Nothing Freaky

Two days ago, Serena Hart would've laughed in your face if you told her she'd crash at some random white boy's place after a high school house party she hadn't even been invited to.

And yet, there she was.

Sprawled out the night before on a stranger's couch—well, not a stranger, not really. Not anymore. Because Serena knew three things now, and she knew them in her bones.

1. Joey Granger was special.
2. She wanted him.
3. And there was absolutely nothing freaky about that.

Nothing in those truths needed deep thought. No, they were as plain as the nose on her face. They just made sense. The kind of deep sense that clicked right into place, like truth fitting a lock. Something had shifted when she saw him at the hotel, like he'd flipped a switch inside her that had been waiting years to be turned on. And she had been turned on ever since.

So. Very. Turned. On.

He was hot. Like, undeniably hot. In all her years, she had never looked at a guy like Joey and thought he was hot, having traditionally gone for men who were tall, muscular, and significantly higher concentration of melanin in their skin. The last twenty-four hours had been revelatory, not only introducing her to a new man to get with, but also giving her new context, new ways of seeing the world. Big, strong guys were a dime a dozen. Short, skinny, pale guys like Joey were intensely attractive. Well, not really guys like Joey—just Joey.

Serena wasn't the only one, either. Last night she'd sat in a bedroom filled with women who felt the same way as her, drawn to his undeniable sexiness, wanting, no, needing to be with him. And apparently, she was allowed to want him. They all were.

No rules. No judgment. No freakiness.

Just facts.

It was morning now. She stood barefoot in the dining room next to Eliza, the redhead who claimed to be Joey's history teacher—a fact Serena should have found weird. But she didn't. Eliza was gorgeous and weirdly submissive, like she got off on taking orders. She and Serena had been wiping down furniture and collecting scattered party debris for the past hour under Donna's cheerful, obsessive direction.

Serena didn't clean for men. That was not her vibe.

But Joey wasn't men. He was... Joey.

And if Donna said the house had to sparkle for him, then Serena could make peace with a dust rag.

Still, her shift at The Renford started at noon, and she had to head home and change first. She looked at the mantle clock. Just after ten. Almost time.

Eliza excused herself, something about checking on the other girls. Serena watched her go, then turned her head toward the kitchen.

Voices.

She stepped closer, barefoot and curious. Donna and Joey, seated together at the breakfast nook, hands intertwined, faces close. Joey looked serious, and Donna looked like she was both comforting him and savouring it.

Serena had never seen a woman look quite so satisfied while wearing so little.

This was her moment.

She walked into the kitchen quietly. Neither of them saw her at first. They were locked in something private. But Serena didn't wait.

She stepped behind Joey, slipped her arms around him, and joined the embrace. Her cheek brushed his shoulder. She kissed his neck.

"Hi," she breathed.

He stiffened in surprise, but didn't pull away. Donna gave Serena a knowing look over Joey's shoulder, a little amused smirk playing on her lips. Then she stood, smoothed the front of her silk robe like a satisfied hostess, and excused herself.

That was all Serena needed.

She slid into the space Donna had vacated and pressed closer. Joey looked at her, hesitant, blinking like he was still catching up.

"Listen," she said, low and direct. "Let's cut to the chase. I've got to leave soon. Work. But I'm not leaving without this."

He opened his mouth, probably to stammer something awkward.

"I want to see you again," she continued. "I want to be with you. You don't know me yet, but I want you. And, let's be real, I'm hot. You're hot. In fact—" she smiled, "—you're like the hottest guy I've ever met. So can we just admit there's something here? Something worth exploring?"

He started to say something: "I don't really—"

But she kissed him.

Hard.

All mouth, all want, all permission.

His hands found her waist. His breath caught. She moaned against his lips. He stood up without thinking, arms pulling her closer.

They kissed again, deeper this time, and she felt the heat between them surge like a fire being fed.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Serena smiled. Her lipstick had left a faint trace on his lips. She saw his phone on the counter and, without asking, picked it up and opened the messages.

She typed in her number.

"There," she said. "I have your number. You have mine. I'll call you after my shift tonight."

She handed him the phone back and winked. Then, slowly, she turned to leave.

As she walked, she could feel his eyes on her body. Her curves. Her bare legs. Her hips. The hunger in his gaze.

Good.

She didn't need to turn around to know she'd made an impression. Serena Hart had walked enough catwalks to know how to leave her mark.

And by the way she was moving, she was sure that Joey was picking up what she was putting down.

And tonight?

She'd collect.