get anymore sexually frustrated, the smell of him flooded her nostrils from how close he was to her. And as much as she hated to admit it– the smell of his cologne mixed with his musk made her light headed. She just hoped that her cheeks weren't flaming red, since she felt all the blood in her body start to boil. She hated just how spot on Lola was at calling her a bitch in heat.

But, to the best of her ability, she kept her award winning facade plastered on her face just praying that her eyes weren't betraying her, showing anyone who was around just how much she wanted, yearned for, him. "Care to elaborate on your answer?" She egged on, her voice mostly stable besides a shaky breath at the end of her words.

And that's when he knew what was going through her head. The imagines the undoubtedly flooded behind her eyes, pounding at the back of her skull. His hearing  seemed to focus on her uneven breathing, the rising and falling of her chest. He couldn't help but smirk as he looked down at her, his gaze flickering down to her parted lips for a milisecond before he leaned down once more into the microphone, "No." He answered curtly, before he, Mackie and Luke disappeared around the corner and into the locker room.

It was like neither of them wanted to actually talk about the pain that both of them expierienced. The emotions were still there by all means, the love that they hadn't confessed yet, the drought of the hard emotion. The love they held for each other could calm a war down, could move a mountain. But they still didn't resolve the anything, and the tension between them was sticky like honey.

Hard to explain and comprehend to those on the outside, but with that simple look that Ethan had given her, it was like the communicated telepathically. He was well aware that she was still beyond pissed at him, and she was well aware that he was still walking on egg shells around her. Something between them had shifted even though they still had yet to have that talk that Ethan promised. It was strange, odd, even. A feeling that couldn't be put into words because in her mind, she still fucking hated him. She still despised the way he was acting so cold towards her– but that's because she didn't know the full story.

The tension was between them was like molasses. Like a slow growing storm, as cold and hot air mixed into one another in the atmosphere of the Earth. Dark clouds hurdling towards unsuspecting residents. Especially the ones that laid bare in front of the orange glowing fire, the warm light soaking into each dimple of his back, each stretch mark that littered her hips, each birth mark that sparkled across his face. Their fingers interlacing, their minds memorizing the other's touch, and the sparks that erupted their nerves with electricity. The exact imagine that Ethan pictured his pretty girl in.

Currently, Anastasia's thighs were clamped tight around her hand, her forearm ached and her eyes were squeezed shut as the euphoric feeling eased the knot that was wound up tightly in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't help the small moan that left her chapped lips as her muscles twitched slightly from the intensity of her orgasm. She thanked god that Lola had an early morning band rehearsal before the game that evening because frankly, she didn't know how much more she could take. The glances that lasted too long, the feeling of wanting nothing more than him.

On one particular occasion that happened over the past week, the guys had invited the girls over for a movie night to watch Home Alone. Ethan had denied the request to join the group, as he claimed he had to catch up on homework before the game on Saturday. Not that she was complaining.

As the night went of, Anastasia just couldn't sit still in her seat next to Rutger for much longer. So, she got up and went up to Mark's room to change, her excuse being that the underwire of her bra was digging into her side uncomfortably, and that was enough for the guys to groan in unison, which meant that they didn't want to hear anymore.

As she opened the door to the bathroom after she changed, her nerves spiked in surprise as she was met with a bare chest, instead of the banister that over looked the living room. The movie could be heard from downstairs, and she thanked god because that meant she had a chance that he didn't hear just how loudly her heart was beating in her chest. She refused to lift her chin to meet his gaze, once again, not trusting herself (or her body, at that), to directly look at him. It was so much more intimate, and he was so much more intimidation than she remembered.

She went to squeeze out of the door way when he moved at the exact same time, and she just wanted to die on the fucking spot because of how embarrassing it was. It was like a cliché rom-com moment, where the main character and love interest have an unintentional run-in with the other, and can't seem to escape each other.

Anastasia went to stammer out a pathetic excuse for an apology before she felt Ethan's hands grasp at her hips, his fingers somehow finding a way to creep under Mark's oversized t-shirt that hung off her shoulder and onto her burning hot skin. He pulled her flush against his chest, and she still didn't lift her gaze from the gold chain that laid on his bare collar bones.

He could feel her hardened nipples through the thin material of the shirt, just from how close they were, and he couldn't help but let a shit-eating grin tug on the corners of his lips. She still wouldn't look at him, how cute. And it was as if he could read what was racing through her mind, he let out the quietest groan out past in lips and into her ear, as he stepped to the side and lightly shoved her into the hallway and out of the bathroom.

