"The fuck are they even thinking? They’re ignoring every single goddamn game mechanic about how attacks work in Fantasy Wars. All of it, right into the trash."

"I don’t mind that," Emily mused, stepping out of the traffic flow to an opening in the flocks of AnimeCon attendees where they could wait for the group of friends trailing behind them. "It’s their new outfits, the stupid Ordinal uniforms. Changing looks for no reason other than it being a movie bugs the hell outta me. What’s wrong with the classic Cardinal uniforms?"

"Fantasy Wars?" Tanya asked as she caught up with them. "I have to wait and see, but I think I’m going to sew up Sophia cosplays for both styles next year. Cardinal and Ordinal. She’s a badass."

"Nobody cares what they’re goddamned wearing," Mark looked at them incredulously.

"I’m kinda with Mark on this one," Will sighed dejectedly. "When it’s like a long, stretched-out cutscene, it doesn’t even feel like Fantasy Wars anymore."

"Well, they had to follow the game’s story, rather than adhere to the battle mechanics," Brian jumped in, stepping through the crowds with Chloe in tow. "No one wants to sit there watching techniques charge up over several battle turns. That wouldn’t work for a movie."

"I think it’s cute," Chloe shrugged.

"Oh my God, there’s another Kuma-yasha cosplayer!" Tanya squealed, pointing across the lobby toward a shirtless young man in hakama pants with fake oversized bear arms. "Chloe, can you get a picture of me and him together?"

"Um, can’t Michael—" Chloe frowned, watching as Tanya trotted quickly away from them.

"I ain’t doin’ it," Mike snorted, glaring with obvious jealousy at the Kuma-yasha cosplayer.

"Right," Chloe said, injecting false cheer into her voice and pulling out her phone to follow after Tanya.

"So… Brian, are you gonna do a movie-version Lance cosplay?" Emily asked, stepping forward quickly to fall in step at his side.

"Hah, I can’t even do the normal one justice," he chuckled, glancing around the lobby in appreciation, taking in the different costumes among the excited gathering of fellow fans. Mike and Will were not-so-discreetly ogling a voluptuous girl cosplaying the demon Lamastu, her privates covered by skulls bound together with knotted string and little else.

"Hey—check it out," Brian nodded his head towards a pair of girls wearing skin-tight jester outfits posing together for a photo. "Jessie Terr and Follis Fool, right?"

"Yeah… they’re fuckin’ awesome!" Emily’s eyes lit up at the sight. The vixen twins were the jester-like assistants of one of the most well-recognized comic book arch-villains of all time, the Jokester, and had become fan-favorites for their outrageously sexy figures and sociopathic behavior.

The two cosplayers were incredible, the seemingly haphazard stitching of the many scraps of black and red fabric that made up their bodysuits left little to the imagination, there wasn’t a single ill-fit piece or loose wrinkle—the girls might as well have been sewn into them. The pieces of fabric were mirrored across the girls—sections of stitched-together costume that were ‘missing’ on Jessie were the portions that Follis wore, and vice versa; as if a single complete jester costume had been strategically cut apart, and then the pieces divided between two women. Their faces were painted up in exquisite mime-like fashion, and every inch of their exposed skin was colored in that same ghastly unnatural white.

"Get a picture of me with them, before they get away!" Emily quickly pushed her phone into Brian’s hand and dashed over towards them. As she arrived, however, the Follis Fool was already ducking away through the crowd. The Jessie Terr had been turning to leave as well, but caught sight of Emily rushing over and paused.

"Sarah, wait—" But her Follis Fool was already gone, and the girl in the Jessie Terr costume gave Emily an apologetic smile.

"It’s okay," Emily grinned. "You look amazing! Could I get my picture with you?"

"By your order," the girl teased in an impressive Jessie Terr imitation, sliding an arm around behind Emily. They each flashed gorgeous smiles for Brian as he took their picture.

