active

1663643351040335

person_profile

eligible

NONE

102673059542883

Shep002

120209957398870659

a.shepherdsapp.com

Learn more

NONE

video

🔥🔥 Click to Read 👉🏻👉🏻

https://a.shepherdsapp.com/ad/Zmljd29ybGQvMTQ4ODYwLzIwMjQwNDExMjEyNDM4L3BhZ2U=?adid={{ad.id}}

Shep002

https://scontent-atl3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/436926461_397268643062404_1754529812716116237_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=16O1lbNijuUAb4flYCT&_nc_ht=scontent-atl3-1.xx&oh=00_AfAjwgK-02hwdFwXsuvQ8BBV9zWvZ4RQnTsZDzVmy511Kg&oe=6620ED23

person_profile

Shep002

https://scontent-atl3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/436361583_262699290254757_8439180205830085046_n.jpg?_nc_cat=105&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=5nx3sirBBTkAb63lZQe&_nc_ht=scontent-atl3-2.xx&oh=00_AfBtBsgX5v4YSbysLG-WiHGxvhOORfh4cOZVg9GmsH_-mA&oe=6620DE97

“You seem out of sorts.” My boyfriend&#039;s best friend peers into my eyes. <br /> “Nothing to worry about. And nothing to do with you, quite frankly.” A little too forcefully, perhaps. <br /> “Ramzi,” he says, “You’re not okay.”<br /> “I’m not your problem,” I say. <br /> “Rob is your best friend. He’s been your best friend since you were in diapers. You’re practically brothers. And he’s my boyfriend. Whatever you’re thinking when you look at me, that’s got to stop.” <br /> One heartbeat. Then another. And another. <br /> Two words. His voice is gruff. Barely a whisper. If I wasn’t listening with every fiber of my being I would miss them under the sound of the coffee machine. <br /> “I know.”<br /> ————————<br /> Ramzi<br /> Holy sheet. I want to die. <br /> I curl around the heat pack like I’m the human equivalent of a stress ball. Arms hugged around my cramping belly, I pretzel myself into the corner of the couch and use one hand to tug the blanket up around my neck each time it starts to slip. <br /> Having my period sucks. Every month it’s the same. Killer headache. Killer cramps. Exhaustion. <br /> The only good thing about it is that it’s the one time of the month that I don’t feel bad about my donut addiction. Donuts because you get more volume for your calorie consumption than you do with chocolate. Ask me what I learned when I first tried to diet away the pounds I gained in college. Go for bulk over calorie density every da mn time. You can eat so much more caramel popcorn than you can eat chocolate. Same with donuts. One block of chocolate or five glazed from my pal Krispy Kreme? Do the math. Chocolate is not a girl’s best friend. Donuts are. The box on the coffee table has one plain donut left and I am not above eating it, should the whim strike. <br /> Especially since I’ve been feeling even more emotional since the window slammed shut on my sx life months ago. The last time we even tried… Rob was so drunk that he pulled me into bed, wrapped my hand around his shaft, and promptly passed out half on top of me. <br /> sx isn’t everything. It sure as isn’t anything today, while I’m writhing in agony and slowly dying from blood loss. But I miss him so much. Even before the sx stopped, I’d started to feel the distance between us. <br /> He used to make a beeline for me the minute he got home. He’d ki ss me senseless. Want to sleep with to me. Want to talk about our days. We’d cook dinner together while we talked and shared a bottle of drink or a couple of drinks. He was attentive and sweet. hot<br /> He still is those things. He’s also tired and stressed. The last time I tried to talk to him about the distance between us, he asked me to be patient. After all, he’s working his hip off for us. To create the life we talked about. So we can get married and buy a house and have a family. <br /> I wanted to tell him that I don’t care about any of those things, but he’d kis sed my cheek and told me that he loved me. Begged me to be patient. <br /> That was months ago. Before the sx stopped. Every time I’ve brought it up since, he’s promised it’s all because of work and it won’t be much longer. He’s on the fast track to make partner. Then he can slow down to a more reasonable pace. We can finally do the things we’ve talked about. All he needs is me to trust that he’s doing it for us. <br /> I do trust him, which is why I let it go. There aren’t a lot of people that I trust in this life. Rob is king of the pile. He’s the only person I’ve really gotten close to since my mom died, just shy of my eighteenth birthday. But lately I’ve been feeling like I’m the only one in this relationship at all. <br /> “Rob?” I stretch over and tap him on the shoulder. <br /> “Hang on.” He finishes his move and pushes his headset from his ears, but he doesn’t take his gaze from the screen because his character is still in play. “What’s up?” <br /> “I…” Should I really be addressing my concerns with him while I’m overly emotional and probably overthinking it? “Do you want to go on a movie date this week?”