She turned around and watched the muscles in his back ripple as he reached behind him and shut the door, leaving Anastasia flustered, and embarrassingly horny in the upstairs hallway of the sophomore house. And as if her mind wasn't already heavy with overthinking, it now seemed like it weight a ton. Why wouldn't she look at him? Why did he touch her? Was that groan out of annoyance or something else? Why did she have to come upstairs to change? Fuck the underwire of her bra for being so uncomfortable.

Anastasia fluttered her eyes open, allowing her pupils to readjust to the light that was peeking through the closed blinds of her and Lola's shared dorm. She removed her hand from between her thighs and sighed loudly, letting out the frustration (both sexually and mentally) before she pulled on a loose pair of sweatpants, grabbed her shower caddy, and made her way down the hall to the communal bathrooms to get ready for the game that evening. She hoped and prayed that the all too-hot water would wash away any desire that her body seemed to hold for Ethan, telling herself that she was still downright pissed and heartbroken from her previous actions, and didn't want him between her thighs. She tried telling herself that the reasoning for her heartrate accelerating each time she glanced in his direction was because of how much she despised him, not how much she wanted him. She tried telling herself that her stomach fluttered because her mind reminisced on just how much he meant to her, not because she pressed her thighs together just from him being in the same room as her.

She tried.

She tried.

She tried.

But ultimately, her mind ceased the war with her body, and her conscience came into play. It was like the more her body longed for him, yearned for his touch, the more she found herself on the brink of forgiving him. Even though they hadn't directly talked for so far, the entire duration of being back on campus.

YOST ARENA WAS seemingly on fire. The lights were dimmed, as navy and yellow hues flooded the ices. Yells and shouts for their favorite team echoed off the walls, and Anastasia found herself smiling at just how electric the atmosphere was. She couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh to herself as she kneeled on the ice, placed just outside the team's bench, in the perfect position to catch some pictures of the boys the the hockey's socials during the national anthem. Her knees ached due to the hardness of the of ice, but it was certainly a hell of a lot better than refilling water bottles during the entire game.

Last night, Sofia had made a bet during a game of tipsy poker the girls played, that if she lost, she would take Stassie's roll during the game as a trainer-intern. And unfortunately for Sofia, she lost, as was stuck on the bench next to Lola refilling water bottles, with a first aid kit strapped around her hips in the form of a fanny pack. When Stassie first saw Sofia when her and Lola arrived at Yost, she couldn't help but laugh at the pissed off expression the sophomore girl wore, along with the bright red fanny pack.

She squinted into the lens of the camera as she aimed it at the boys, who were rocking back and forth of their skates at the band played the national anthem. She focused on taking pictures of the starters, and of course, the guys that the fans just couldn't seem to shut up about in the comments of their TikToks.

What? She knew how to please the audience. And if she was being honest, she couldn't blame them for wanting to see more of their favorite guys since the media admins the year before them seemed to seriously lack on their content.

And so, she mainly took photos of Mackie, Luke, Mark, and her boyfriend (?). Her heart still churned over the fact that the question of whether or not they were together lingered. She loved him like no other, the sun to her moon, the missing star in her constellation. He was equivalent to the feeling of laying in your bed after a long, tiring day. The sound of waves crashing against the shoreline as the birds that inhabited the beach sang, flying the in the skies above. He was peace. He was the one who could flood the drought of love in her mind. Was, is a word that Anastasia didn't know still applied to her and Ethan or not. Maybe did? Maybe, going to be was more appropriate? She just couldn't quite put her finger on what they were, exactly. But what she did know was that he was the first love she had ever felt.

It was a weird time to be thinking about all of this, to be separating her mind into these pointless lists. Especially when the sound of the whistle blaring throughout the arena nearly deafened her because she hadn't mentally prepared herself for the noise.

She joined in with the crowd, and Lola and Sofia who sat beside her as they yelled cheers of encouragement for the boys on the ice. It was the first game back from the week-long break and they were playing their rivals who were placed in Lansing. Blue and maize were the main colors that swarmed the bleachers behind the home bench, and gold and white was the statement that stuck out in support for Notre Dame.

All throughout the game, the girls were on the edge of their seat. Anastasia made sure not to neglect the camera that hung around her neck– and took various photos of the boys while they were out on the ice as she often at times caught herself too immersed in the game; yelling at the refs for a couple shit calls, and screaming profanities at the Notre Dame players as they would race by the home bench.

But it was when they were up by four, that Ethan just decided to pick a fucking fight.

The crowd turned louder, spurring on the punches that were being thrown left and right between the two men. The girls practically jumped up from the bench, along with the guys who were out as well. Lola and Sofia scrambled, each of them diving into the fucking stupid first aid fanny pack, grabbing various items– Lola, with a thing of gauze and an icepack, and Sofia with a roll of coban and a band aid. Good thing neither of them were going into the medical field.