"Thank you! You really look just… perfect," Emily admitted earnestly to the taller girl. "Uh, I was planning on doing a Grimoire Saint cosplay next year, would you have any advice on the—"

"Oh, my friend Sarah—that Follis Fool, she made our costumes, I don’t know much of anything about sewing or any of that."

"Ah! I see, sorry," Emily apologized, seeming to deflate a little. "Do you maybe know what kind of body paint she used?"

"Oh! The body paint," the Jessie Terr’s eyes lit up. "Well, I did those parts—I’m the makeup pro. I used a fifty-fifty mixture of prosthetic adhesive and liquidex acrylic paint, and then set it with talcum powder. But if your grimmy…?"

"Grimoire?" Emily supplied helpfully.

"If your Grimoire thing needs some color other than white, you’re gonna havta use something like a rice powder to set it instead, ‘cause talcum or baby powder’ll lighten your final color, like, a lot."

"Wow," Emily said appreciatively. "Thank you so much!"

"No sweat," Kelly smirked, heading off through the crowd in the direction her friend had escaped. "See ya."

Emily turned back towards Brian, eagerly gesturing for her phone so that she could see how the picture he’d taken came out.

"Nice," Emily nodded in satisfaction. "Damn, she was hot. Right?"

Brian only gave an awkward, noncommittal shrug.

"Oh, is that how it is, now?" Emily gave him a dry chuckle and glanced back pointedly towards Chloe. "…Now that you’ve got a girlfriend, I mean."

"You heard already?"

"Yeah, jerk," Emily grumbled, cuffing him on the shoulder with her fist. "Just a minute ago, in fact. Almost didn’t even believe it. I mean, Brian, you’re my best friend. And yet, here I am gettin’ the news second-hand, after the fact, and from Mark and Will, of all people. You and me, we talk all the time, but you’ve—you’ve never even brought her up. What gives?"

"I… wasn’t ready. To ask her out, yet," Brian admitted sheepishly.

"And you were worried I’d talk you out of it?" Emily guessed.

"What? No, I thought if we really got to talking, you’d really push me into it," Brian said, surprised. "Chloe told me what you said to her—that you thought her and I’d be a really great couple, that you thought we were good for each other. But… I just wasn’t ready yet, I… well, I needed like, just the right moment."

"Wait. I said… what?" Emily gave him a blank stare, completely stunned.

"Yeah," Brian laughed. "Word has it you were getting frustrated that I wasn’t, y’know… just manning up and asking her out. I guess you were—"

"No! No, no, no," Emily held up her hands to stop him. "I never—"

"Hey, it’s okay," Brian assured her. "You didn’t end up saying anything to me—didn’t try to push me or pressure me or anything. I do appreciate that. You know how hard it is for me to… you know, actually open up and let people get close. So thank you."

He stepped closer to her and hugged her, and Emily froze up in shock. Is this… the first time he’s actually hugging me, instead of me just kinda forcing one on him? Why does this feel like… a goodbye hug?

She was still in a confused daze as he tousled her hair playfully and headed back over to rejoin Chloe. Chloe, pretty and perfect in her Hera Victoria costume, gave Emily a bright, beautiful smile before she turned and led her friend away.

No. Not a goodbye hug, Emily glowered, feeling her hands tremble with rage. This isn’t over. This isn’t over. Maybe I did drop the ball on… sorting out all my feelings for Brian, that’s fair. Okay, yeah, I literally pissed away my chance. But her pissing all over me to get Brian? No. Just, no. Bitch’s gonna get stitches.

• • •

Present day

Brian’s FINALLY free from her evil clutches for one moment, so that things could maybe start to turn around. I can’t STAND to just let her keep hurting him anymore. Or WORSE, decide to try to get back together with him. No. Just, no.

Just…um, just one more time, before I have to go, Emily decided sheepishly, locking and tugging on her doorknob for good measure. As she slowly spread her thighs, feeling the fishnet body stocking of her cosplay stretching and shifting against her bare skin, the hemmed opening between her legs gaped open, exposing her blushing pink labia. To help clear my head. Yeah.

