Count Your Lucky Stars (Written in the Stars, #3)(16)

There was a line and that was certain to cross it.

Even if Margot didn’t care, if she threw caution to the wind and said fuck it, that thoughts were thoughts and they didn’t mean anything unless she allowed them to, the walls were paper-thin.

She glanced at her phone. She could do what she’d done in the past and put on music to drown out the sound of her vibrator or—

The bathroom door opened, the sound of some Taylor Swift song carrying down the hall before shutting off. A second later, Olivia’s bedroom door closed.

Margot drummed her fingers against her bedspread. Or she could kill two birds with one stone and take care of herself in the shower, where the water would muffle her noises. That sounded like a much better plan.

Reaching into her nightstand, Margot dug around, searching for—no, not that vibrator, she wanted . . . that one. No bells or whistles, just a tried-and-true, waterproof bullet vibe.

Margot carried it over to her dresser, quickly shuffling through her drawers for a pair of sweats, a tee, and some underwear. Margot bundled the vibrator inside her fresh clothes and made it halfway across the room before doubling back, snagging her phone and swiping open her Spotify app. Clothes cradled to her chest, Margot opened the door and stepped out into the hall—

“Oof.”

She and Olivia collided with enough force to knock her off balance, causing her to drop everything in her hands as she steadied herself against the wall. Her glasses slipped, and Margot quickly slid them up the bridge of her nose.

Olivia was barefoot, her toenails painted a pale lavender, her big toes a deeper shade of purple. Her long legs were bare, too, her towel barely covering the tops of her thighs, the edge of the towel straining against her breasts. Margot’s gut clenched, her mouth going dry at the unexpected sight of Olivia standing in the middle of the hall, mostly naked.

“Sorry.” Olivia blushed, hugging her arms around her body. “I left my, um, my clothes in . . .” Her eyes, already averted, widened to the size of saucers. “In my bedroom . . .”

Margot frowned and followed Olivia’s gaze to the floor where her own bundle of clothing had fallen, and beside it, her bright blue vibrator.

“Um.” Margot puffed out her cheeks, a wicked flush winding its way up her jaw.

Words failed her. There was no mistaking the vibrator for anything other than exactly what it was and—she wasn’t ashamed. She masturbated, big fucking deal. Margot was the friend her other friends came to for sex toy recommendations. She was happy to talk about sex, solo or otherwise. But there was a distinct difference between telling Elle that buying a vibe with suction-magic technology would be a life changer, and Olivia—Olivia—knowing Margot had concrete plans to get off, not at some indistinct point in the future but right here right now in the shower they now shared.

Shit. If she couldn’t speak, she should at least move. Pick it up. Do something other than stand there staring at her vibrator like it was going to sprout legs and hightail it back into her bedroom. Huh. That would be a nifty feature.

Right. Moving. Margot cleared her throat and stepped away from the wall she’d plastered herself against. Olivia’s eyes darted further down the hall, before widening even more.

“Cat, no!”

Margot followed Olivia’s gaze just in time to witness Cat crouch low, her butt wiggling from side to side, once, twice before she propelled herself through the air, pouncing on Margot’s vibrator.

A low buzz filled the hall as the bullet whirred to life. Cat hissed, as if surprised, before wrapping her front legs around the vibe, contorting herself into a tight little ball, bunny-kicking her prey.

Olivia clapped her hands together briskly. “Cat, stop it. Stop.” She clutched her towel to her chest and approached Cat with caution. “Let it go. Bad kitty.”

Cat froze, curled up in her ball, pointy teeth pressed against the silicone.

“Go.” Olivia made a shooing gesture. “Go.”

Cat let out an indignant meow before sprinting down the hall at breakneck speed, fleeing the scene of the crime. Margot’s bullet vibe skittered atop the hardwood floor, buzzing louder, yet somehow not as loud as the blood roaring inside her skull.

“Um.” Olivia bent down, hand faltering in the air for a split second before she scooped Margot’s vibrator off the floor. She turned it over, biting her lip as she studied the base, making a soft “Aha” as she found the power button and pressed it. She cleared her throat and held the now-silent toy out for Margot to take. “You, uh”—she winced—“might want to wash that?”

Margot was pretty sure her soul had left her body. There was a strange lightness to her limbs as she reached out, taking her vibrator, clutching it awkwardly. Wash it. Right. There was black fur stuck to the silicone, not to mention cat spit.

She stared at Olivia, words continuing to fail her.

Olivia stared back, face flushed neon, her lips twitching. She jerked her chin at the vibrator. “I guess it’s safe to say that’s . . . pussy approved.”

Olivia snorted, and that was just—Margot crunched forward, convulsing with laughter.

She couldn’t quit. Each time it felt like she could stop if she could just get a breath in, she’d glance at Olivia, red-faced and shaking, and it would start all over again, the laughter building and building and building on itself. She wasn’t even sure why she was laughing, only that she was, wheezing and sputtering and gagging on her own spit, and it felt like she couldn’t breathe.