<br /> “I’m not sure.” He drops his controller to pick up his drink from the coffee table. He takes a swig and puts it on the coaster. “I have a heavy case load at the moment.” <br /> Not too heavy to spend Sunday afternoon playing video games. <br /> “Could we try?” I ease myself up into a sitting position. “I feel like we haven’t done anything together in ages. Just the two of us.” <br /> “We’re hanging out now.” He swallows and checks his watch before stretching his arms above his head. “We could have lunch together. Are you hungry, babe?”<br /> “I could eat.” Honestly, the donuts were probably enough to tide me over, but I’m so thrilled at the unexpected glimpse of my Rob that I will happily balance out my sugar overload with some protein and greenery. <br /> His phone vibrates with a message. He picks it up to read it. <br /> “Should we ord—&quot;<br /> “Can you make me a sandwich while you’re in the kitchen?” <br /> My teeth click together as I shut my mouth. Uh, what now?<br /> He finally glances up from whatever is holding his attention on his phone screen. His eyes widen. &quot;Would you rather order in?”<br /> “I thought that was what we were doing.” <br /> “Well, with Pez coming over… you know he likes your pastrami on rye because we have that mustard. The one without the grains.”<br /> “I know.” <br /> “But there’s that deli…” He leans forward and picks up his phone. “They have the right mustard. And that burger you like. With the blue cheese. Oh, they’re closed.” <br /> “I didn’t realize Pez was coming over.” I just mentioned we hadn’t spent much alone time lately, and he said we’re hanging out right now, which I presumed… I didn’t realize he meant for five minutes or less. Does what we’ve done today even qualify as hanging out? Just because we were in the same room for an hour? We didn’t even speak until I brought up the fact that we haven’t hung out in a while. And now Pez is coming over… <br /> His brow pinches. “I really thought I told you. Sorry, babe. He’ll be here any minute.” <br /> My heart beats a little out of sync. Probably a change in my blood pressure from sitting up. It has nothing to do with my boyfriend’s best friend. <br /> Or the way my breath hitches every time Rob mentions Pez. Or the fact that I’ve noticed the way he looks at me the couple of times we’ve caught up since the night of Rob’s promotion, when he thinks neither Rob nor I are paying attention. I feel the burn of his eyes when I glance away, and I hate the way I don’t hate the sensation as much as I should. <br /> It’s only because Rob has been so distant. It’s not because of any connection I feel to Pez. I don’t get tingles every time I remember how Pez looked at me the way he did that night, when an innocent touch made goosebumps flare on my skin. When I’ve noticed the way he’s looked at me since. <br /> When did he start looking at me like that? <br /> The squeeze in my belly at the idea of seeing him is a cramp. Just a cramp. I rub at the bumps coming up on my arms because… Pez. The prickly sensation under my skin is wigging me out. If only Tylenol could fix that like it does the cramps. <br /> “Let me make the sandwiches.” Rob stands, his attention swinging back to the TV. “What do you want on yours?” <br /> “It’s fine. It’s okay.” I need to walk away and take a breath. I push myself up from the couch. I’m not exactly the princess type. I grew up in a one parent household and my mom was always working. I learned to look after myself from an early age. But to say I’m disappointed that I’m about to drag my hip to the kitchen to make lunch for two grown men after I got my hopes up that Rob and I were on the same wavelength would be an understatement. <br /> “You might want to hide out in the bedroom while he’s here,” Rob says. <br /> My insides tighten. Has Rob noticed the weirdness between Pez and me? “What?” <br /> “We’re going to have a few drinks. Play some FIFA. I know you hate how loud we get.”