Her carefully fingertips glided easily into those gleaming wet folds, and a shudder went through her. Emily had been unusually soaked down there lately. She didn’t even feel wet just down there—it was as if that same slippery, slick sensation, that sexual need was seeping throughout every nook and cranny of her cerebrum, lubricating her thoughts into a certain sexual direction.

A finger slipped deep inside—but she imagined right now that it was Brian pushing himself into her, Brian wrapping his arms around her. Emily felt a silly smile of satisfaction spread across her face. A weird feeling flowed through her, and her eyes dazed going blank, seeing something like a pattern of light refraction upon a pool of disturbed water. Mesmerizing, almost hypnotic.

She pretended Brian had his strong arms trapping her in a tight embrace, that her small breasts were squashed up against his bare chest, and that her face was nestled perfectly into his neck. Maybe he would whisper an apology for the things he was about to do to her—for the primitive, violent ways he was going to use her to vent out his lust. A helpless growl, already lost to desire.

Do ittt, Emily might urge him, her lips just beneath his ear. F-fuck me. Break me if you have to. Fuck me with everything you have, even if it’s more than my brain can handle, even if it turns me stupid. J-just FUCK ME. She squeezed, nearly pushing her own finger out of herself as she clenched and flexed, and almost toppled over backwards.

Fuuuck. Emily scrambled over to withdraw the small bullet-shaped vibrator hidden in the jewelry box beneath her bed, and hopped up onto the mattress to straddle one of her pillows with her knees. Wetting her lips in anticipation, she rose up and pointed the gently buzzing tool at her slippery slit, breathing heavily.

There isn’t much time before Rebecca gets here… I really shouldn’t. But, well—fuck, I’ve gotta do SOMETHING, or I’m going to… to overflow. The tiny silver bullet wasn’t technically meant for insertion, as it didn’t have a safety ‘tail’ for withdrawal, and in fact wasn’t able to vibrate as powerfully when trapped inside… but that never mattered to Emily.

After the horrifying experience wetting herself when she’d passed out at that homecoming party, she’d started several different kegel routines to ensure it never, ever happened again. At this point, she was proficient enough controlling the different sets of muscles along her pelvic floor that she could almost draw the vibrator completely inside herself without using her fingers, and she naturally had no worries about expelling it. That the only exercises she’d ever been able to keep up with were only because she’d intrinsically linked them to her masturbation habits… was an irony not lost on her.

Blue droplets of light shimmered across her vision in a dazzling slosh of surf and spray, and she let the vibrator sink deep inside of her, capsizing rational thought. It wasn’t warm like she wanted it—it wasn’t Brian like she wanted it, but it was something.

The loose cosplay yukata had been hanging open, but now she shrugged it off her shoulders and let it fall down to reveal a prominent pair of nipples, straining against the netting of her body stocking. She tightened, and the vibrator halfway emerged, forced out of her. She stopped it with her middle finger and slid it back in, exhaling a shaky breath and biting down on her lower lip as she watched herself in the vertical mirror hung on her closet door with interest. This fishnet really is badass. Snug sorta texture really outlines my contours, makes ’em stand out. Looks fuckin’ erotic.

She let the vibrator bob in and out of her a few times, revelling at the dazed, sexy face reflected back at her, and then closed a hand over herself, holding the humming vibrator bullet inside. Clamping down in sequence, letting it pulsate back and forth within her as she toyed with her clit.

OoOoh, fuck me. FUCK ME. Her hips shook, a twitching, involuntary shudder dry-humping against her pillow. Fuuuck me. Emily’s breath hitched, and, finally—she fell just shy of climaxing.

