Haze by Andrea Wolfe (best motivational books for students txt) 📕

"I'm going to head off to bed," Jesse finally said. I knew it was coming eventually, so I had braced myself for it. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks so much." It was all I had.

"I owed it to you for the ice cream. Don't beat yourself up too much."

"I won't," I said. "I'll beat myself up just the right amount."

He smiled. "Goodnight, Effie."

After he left, I realized I had been sitting in my wet clothes the whole evening. I shut off the TV and then took a hot shower, thoroughly appreciating the cleansing stream of water. I felt good again, but I was worried that it would be a different story when I tried to fall asleep.

After the shower, I tossed my clothes in the hamper and got into bed. I checked my phone for the first time since I had been caught in the storm: five missed calls from Jesse and one text from Jack. I wasn't sure if I should open it.

My willpower failed.

Him: It will all be okay, Effie.

It was unspecific yet positive, and its emotional claws started to dig into my tractable flesh. I felt that knot start to form in my stomach, but I fought it as hard as I could. Overwhelming pangs of guilt were the last thing I needed before trying to fall asleep.

You're just doing it until the deal is over and Sam calms down.

I kept saying those words to myself over and over again. Each time they felt more and more like self-flagellation than reassurance. Being alone felt off, but then again, what did I expect during a break? Taking a break involved being apart, so everything was going according to schedule.

My schedule. The thing I supposedly wanted.

Let it go for now, Effie. It'll all be fine. Jack even says so...

If I could make it through this, I'd know my feelings were authentic, not just lust-crazed, thoughtless bursts of emotion and obsession that only mattered in the short-term. There was also that notion of pride, the desire to keep my job and move up in the world.

If I could make it through this...

What did that even mean? It wasn't chemotherapy or something. I wasn't dying. I'd be okay. Something told me that, at least. Unfortunately, just because it was okay didn't mean that it would be easy or uncomplicated. I could foresee that already.

Just let it go...

Thankfully, sleep was good to me that night.

Chapter 12

I hated to admit it, but the break was actually mollifying me, even after only a day. My mind seemed less cluttered, especially since I didn't have to lie to Sam if he questioned me.

Sorry, Sam, I joked to myself, recalling a previous incident. I can't make it out to lunch because I'm meeting my grandma for tea. Maybe tomorrow?

I would then proceed to go eat with Jack at some fancy, upscale place and be back to work five minutes early. And then, I'd be embarrassed when I later forgot my story. It was a little ridiculous sometimes. No wonder Sam was suspicious...

I actually wanted to brag about the things I did with Jack, so keeping them buried only served to frustrate me. This relationship was providing me with something like clarity, even if it wasn't perfect. I didn't really have anyone outside of Jesse and Laura whom I could even mention him to, at least not yet.

At night, however, I went to bed filled with bittersweetness with regard to my decision. As far as my emotions were concerned, Jack wasn't going anywhere. I took deep breaths until I numbed the longing that I felt—but that didn't work for long.

I'd inadvertently start thinking about the incredible sex we had, and dammit, I wanted more of it. I would start imagining the intensity of his expression as he fucked me, his arms pinning mine to the bed as he made me call out his name over and over again...

This was tough.

Stroking his chest with my hands, feeling his taut pecs flex as I fought to maintain a rational mind amidst so much pleasure. In and out, filling me and then leaving and coming back for more as soon as he departed. I remembered it so well, felt it like it was really happening.

My fingers would crawl slowly down my body until they were right against that sensitive flesh, as if I were Jack's very own marionette, subconsciously doing what I wished Jack was doing instead of me.

Even though I was in tune with my own body, Jack still did it better—even in my imagination. Plus, there were other senses as well when we were together, watered down from the real thing in my fantasies. I wanted that so badly. I would come and gasp loudly, louder every time than I had intended, my climax mildly shameful yet full of relief.

Was this how teenage boys felt? It was always such a joke, but in reality, this was something serious. I wasn't entirely unfamiliar with pleasuring myself, but it wasn't really my style, either. I definitely wasn't used to lust like this; that was clear.

Thursday afternoon rolled around—time was moving fast, but not nearly as fast as I would have liked, especially since there was no news of the deal—and Sam and I were sitting there eating sandwiches that he had offered to buy from a local deli. My Reuben was gigantic and would probably wind up serving as both lunch and dinner. Our need to chew was the only thing that interrupted our casual chatter. He seemed to be in a delightful mood.

It had been three days since the incident where I ran into Sam. He hadn't mentioned it, and I had forgotten too, quite possibly due to the poignant events that followed.

"How was that restaurant the other night, Sam?" I asked. I presented the question as innocently as possible. "Did you ever find it?"

He looked shocked that I had asked, his benign expression fading fast. "Huh?"

His tone made me take