<br /> I roll my gaze at the back of his head. Every time they play that soccer game they get heated and end up in some shouting match with whoever they’re playing with online. <br /> It’s the most thoughtful thing he’s said to me all day. Even if I’d much rather he wanted to spend time with me. <br /> “Pez hasn’t been around much recently,” I fish… for what, I’m not sure. Is Pez avoiding me? Should I be avoiding him? Obviously Rob hasn’t noticed any weirdness, but that doesn’t mean he won’t at some point. <br /> “He’s been busy,” Rob says. “The man has a life outside of hanging around with us.”<br /> “Of course.” That makes sense. Maybe there is nothing to worry about. Maybe I’m imagining it’s more than it is. “I’ll go make some sandwiches.” <br /> I start pulling ingredients out of the fridge and pantry to put together lunch for three. Like Rob suggested, I’ll retire to the bedroom once I’ve eaten. Ignore the weirdness that is probably all me. Pez told me a long time ago that I wasn’t his type. This tension between us is probably something stupid like he doesn’t like my new perfume and thinks it smells like old socks. Or he has allergies. Right? Totally, that’s what it is. <br /> Neither of them will think it’s strange for me to disappear for the afternoon. I don’t usually hang out when they’re playing video games anyway. <br /> Escaping into a really good book sounds like heaven, actually. A dark romance, preferably, with a vicious hero who would murder anyone who upset his heroine while she was bleeding everywhere. Yup, and then make sweet, dirty love to her in the shower once the cramps stopped. <br /> My brain must miss sx as much as I do because she takes me there. Steam in the air. Soap on my skin. The scent of my grapefruit and mint shampoo in my nose. <br /> Big hands on my belly, an impressive stretch of hard chest to my back. “I can’t stop thinking about you riding my shaft. You want that too, don’t you? Say you want me.” <br /> I nod feverishly, heat blooming inside me. Tingles everywhere. “I want it.” <br /> Something big and thick and long presses to the crack of my hip as he takes my hands and presses them to the tiles. Firm lips caress the shell of my ear. “Spread your legs a little wider for me.” <br /> <br /> My insides seem to pour out of me at the thought. Like hot butter. If butter smelled like copper and stained everything it freaking touches. I jump like those kids in the video clip for that song “Jump” by Kris Kross. Legs crossed and slightly panicked, I waddle across the kitchen, certain I’m about to drip on the floor. <br /> Hello, crime scene investigator, is this a murder investigation? No, just Ramzi on her period. <br /> I even had an IUD put in to help with my uterus’s need to expel blood like something from a horror movie every month. Apparently it works to lighten periods for most women. Not me. I’m such a lucky bimbo. <br /> “Hey, babe, can you please bring us a couple drinks?” Rob calls out from the living room. “Pez just got here.” <br /> Great. I roll my gaze at the ceiling as that warm, wet splotch cools while it starts to run down my freaking leg. . <br /> “ .” I cover my face with my hands. I have to go through the living space to get to the bedroom. Where everything I need is. Which means walking around with blood staining the thigh of my blue leggings. It might not be all that noticeable; a good twist to try and see only proves I will never be a contortionist, but it’s still horrifying. <br /> “Hey, Ramzi.” Pez turns to stone the second he enters the kitchen. His brows draw together like two caterpillars. He takes in what must be the absolutely mortified expression on my face. “Is everything okay?” <br /> Another gush hits my panties. Stupid freaking uterus and its terrible timing. <br /> “Drink. In the fridge. Can you…” I toss the words at him over my shoulder as I penguin shuffle from the room as quickly as I can. We might be pals for Rob’s sake, but we’re not check-out-my-period-stain-it-looks-like-Chandler-Bing kind of friendly. <br /> Once I’m out of the kitchen I speed walk to the bedroom. <br /> Rob glances up then goes back to his game as I shut the door. Whether he noticed the stain on my pants or not I have no clue. He used to be the guy who followed me into the bedroom to make sure I was okay. I always was okay, even though my period sucks. It’s not like he could do anything to help that I couldn’t do for myself. <br /> But now I don’t know if he doesn’t try or if we’ve just grown so distant, he can’t tell that box of donuts on the coffee table is a dead giveaway as to what time of month it is. <br /> A tear falls down my cheek. My eyes brim as I gather new pants and underwear and take them into the bathroom. There’s no pretending it’s all hormones. Rob is distant. And I don’t know what to do about it. <br /> I change out of my clothes and wipe up with a washcloth before I put on new panties and the mother of all sanitary napkins. Any bigger and I might as well take to wearing an adult diaper. I shove my feet through the holes in my leggings—black ones this time—and pull them up my thighs. Then take a few deep breaths while checking myself out in the mirror.