"Oh, c’mon," she panted in frustration, gripping her messy bedsheets as she rocked and grinded against her pillow. Dropping down into position on all fours, she wriggled and twisted, delighting in the feel of the fishnet hugging tight to every inch of nubile flesh. "C’mon…"

Don’tcha wanna fuck me, Brian? I betcha do, Emily taunted, turning so she could smile mischievously over her own shoulder at herself in the mirror and wiggling her bottom in the air. She loved the idea of tantalizing him with her cute butt—presenting herself to him, goading him on. Sometimes she spent quite a while like this, playing out her little scenario and pretending he was there in the room with her. She could practically see him, struggling with indecision, attempting to maintain his composure in that adorable Brian way.

What would be going through his head, if he saw me like this? Emily wondered. Would he really like, realize the drinking way back then was an act, this stupid charade to mask those old too-fragile fucking feelings? Realize that I was hot for him? Or would he be disappointed? Over their years of friendship, only that one incident had become the rift that put a distance between them. In a perverse way, however, even that could be a major turn-on for her, though.

Your little Emily had a bit to drink and became just another stupid horny teenage girl. Coming on to whatever guy was nearby, tequila rolling off her breath and EASY written in her eyes. The shameful feeling washing over her only aroused her even more.

That’s right, be disappointed. USE me, s’all I’m good for, right? She fantasized that they were sharing that sofa again, back during the party at Aunt Mattie’s place. In no time at all she was frigging herself again with the vibrating bullet in a steady series of wet sounds, allowing her imagination to grow more and more brutally pornographic.

Think of me with contempt, rip the button off my jeans. Shove your hand down into my panties. Yank them down, tear them, I don’t care. You don’t have to be gentle with some stupid fuckin’ whore like me, anymore. But please, just fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, FUCK ME!

That’s it, Brian. I’m your SLUT. Take it all out. Take all your frustrations out on me, Emily imagined his fingers twining into her hair and pulling her forcibly to crush her mouth against his in a violent exchange of tongues. Senselessly swapping spit and saliva, her shaking fingers would explore down the firm lines of his abdominal muscles, gripping hold of his dick.

His THICK dick. She remembered giddily pestering his first girlfriend Alyssa for all sorts of juicy details—the girl had, in a husky, shy whisper, described it as thick. Brian suddenly on top of her, his weight pinning her down into the cushioning of that couch from back then, pushing the breath out of her. Imagining him breathing in her ear, his voice ragged and dangerous as he teetered out of control.

Sometimes, imagining Brian as a gentle lover did it for her, sweet words and loving kisses… but just as often, picturing Brian like this, that jaded Brian, the one that was disappointed, disgusted with what an easy lay his longtime friend had become really got her off. Emily quivered, eyes dazed and buried her goofy grin into her pillow. If Brian had actually been there, he would have found her unbelievably wet.

Emily wanted manhandled by him. It was common knowledge among their circle of friends that while Emily didn’t really like being touched, and she hated being picked up—but with Brian, it was different. She wanted him to position her. Wanted him to shove her down upon her back and pull her ankles up into the air, to nearly fold her in half as he pressed down onto her—into her. Her cute feet raised up together to rest on his shoulders as he pushed deep, deep inside of her… a position that featured vividly in many of her idle fantasies.

"C’mon… c-c’mon…" However, as she’d feared, release was lingering just out of reach. The vibrator just wasn’t cutting it today, and the dull buzzing of the slender bullet-shaped tool fell silent and was nudged aside in the folds of the covers.

And why would Brian have all sorts of stress and frustration in the first place? Ugh, I can’t stand it. I CAN’T STAND IT. Chloe, couldn’t you just leave him be? Haven’t you done enough damage? Chloe, with your stupid superior little smile. You think it’s okay to just drop my Brian whenever it suits you and then pick him right back up wherever you left off?! What about what that fucking does to him? What about his feelings?! What about MY…

She stared in silent, dumbfounded disbelief, eyes beginning to water at the revelation. Her trembling hands clutched about her chest, which was rising and falling in quick succession with her breath.

—feelings? Emily’s breath hitched, overcome with emotion. My fucking FEELINGS?! N-no way. I’m over him, right? I’m WAY over him by now, it’s been… it’s been so many years, there’s no way. This… this is just some fantasy to flick myself to. I’m not REALLY in love with him!