It all happened so fast, one second, Ethan was on top of the random Notre Dame player and the next he was being escorted off the ice and into the locker room.

"Oh shit is he okay?"

"Of course not dipshit, he got thrown out the game,"

Anastasia picked at her nails out of anxiety, as he skated right past the home bench and under the bowl of the arena. His fit of rage could be heard down the hall, the sound of his stick clattering against the floor, laying forgotten in two pieces. Coach Naurato ran his hand through his hair as he sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, his mind teetering between what would be the best decision to make. "McGroaty, you're in," A few murmurs of spread throughout the team that sat on the bench, which didn't help the stressed out coach. "For the love of god, will you men shut up, and will one of you girls go check if he's alright, preferably, Anastasia," He stood intimidatingly beside her, his hands on his hips as he looked out to the ice. And what she hated most about that sentence was that he had a point– out of the three girls that sat on the bench with the team, she was the most qualified to help out an injured player.

She tensed up, digging her nails into her palm as her hands were clenched in fists at her side. Of course it had to fucking be her. She closed her eyes quickly, returning to the oasis that she has been finding herself escaping to all too often over the past week. Except the getaway inside her mind was clouded with a fog of agonizing sexual tension. Sofia placed a soft hand on her shoulder, which caused her to open her eyes and look down at what she was holding in front of her– the fanny pack. "You'll probably need this," she let out a small chuckle, trying to ease the nerves that she already knew were making themselves known. "And don't worry, Lo and I put the shit back since we don't even know what we're doing."

Anastasia pulled her lips into a tight lipped smile, and grabbed the bright red bag from her hands. She maneuvered her way past the team whose attention had returned back onto the game that had resumed sometime during her escape to her internal oasis. She turned around and lazily saluted to two girls who watched as she unwillingly made her way down the tunnel out of sight.

"You think they're gonna fuck?"

"Just, fill up the bottles, Lo."

It seemed like she had been walking forever, when in reality it had only been a mere few seconds. She huffed as she made it at the top of the stairs, mentally preparing herself for whatever she was about to walk into, and scolding herself internally for not going on her morning runs more often than she would like.

The blue lights from the locker room created this aura, and only made the unseen tension hotter. Like the exordium to an insightful piece of literature, Anastasia was hooked. And as loud and obnoxious as her already conflicted mind was yelling at her to just turn around and go against Coach's orders, her consciences was just becoming too much, and seeped inside her mind and clouded her mental toughness against the hatred she currently held for her first love.

Leonardo Divinci had to of painted the beautiful artistic scene that played out in front of her. He sat at his at his locker, the number 73 and his last name 'Edwards' clearly displayed above the wood paneling. He was adorned in his just his padding, his hair sweaty, as a couple strands laid over his forehead. And from what she could see, just at the entrance of the locker room, he was leaned back, his head thrown back, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed harshly. His eyes were closed and his lips were parted, his chest moved with his slow and controlled breathing. She trailed her gaze down his body– his thighs spread wide, and in his lap, he was holding his right hand, the quietest wince drew from his lips as she ran his thumb over his knuckles.

Of course, he actually needed her help.

She thought she was being quiet. She thought that she hadn't made her presence known just yet, given then fact that she hadn't even entered the locker room yet.

"I can hear your breathing from here, Stas," His voice was deep and raspy, and the sound of it made the insufferable heat spread in her lower stomach once more. Just like it had during every one of their non-verbal interactions this week. His words didn't scare her, or catch her off guard, it was like their consciences were interlaced in the most wanting of ways.

She made her way over to him, hesitantly and slowly, her fingers felt like they were going to fall of just from how tight she was gripping the fanny pack that glowed the the blue light of the room. Her legs stopped her to stand directly in front of him, his eyes now open as he looked at her, and she swore she saw his gaze darken. Just slightly. She remained quiet, once again, not trusting herself to speak, and using all of her mental capacity to not place herself on his lap and fuck him right here in the locker room of all places.

Had she ever had sex before? No. But with how her body had been acting this past week, she didn't care where she lost her virginity, as long as it was with him.

Anastasia hated the way the air felt around them, the thickness of it, like quick sand hiding amongst a rainforest. It was sudden and abrupt, and somehow, even her strong mind couldn't pull her out of the lust-filled atmosphere. She still had yet to look at him directly in the eyes, her gaze trained on his injured hand as she lowered herself on her knees in front of him, and began digging through the fanny pack to look for some type of alcohol wipe. She could feel his eyes, on the top of her head, on her neck, down her shirt, to her thighs that were strained against the material of her leggings.

