Shifters with Secrets (An MMF Bisexual Threesome)(14)

She put her elbows on her knees and rubbed her face hard with both hands, then reached out to turn off the TV and pick up her phone.

One text, from a number she didn’t know:

Hey, it’s Thomas. Text me when you get this so I know you made it home alive?

Sofia bit her lip, reading and re-reading the text.

He did care that she’d stormed out of the bar, at least enough to text. Maybe it wasn’t enough to follow her or anything, but he cared some.

It was a small comfort. In a perfect romance, he’d have come running after her, sweeping her off her feet in his strong arms as he kissed her.

In a perfect dirty romance, he’d have done all that and then take her into the bar’s back room, where they’d be joined by Gavin, the sexy bartender, and then she’d have had her way with them both.

Sofia exhaled hard and stood. Too bad life wasn’t either, and she was going to have to settle for Thomas being a very friendly acquaintance who was nice enough to text after a rough night, even if she’d never get to sleep with him.

Crankily, she dumped out the dregs of the wine, plugged her phone in to charge, and got in the shower.





***





Sofia usually got to the library by eight-thirty or nine, but this morning it was at least ten before she arrived to check in with Francis, signing her name on that sheet yet again.

“Room’s still intact!” Francis said brightly.

Sofia, hangover still raging, thought about some horrible things she could say to the other woman, but instead she forced a smile.

“Great!” she said, barely meaning it.

Down the stairs, through the hallway, and then to the California History Room’s door.

As she opened it, she saw something on the floor just inside: an envelope. It was a fat rectangle, some sort of pearlescent white, like a wedding invitation.

Her name was on the front in cursive. Whoever had written it had very nice handwriting.

Sofia picked it up without opening it, too tired and hungover to think about whatever function she was getting invited to right now. It was probably some sort of library fundraiser or something and she was just being invited out of politeness. She wouldn’t go, of course, because it wasn’t like she had many funds to donate anywhere.

She put her bag down on a chair and pulled her laptop out, plugging it in the same place she did every day, then putting her face in her hands again while she waited for it to boot up, a tired, totally half-assed To-Do list starting to run through her head.

There was a light knock on the door to the room, and one more time, Sofia cursed the library policy that meant the door had to be kept locked at all times. Clearly, it hadn’t been effective when it really mattered, and right now, she just wanted to lose herself in scanning old maps rather than get up and get the door every time someone else wanted to come in.


Thomas stood on the other side, holding two mugs full of coffee.

For just a moment, Sofia was furious at him.

What’s your f*cking deal? She thought to herself. You want to f*ck skinny girls who throw themselves all over you, and then you show up here with coffee after texting me?

Am I a backup for you? If the skinny girl turns you down, you come here and the chubby one is so grateful that she puts out?

But just as quickly as it had come on, her moment of fury passed, and she managed a smile.

“For me?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said, handing her the mug.

Sofia led him back into the room, and he put his bag down on the table and went right for the still-broken-but-closer-to-fixed microfiche reader. She drank the coffee — hot and strong, just like I like my men, haha, she thought — and looked at the to-do list she’d half started before he got there.

It just said, do work.

Not helpful, hungover Sofia, she scolded herself.

“What’s that?” asked Thomas, a screwdriver already in his hand, nodding toward the fancy invitation.

“Oh, I forgot to open it,” she said, reaching for it.

The paper was cool and heavy, textured in a way that somehow felt like snakeskin.

“Looks like you’re getting invited to events I haven’t even heard about,” he joked.

The flap of the envelope popped open easily, and inside was a card with a picture of flowers on the front. Sofia raised her eyebrows and opened it, briefly regretting that she probably wouldn’t be able to attend whatever function it was.

Inside, in the same flowing, lovely hand, was written: Go home, tramp.

“What the f*ck?” she said out loud. Sofia turned over the card, but there was nothing interesting on the back, and nothing else on the envelope either.

“What is it?” asked Thomas.

She showed him the inside of the card, and he frowned.

“What the f*ck?” he asked.

Sofia just shook her head and dropped the card on the table, too angry for words. Thomas picked it up along with the envelope, turning them both over in his hands, as if he were looking for clues. Sofia pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingertips, closing her eyes as she did.

She thought she saw Thomas smell the envelope, but she couldn’t be sure.

“Fuck it,” she said. “I’m hungover, and some bitch wants me to leave town, and she left me a nice note because apparently smashing up the library and taking the books I need wasn’t enough.”