Something in the forbidden recesses of Emily’s mind, some last stubborn pocket of resistance was uncorked with an odd pwoop sound, and the most deeply repressed feelings gushed out all at once in a burst of bubbles and flickering flashes of blue light. A violent surge of glimmering emotions and memories swilled and swirled throughout her head, pushing away the last vestiges of the stagnant and muddy waters clouding her thoughts.

—I’m completely in fucking love with him. The one truth, the one secret buried within herself in depths so deep she’d never, ever been able to admit it. Several friends had speculated along the way, and even more probably guessed. Yet, she’d always remained adamant in denying it. At what point did I even start telling myself I was ever over him?!

Fuck me, I’m so stupid, Emily thought to herself, shaking her head. She’d been at such a loss, so completely unable to figure out what to do with Brian’s situation, and why? Because I was deliberately… not going there. Because I don’t go there. I never go there, not since what happened, that one… STUPID fucking night. But… now, what if I actually DO go there?

"Brian, I—" She snapped her mouth closed, intensely embarrassed. Without realizing it, her fingers had delved back inside her insatiable slit, working with newfound enthusiasm. Sh-shit, what if someone’d overheard me? But… I guess it really is the truth, isn’t it? "I… love you."

Fuck me, I said it. Out loud. It’s already out now. I can’t take it back. The words are like, in the air now. It’s all going to spill out.

"I love you, Brian. I love you," she found herself saying, before she could clamp her free hand over her mouth. Fuck. Fuck, fuck. She was surprised to feel an enormous smile of relief and happiness hidden beneath. Her other hand continued on in an unbidden frenzy, stirring succulent sensations that sent pure streams of blue coursing throughout her body. Warily, as if unsure of what words were going to come out, she took a deep breath, as one would before plunging themselves deep underwater.

"I love you. Okay? I’ve always fuckin’ loved you. I’m so in fucking love with you that I don’t know what to do. I never did. But I love you. I love you. You don’t need Chloe back—y-you never fucking needed her. Ever. You’re worth so much more than that. You’re—y-y-you’re fucking everything to me." All the words she’d been holding in for years erupted out like a clear spring, an immensely satisfying blue current, undiluted and powerful enough to wash away all of her worries.

I—love—you!

And then she creamed herself, cumming and cumming and cumming in an enormous rolling wave like she’d never experienced before. Eyelashes fluttering and mouth puckering open in surprise, she felt herself undulate, her breasts quivering as each muscle down her abdomen flexed in a succulent ripple. Emily’s cute little bottom lifted up off the bed once, twice, altogether three times, and her eager snatch, sopping wet with her unchecked arousal, spasmed wildly all the while. Her past orgasms now all seemed petty, tense little pleasures, completely without compare to this unstoppable crest that swept through her entire body.

Sh-shit, this is. Is. Bad. Now it won’t—this won’t, like, stop pouring out. This um, these—these FEELINGS. How am I ever going to be able to hide anything from him now?

Hurriedly checking the time on her phone, she realized that not only had more than forty-five minutes gone by, but there were several missed messages from Rebecca.

Mara Thorferra: Here in ur driveway

Mara Thorferra: Emily im here

Mara Thorferra: Emilyyyy

"Sssh—it!" Emily’s faced flushed red, bashfully pulling the rest of her cosplay back on as quickly as she could. A last tiny tremor shivered down the inside of her legs. "I’m coming, I’m coming!" Emily didn’t find herself feeling exhausted as her luxuriant tremors subsided, and to her surprise, she rose up easily in a smooth, languid motion off the bed and onto her feet. She’d always thought that a really great orgasm was like being hit by a typhoon, and it was—only, this time, she was the typhoon.

