The Checklist (Explicit Version)

Chapter 5

   My laughter stopped her from ranting more. "He's teaching me how to drink more responsibly," I lied to ease her fears. If she knew I was actively looking for sex with—gasp—a stranger, she'd faint. Probably before handing me a safe-sex pamphlet and giving me a lecture about stranger danger.

   I'm not completely oblivious to the horrors most women go through. If a woman hasn't been sexually assaulted, she more than likely knows someone who has.

   For us, it was Valerie. It happened when she was a freshman, and she'd been so scarred that she only slept with women until two years ago. Another reason why I'm surprised she slept with Remi.

   Nellie's snort dragged me out from my dark thoughts. "You? Drink responsibly? You literally took two shots of vodka before you started getting ready."

   "Liquor courage," I said defensively. "I need liquor courage."

   "Yes, and two shots will work so well. I can tell by how much you were pacing."

   "I paced so the alcohol could run through my body quicker." I grinned in satisfaction. "It did."

   Nellie rolled her eyes but fought a smile while pushing herself off the door frame. She stepped into the hall but gave me a lingering look before deadpanning, "You better keep me updated or I'll call the cops on your ass."

   I blew her a kiss. "I'll be responsible."

   "Promise?"

   "I'll try to be responsible," I rephrased with a blinding smile. Nellie didn't look phased.

   She turned her back to me and walked away, but not before grumbling under her breath, "I'm losing years of my life because of you."

   "Love you," I shouted, cupping my mouth. She made a disbelieving grunt before she closed her bedroom door.

   Wearing a faint smile, I moved around my room to prepare my purse before deciding last minute that I wouldn't bring one. I also needed my outfit to look good, I scarified warmth.

   Because I had to acknowledge my curves, I wore a spaghetti strap, ruched and velvet wine red dress that hugged my body. I didn't wish for death, though, so I slipped into my worn-out ankle boots. While I liked heels, walking ten minutes in them, plus in the winter? Not for me. I like my ankles.

   Even though my long hair already had some shape, I still curled it into subtle beach curls. My face wasn't necessarily caked with makeup, but it was still a full face. I smiled in relief when my eyeliner came out better than expected.

   We were meeting at the club for nine, so I needed to leave within the next few minutes. However, as I was slipping into my loosely fitted leather jacket, my phone started ringing.

   I unplugged it from its charger, only to choke on saliva when I saw who was calling me. Who has never called me, even after two weeks of texting.

   Internally freaking out, I almost dropped the phone but I managed to juggle it back up before answering the call out of breath. "Hello?"

   There was a short pause on the other line, followed by a short, gruff laugh. "You good, princess?"

   "What do you mean?" My voice hit a new pitch. I hurriedly cleared my throat before continuing, "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

   "I wouldn't know the answer to that," he drawled blankly, but I couldn't help but feel he was sarcastic.

   "Are you implying I'm not fine?"

   He didn't respond right away. "Princess, I'm taking you to the club to practice your flirting so you can get laid."

   "Are you judging a woman for wanting sex?" I accused, narrowing my eyes at my own reflection. "You don't have to come—"