Page 79 of Sex Positive

Her chest fills with warmth, and for a heart-stopping moment, she thinks,He’s gorgeous. She wants to press her face against the exposed skin at the base of his throat, wants to peel off his clothes, press her mouth to his pulse, run her fingers over the ridges of his stomach, trace the lines with her lips. It’s dangerous and thrilling, but she turns her gaze to the bottle of prosecco, trying to steady her racing heart.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” she asks.

A shadow crosses his face while he fiddles with the boxes on the table. “It was fine. How was yours?”

She watches him, but he gives nothing else away. “Good. Relaxing.”

“Good.”

She rolls her eyes. “I suppose you can stay. You did bring me my favorite dessert, after all.”

He beams, his melancholy vanishing.

Returning to the stove, Charlie slides the cooling cookies onto the waiting wire rack. “I have to put in another batch.” When she turns for the mixing bowl, she catches him dipping a finger into the batter.

“Quinn!” she half laughs, half shrieks.

Popping his finger in his mouth, he dodges her attempt to swat his hand, and she watches his tongue drag along his bottom lip.

“Tastes good,” he says.

Her cheeks heat. “Wait untilthosecool.” She points to the ones next to the stove. “There’s raw egg in there.”

“Please. As if that ever stopped anyone from licking the bowl.”

Charlie, holding back a grin, scoops another dozen dough balls onto the baking sheet. Wes slides onto one of the barstools, observing her. She arches a brow, feeling much more at ease than she did five minutes ago.

“Yes?” she says.

Leaning his elbows on the counter, he props his chin on his fists in a pose of childlike innocence. “Aren’t you going to tell me how the sex fair is going?”

She laughs, and his smirk transforms into a grin.

The semester finished in a flurry of final exams and papers, and Charlie woke on the first day of break feeling like she could take on every man in Congress who believed they could tell women what to do with their bodies. This was in large part due to the fact that she’d finally booked a space for the expo—Warren Park, a lush location with an expansive lawn only a mile away from campus that frequently hosted summer concerts. Betsy Jacobs would be the headliner, and Charlie had booked two more comedians as well. Carolyn had booked a drag queen—Cleo Torres—as the MC for the raffle and silent auction, and Diana had finalized the website. Just before Christmas, Carolyn soft-launched her marketing campaign on social media, and she plans to ramp it up after tickets go on sale January first.

Tomorrow.

Thinking of this sends a flutter of anticipatory nerves through Charlie’s stomach.

Vibes Come First agreed to set up a booth selling and showcasing their products, and one of their founders was scheduled to appear on a panel discussing vibrators and sex toys and how to pick the right ones. Theo would do a live recording of his podcast, complete with a meet-and-greet.

“As long as Victoria agrees to do it with me,” he said when Charlie called him a few days ago, sounds of the beach in the background.

While there was plenty more to do, the progress she’d made in two weeks was tremendously gratifying.

In between planning, she and Syeda binged old sitcoms from the early aughts, rewatched the entire fifth season ofLove Island UK, and ordered all their favorite takeout.

Yesterday, however, Bri called. Sy looked up from her carton of biryani, panic flashing across her face. She’d seemed to be coping well enough, but Charlie suspected it was largely a front.

“What do I do?” she whispered, as if Bri was in the room with them.

“Do you want to talk to her?” Charlie asked.

Sy hesitated. “I mean…kind of.”

“Go on.” Charlie gave her a reassuring nod. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

She disappeared into her room, and when she reappeared thirty minutes later, a small, cautious smile graced Sy’s lips.