That wasn’t my fault, I HAD to take care of that, she told herself. Her wig was stored inside-out in its protective sleeve and tucked under an arm with her ninja shoes. A spare change of clothes and her overnight pouch of toiletries, along with what remained of her savings, were already crammed into the backpack she slung haphazardly over one shoulder. Flitting frantically around her bedroom for anything she might have missed, she grimaced and finally snatched the heavy bottle half-hidden behind her nightstand, and then broke into a run down the hallway for the front door.

It really WASN’T my fault! She felt that uncontrollable torrent just had to be poured out somehow, or she’d have been in trouble. Now, it was nothing but a strange smile she couldn’t conceal, a euphoric light-headedness. It would have been a struggle for her thoughts to even stay afloat, save for the fact that the beautiful blue coursing through her head now swirled and circled around this one particular person firmly anchored in her heart.

• • •

"Oh, Emmie…" Rebecca murmured, stepping out of her car as she noticed what her friend was carrying in her free hand. "I don’t think… that’s really a good idea?"

"This?" Emily snorted, hefting the bottle up with a grin. "This isn’t an idea at all, this is straight bourbon. S’like, what, the opposite of having good ideas, right?"

"Emily… no," Rebecca frowned. "You’re not going to drink. You don’t drink."

"I’m old enough, and I can drink whenever I want," Emily said defensively. "I drink sometimes, every now and then. I bet I drink way more than you."

Releasing a long, exasperated sigh, Rebecca took the neck of the bottle in her hand as though she was going to have to take it away from her smaller friend. Indignantly, Emily tried to yank it back. Only to discover that Rebecca’s grip didn’t budge a millimeter, the taller girl firmly planted there holding the neck of the bottle, solid and unmoving as a giant tree.

"C’mon, this isn’t funny—"

"Emily, please, you’re one of my best friends," Rebecca interrupted in a stern tone, "And I love you. We’ve all heard the story about the time you drank only a hundred times by now."

"I didn’t wet myself, you can’t believe anything Brian—"

"Oh… well, I never heard that part. I heard you tried to kiss him?" Rebecca cut in, a sly smile appearing across her sleepy features.

"Yeah? Well, uh, I was drunk, alright? I thought it’d be funny," Emily retorted, tugging at the unmoving bottle again. "It was, kinda."

"You know what?" Rebecca continued. "That’s what he thinks, too. But… I don’t think it’s funny."

"Rebecca? You weren’t even there," Emily growled. "You don’t know any—"

"Bourbon’s not going to do you any favors, Emmie." Rebecca pointed out. "You know, he pushed you away ‘cause he actually thought you were drunk for real?"

Shocked, Emily abruptly let go of the bottle and tumbled backwards spectacularly onto her ass.

"Besides, this is awful… it’s the cheapest, most vile, absolute garbage you could’ve possibly bought," Rebecca muttered with a sigh, shaking her head in dismay and squeezing the bourbon. "This bottle’s made out of plastic, Emily."

"C’mon, I was just actually hammered that night," Emily laughed nervously, clambering back up. "You weren’t there. Don’t go making all of it into some kinda weird—"

"You’re doing that thing you do every time when you fib, Emmie."

"Yeah? Thing, what thing?"

"Your mouth moves, and all these words come out."

"Ha-hah, very funny. Why don’t—"

"This is a good chance for you, Emily. Things can work out. But you don’t need this stuff, it’s garbage. You’re so much better than that."

"No, I’m not," Emily realized, aghast to find that her eyes were stinging with shame and disappointment. "No, I’m not—"

"Sshh-sh-sh-shhh," Rebecca shushed, and wrapped her arms protectively around Emily. "Emily, it’s fine, you’re fine, everything’s going to be just fine."

"…You knew?" Emily sniffled in a quiet voice. "Since when? Why didn’t you ever say something?"

"What would I say?" Rebecca chuckled helplessly. "I wasn’t completely sure. And how could I speak out and cheer you on while you’re so determined to keep everything all a big stupid secret? Brian doesn’t know… but Chloe probably does. I think Will has it figured it out, too."

"How would Will know anything?" Emily asked, making a face. "He’s practically—"

"Because Will’s always had a crush on you."