But thank god for her mind for recuperating, as she somehow found the strength to shake off the desire and begin her work on his fucked up hand. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, like he did so just this past Monday, and placed it palm down along the top of his thigh.

Ethan thought he was going to fucking explode.

The feeling her her soft touch, as she worked the alcohol wipe along the cuts on his knuckles. Sure, it hurt like a bitch, the anti-bacterial liquid seeping into his blood stream and killing any disease-prone-thing would hurt anyone. But it was the fact that she was the one fixing him up. The girl that made him feel at peace, the one who fully healed him from Alyssa, even without his own knowledge of the fact. And it was also the fact that she looked so fucking hot at the moment– her hair tucked behind her ears, which allowed him to fully see her.  The small furrow that appeared between her eyebrows as she focused on his hand and not him. The gold, heart shaped pendant that dangled from her neck, and the lightly pink bralette that covered the tops of her breasts oh, so beautifully, thanks to the oversize Michigan sweatshirt she wore that hung off her shoulder. He could also see the flushed skin that was practically burning underneath her freckles, thanks to the blue light in the locker room. And not to mention the fact that she was on her knees in front of him, looking as cute and innocent as ever. When he knew the not-so-innocent images that were flashing in her brain.

He felt his dick twitch when she placed a light hand on his other thigh to stabilize herself as she got up. He hadn't even realized that she had wrapped up his hand because he was too focused on the mental image of him fucking her right here in the locker room. Her moaning his name like it was a prayer, her head tilted up in pleasure as he brushed that spot inside her that made her toes curl. Maybe he would even place his hand flat on her stomach and press down ever so slightly, which would only cause a particularly loud whine to tumble from her lips.

It was like she was taunting him, as she bent down and packed the medical supplies back into the fanny pack in front of him.

To be completely honest, Ethan wanted nothing more than to properly explain himself and the reasoning behind why he acted the way he did. Of course, it wouldn't be the full story since his first love's manipulation was just that good, but it would still be better than nothing. Which is the source of the pang of guilt he felt in his chest at all the lewd images that flooded his mind. He wanted to hold her, and mutter a string of apologies in her skin and he kissed her everywhere.

But it was that look that the two briefly exchanged on Monday, that let him know just how he was going to earn her forgiveness. And he was having probably, just a little bit too much fun trying to get her to break, trying to get her to at least look at him, at least talk to him. It had suddenly turned into a game between the two. The goal of the game? He didn't know.

And it was also the look she had given him just now, when she straightened up and started to make her way to exit the locker room. She fucking smirked at him, her eyes glinting with something that Ethan only ever saw when he was between her thighs. "Not even gonna talk to me, huh?" He knew he sounded cocky, even though he was more than aware about the fact that he was the sheer cause of the drift that widened between them. But he could read her like no other, and the shift from her once sensitive and heart broken side, to something that will eventually lead to much more was something only he could sense. Something that will solidify the love the two unknowingly felt for each other.

She didn't even turn around as she flipped him off, her figure disappearing around the corner and out of sight, leaving him semi-hard, his head spinning like no other, and his heart about to burst out of his chest– just at the fact that she had willingly come so close to him. In the back of his mind, they were still in each other's arms, basking in the heat that the fire in front of them provided. His version of an oasis. Of course she was still mad at him, her forgiveness wasn't something that was easily earned. And he knew that.

The air that lingered between them wasn't just sexual tension, it was something more. It was two broken souls who have been deprived of one another for far too long. And both of them were just too stupid and ignorant to realize it. Their consciences were interlaced, just waiting for their minds to catch up.

But little do they know that they must mend, like angels accepting a sin, like feathers dancing in the wind on a particular windy day, in order for the story to continue.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

cliffhanger on this long ass chapter bc

i'm back to hating you guys

soooo i'm really proud of this bc it's actually showing that ethan and stassie are just COLLEGE students and just letting their bodies control how they  act around one another rather than their mind. and i'm actually really impressed w myself bc i think i wrote it really well and i'm hoping you guys think to same😖😖 (jk idc it's my book)

I TOLD YOU GUYS THE ANGST AND TENSION WAS COMINGGGGGG

that's all i'm gonna say bc mother doesn't wanna spoil too much

but seriously i hope you guys get where i'm coming from w this chapter bc it's gonna lead to a can of worms that is MESSY let me just say

that whole little party thing was just a baby step lolz

y'all trying to guess what's gonna happen

as always, don't forget to drink water, take your meds, and masturbate (especially after this chapter, it's needed)😘😘