<br /> Whatever is going on with Rob, this tsunami of a period, the whole weird moment with Pez a few weeks ago… and the awkward way he’s avoided me since... I’ve got this. I’m Superwoman. I can figure it out.<br /> Rob and Pez are enthralled in their game by the time I leave the bedroom. Bottled drinks sit open on coasters between them. Headsets are donned. And the smack talk they’re shooting at each other is ridiculous. <br /> Pez’s gaze catches mine as I shut the bedroom door. Warm aquamarine eyes, riddled with concern. <br /> Guilt over my stupid fantasy makes it impossible to keep eye contact. What am I doing imagining him like that? <br /> “You dropped the ball, dude,” Rob crows as he hammers the little buttons on his controller. <br /> “I let you have it,” Pez retorts as he returns his focus to the game and steals the ball from Rob’s character. “Since your game is so weak.”<br /> I leave them to it and head back to the kitchen. I had all the ingredients laid out but I still need to make lunch before I can hide away. <br /> “Not all of us have time to play with ourselves,” I hear Rob whoop. <br /> I slather butter on rye bread then layer on mustard and pastrami. <br /> “Looks good,” Pez says over my shoulder. <br /> I yelp and clasp the knife to my heart. “You scared me.” <br /> “You have mustard on your shirt.”<br /> “Oh .” I gag as I drop the knife on the cutting board and grab the hem of my shirt and wriggle it up over my belly. Mustard is so freaking disgusting. Like a wet, slimy glob of poop. I gag again and almost puke. If the guys didn’t like it so much it would not live in my kitchen. “Oh God. So gross.”<br /> “Ramzi.” Pez says my name like it’s strangling him. “Stop.” <br /> I halt with my arms tangled in the cotton. . I have my shirt halfway off, the material around my ears. I’m alone with Pez in my kitchen with my shirt over my head. <br /> Am I even wearing a bra? <br /> Yes! Yes, I remember putting on my old faithful after I cleaned up. The one where the underwire came out and the straps are all wavy from being overstretched. It looks like it’s on its last legs, a little thread, but it’s so comfortable. Like a silky cradle for my hormonally-oversensitive-chest. <br /> And Pez is copping an eyeful. <br /> “ . . .” <br /> “Let me?” His voice is thick and rough and so close. It’s right there and so are his hands as he begins to tug at the material around my elbows. <br /> “No. Don’t.” I spin away from him. Can’t let him touch me. Shouldn’t be giving him an eyeful of the girls. <br /> The rational part of my brain reminds me that he’s seen me in a bikini before. A crop top. A sports bra. Unfortunately that part of my brain doesn’t realize she should be paying attention to my feet. I trip over my own toes and end up taking several sideways steps in a hurry. “Urgh.” <br /> “Got you.” He wraps his hands around my sides before I careen into the table. My skin quivers under the heat of his palms as he finds my balance for me and slowly drags the material back down my arms and over my torso.<br /> I’m breathing ridiculously hard by the time he reaches for the sponge on the corner of the sink. <br /> “Sorry.” He wets it and squeezes out the excess. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to see if you needed any help.” <br /> He moves to slip his fingers inside the collar of my shirt so he can pull it away from my skin. Even though he touched me before, he’s nearer now. So close that when I inhale, his outdoorsy cologne is all I can smell. It suits him. That earthy fragrance on his warm, soap fresh skin. <br /> I clear my throat. <br /> He blinks like he’s coming out of a trance. His face turns scarlet. “Sorry.”