"…Oh."

"Yeah. But, enough about that," Rebecca said, squeezing Emily tight. "What’s going on? What’s such a big crisis that it has you breaking out the bourbon?"

"Chloe’s there," Emily murmured into Rebecca’s shoulder.

"Chloe’s there?" Rebecca echoed, giving her a look of confusion.

"At the convention. She’s there now," Emily explained, pulling away and wiping her nose into her sleeve.

"…Ah. Ahhhh.. That’s the emergency?" Rebecca realized, making a face. "But… really? She insisted she wasn’t going, like, a bazillion times? Made such a fuss over it. I know she can be a little… flighty, but—"

"No, no. She planned this, somehow," Emily insisted, shaking her head. "Whenever anyone brought up AnimeCon, she was the one shooting it down, making excuses, or saying like Brian wasn’t gonna go. But then, whenever you’d talk to Brian himself about it, you’d get this totally different story."

"Well, yeah, but—"

"She had a costume ready, that she kept secret from everyone. I mean, there’s nothing on her Chloe Ravioli account, and then she goes and posts…" Emily paused to swipe through photos on her phone before turning the display towards her friend, "…this on her other account."

"Other account? Magical Doll Himari!" Rebecca exclaimed in recognition, before narrowing her eyes and taking a closer look. "Oh, my—that’s really… Chloe, isn’t it? Oh my God! She has a Himari cosplay?!"

"Not something she picked up on a whim, either," Emily insisted. "Scroll back further through her posts—she made all of that stuff, there’s progress pictures. She was always planning on going to AnimeCon. Just, the rest of us didn’t fit into her plans. This is all about her and Brian, somehow."

"Now that’s, uh, well…" Rebecca frowned, shaking her head. "That seems like… a bit of a stretch? She—"

"No, you don’t understand," Emily breathed. "She told me things. Things I was supposed to say to Brian. When I offered to be the one to give him back his apartment key that day, and, you know, make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything there, you remember that? She told me this whole spiel, all of these specific things I had to say when I ran into him."

"What did you say to him?" Rebecca’s eyes went wide.

"I didn’t say shit," Emily snorted. "Hah, yeah right, like I was going to put all that on Brian, right then when he was at his worst."

"Why?" Rebecca asked, tilting her head quizzically.

"Why? Whaddya mean, why?" Emily blustered.

"It’s just, I thought… isn’t her rejecting Brian like that, um, good news for you?"

"Nothing that would hurt Brian is good news," Emily stated with finality, looking uncharacteristically serious. "This… isn’t about me right now, okay?"

"But maybe it can be?" Rebecca teased, sticking out her tongue. "What did she want you to say? Do you remember?"

"What she wanted me to say to him…" Emily let out a bitter laugh. "I’m never gonna forget it. But, can we get going? I can tell you on the way. I, y’know, I really want to get there, soon as we can."

"Yeah—of course," Rebecca said with giddy smile of anticipation, pulling open the driver’s side door of the old station wagon and then… adjusting the seat all the way forward. "C’mon, let’s go!"

"Uhh," Emily remarked in surprise, "What? Yeah? You’re gonna let me drive?"

"S’not a stick shift or anything," Rebecca laughed, tossing her keys to her friend as she crossed over to the passenger’s side. "I trust you. We wanna get there fast, right?"

"I, uh, we… yes," Emily said quickly, deftly snatching the keys out of the air. "We god-damned do want to get there fast. Thank you, Rebecca… thank you. Brian, Chloe… AnimeCon. Here we come."

This story was taken from one these sites, check them out to find more sex stories:

https://www.forum-speditionen.de/vorstellung-20712

https://www.forum4x4.org/viewtopic.php?t=194896

https://www.forum-mercedes.com/topic-100693-probleme-de-demarrage-a-chaud-w245.html

https://forum4x4club.ru/index.php?showtopic=167382

https://forum-mechanika.pl/threads/utrata-mocy-przy-3500-obrot%C3%B3w.70225/