PlotBloomI push the empty wine glass onto the nightstand and sit up, I'm not even buzzed, Carol. She canceled dessert in a huff again tonight—something about “encouraging bad habits”—and stomped off like the uptight little sister she’s always been. Rob just shrugged and finished his beer. Typical.
I scroll through my phone one more time. Tight abs. Smooth chests. College boys posing in gym mirrors like they know exactly what they’re doing to women like me. My skin feels too warm. That familiar deep ache settles low in my belly and between my thighs—HRT’s constant reminder that my body wants what it wants. I’ve gone too long without. Way too long.
I stand, straighten the little sleep shirt that barely covers my ass, and pad down the hall. Soft knock on his door.
“Hey… you still up?”
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