Once I’m done showering, I put on comfy clothes and grab one of my heating pads. Shoving it into the microwave to warm it up, I rest my palm against my abdomen.
Well, that sucked ass.
At least I’ve learned I’m not missing out on anything and will stick to my vibrator from now on.
Chapter4
Rosie
Wearing comfy sweatpants and a hoodie, I’m curled up on my chair with a heating pad pressed to my abdomen.
I’m doing my best to pretend the epic shit show that was my first sexual experience never happened last night.
Today, my lower belly aches like I’m dealing with the first day of a bad period. The cramps sit heavy and deep, radiating through my pelvis and making my legs numb.
All I want is to curl up in bed with my heating pad and pretend the world doesn’t exist, but I have work to do.
My main monitor zooms in on the underground parking level, and seeing Dad with a shopping bag, the corner of my mouth lifts.
I texted him at the crack of dawn, telling him I needed a lot of comfort food.
Minutes later, when he comes into the control room, I groan, “My hero.”
“PMS?” he asks.
“Yep,” I lie through my teeth.
“I’ll take over for the day so you can rest,” Dad offers.
“It’s not that bad. I can work.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head before sitting down on one of the other chairs that’s situated along the cresent shape workspace.
I wait for him to set the bag on the desk before I reach over and dig out a chocolate bar. “How’s Mom?”
“Good. She and your grandparents are going out later to check on a couple of the soup kitchens.”
Tyrone and Esmerelda aren’t related to me by blood, but they’re my grandparents in every other way that counts.
I love my parents’ story of how they got together. When Dad met Mom, she was barely making ends meet, and Tyrone was her neighbor who looked out for her.
She was a janitor at Dad’s ballet company and would dance after everyone left. Dad caught her red handed and the rest is history.
Dad financed Mom’s non-profit organization, and since then she’s opened soup kitchens all over the state. Even though my parents are supposed to be retired, they’re still actively involved with all their passion projects. Especially the ballet company that holds a special place in their hearts.
I might have Mom’s olive-toned complexion and light brown hair, but I’m my father’s daughter. We both have two left feet when it comes to dancing and a natural affinity for anything computer-related.
Again, my monitor zooms in on the underground parking area, and when I see Enzo, I mumble around a bite of chocolate, “Wow, I wonder what got him out of bed so early in the morning.” I glance over all the wrappers, dirty plates and cups, and overfull trashcan. “He’s going to complain again.”
“I swear you make a mess just to piss him off,” Dad mutters before helping himself to a tin of Pringles.
I give him a serious look. “Only the one tin. You need to watch your cholesterol.”
“Yeah-yeah.”
I watch as Enzo keys in his code and steps into the first elevator.
I’ve done my best to put my crush on him to bed because there’s nothing more stupid than holding out for something that will never be.