<br /> He’s too close still. I stretch my hand out between us. “Sponge. Please.” <br /> “Oh.” He glances at the yellow foam in his hand like he’s uncertain. Then presses it into my hand. “Here.” <br /> The contact lingers. <br /> It’s no more than a few seconds but it feels so much more than that. It’s electrifying and totally weird. And wrong that it feels so… big and real. <br /> I turn away from him as I dab at my top. This freaky thing that is happening with Pez right now. It’s nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. I don’t like him like that. I’m not even attracted to him. I haven’t been since high school when he made it plain as day that I would be an idiot to like him. And I am not an idiot. I could never be interested in Pez after that day. Especially when I’m with Rob. <br /> Only he was the one in my head when I daydreamed that nice little shower fantasy. He’s slipped into my head more than I will ever care to admit. Guilt has me nibbling at my lip the same way it’s eating at me. I can’t let that happen again. I can’t think about Pez like that. It’s so freaking wrong. I love Rob. We’ve been together for three years. So what if we’ve hit a rough patch? It’s temporary. <br /> “Are… we… okay?” Pez asks like he’s reading my mind. And with the way he’s staring at me when I turn back to him, he very well might be. <br /> I stare back at him. Don’t let him in. Don’t give anything away. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we be?” <br /> He shoves his hands in his pockets. Hugs his arms to his side and bounces on the balls of his feet. “I don’t know.”<br /> He’s always had a lot of nervous energy, especially when he feels awkward. Used to take it out on the basketball court back in the day. Or climbing. Or boxing. They still play basketball most weeks. Go climbing at the Rockery too. Except when Rob is working extra hours.<br /> Pez turns his attention toward the living room, where Rob is verbally sparring with someone through his headset. <br /> “Nothing happened,” I say, needing to put us both out of our misery. It’s true. Nothing really happened. We’re just two friends hanging out in the kitchen. I got mustard on my shirt. He passed me the sponge. Literally nothing to see here, folks. <br /> But it’s the way my body reacts when he looks at me like he wants me that is the problem. It’s the way I can’t stop imagining those words he spoke to that girl months ago were meant for me. It’s the way I’ve fantasized about him. Gotten the good kind of pins and needles…<br /> Even now I’m imagining him pushing me up against the cupboards and whispering those words in my ear. That’s where the issue lies. I need to stop thinking about him like this. “Not a thing.” <br /> “Are you sure? You seem out of sorts.” He peers into my eyes like he’s looking for some particular answer, but I don’t have a clue what he hopes to find. <br /> “Nothing to worry about. And nothing to do with you, quite frankly.” I pat his bicep like I’ve done a thousand times. A little too forcefully, perhaps, considering how awkward this is. <br /> “Good.” His gaze steals to my lips. He startles as he catches himself. His hand goes for his hair. <br /> “Here. You can carry this. I don’t have three hands.” I thrust a plate into his palm before he can lift it to shoulder height. Butterflies are rocketing around inside me like pinballs in one of those antique arcade games he collects. I hand him a second plate. “This one too. I think I want to make coffee.” <br /> “Ramzi,” he says, and I don’t know what to make of the way he says it. It’s friendly, but it’s more than friendly. It tugs at my heart and gives me goosebumps, and it shouldn’t. I should feel neither of those. <br /> Maybe a million years ago… <br /> But he had his chance and he didn’t want me then. I moved on. I fell in love with Rob. I am in love with Rob. Whatever this is… between us… it’s wrong. And it’s too much for me to take on board right now. “Do you want coffee? No? Good. Go on, he’s waiting for you.” <br /> “You’re not okay,” he says as I busy myself with pouring ground coffee beans into the filter. <br /> “I’m not your problem,” I say. <br /> The heat and energy of him practically vibrates into my back, he’s so close. The warmth of his breath stirs the hair at the nape of my neck. My eyes well again. And I have never been so grateful that I handed him those plates to keep his hands full because if he touched me I don’t know how I would react. Would I sink into his arms because Rob hasn’t touched me in so long? Would I snap and break the most important relationship I have? And their friendship along with it. <br /> “Rob is your best friend. He’s been your best friend since you were in diapers. You’re practically brothers. And he’s my boyfriend. Whatever you’re thinking when you look at me, that’s got to stop.” <br /> One heartbeat. Then another. And another. <br /> Two words. His voice is gruff. Barely a whisper. If I wasn’t listening with every fiber of my being I would miss them under the sound of the coffee machine. <br /> “I know.”

Shep002

https://facebook.com/100093452425291

LEARN_MORE