RED NOTES AND KISSES-Chapter 32: FRIDA -

The air in her dorm felt stifling, even with the window cracked open to let in the crisp autumn breeze.

The movie on the TV wasn’t helping, cause the couple got involved in a hot kiss after a first date and they stripped each other naked completely. He lifted her and began thrusting into her on the wall.

Frida leaned against the counter, staring blankly, his words played on a loop in her head, mixing with the fragmented memories of last night.

She bit her lip imagining they were the couple in the movie and his dark hair in her hands feeling so good as he hungrily kissed her lips and his hands moving all over her body and she touched every inch of him with equal hunger.

Laz. His name whispered through her mind, unrelenting. Heat pooled between her legs again and she looked at the air conditioner, she was pretty sure the damn thing wasn’t working.

The knife sat on the cutting board, forgotten as she drifted back into her thoughts.

The way his name had tumbled from her lips last night, unbidden and raw.

The way she’d moaned it as pleasure coursed through her body, leaving her shaking and breathless.

Frida slammed the knife down and turned away from the counter, crossing the room in three quick strides.

He was consuming her mind like a parasite with the thoughts of what she wanted him to do her and she wanted so much more.

She ached for him.

The dorm wasn’t large enough to pace properly, but she made do, her bare feet padding across the worn rug that covered the wooden floor. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

She needed to distract herself, to drown out the swirl of emotions clawing at her chest.

Her gaze fell on the speaker sitting on the counter, and without hesitation, she hit play.

To Continue the smooth, sultry tones of jazz filled the room, wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. That her mother had disrupted.

The rhythm was familiar, steadying. It reminded her of mornings spent in the kitchen with her dad, the smell of pancakes and syrup in the air as the records played in the background.

The sound of her phone ringing cut through the music again and she nearly screamed as her mom named flashed on the screen again.

She took the call walking towards the fridge. She twirled, the hem of her oversized t-shirt brushing against her thighs as she spun.

For a no reason...and she stopped, if someone saw her now they’d see she was fighting herself.

Her wants, her desires, her needs.

Frida poured water from the jug into a glass, the cool liquid splashing against the sides before she brought it to her lips.

She needed something cold, desperately. The knot of tension in her chest tightened as her mother’s voice continued to echo through the phone.

Did she know, what that name did to her?

What just hearing that name was doing to her?

She was obsessing over a man who hasn’t spoken to her in ages imagining him fucking her in the rawest ways.

Even to the point her stalker was a depiction of him in her dreams.

His name was not the first thing she wanted to hear in the morning, nor the second, or third, or any other part of her day.

Her mother’s voice chimed brightly on the other end. "Like I was saying before someone rudely ended the call. I just saw Laurel in the supermarket and thought, ’It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other,’ you know, us being busy with our hospital affairs and them with their technology business stuff."

Frida nodded absently, her patience thinning. "Mmhmm, great. Get to the point, Mom. I’m busy." She swirled the glass in her hand, taking another sip as she leaned against the counter, her other hand tracing invisible circles along the cool marble.

Her mother’s tone shifted, teasing now. "Ooooooooh, finally got a boyfriend, do we?"

Frida rolled her eyes, the glass clinking against the counter as she set it down. "No."

"So you’re telling me, my 23-year-old daughter has never experienced a man?" The question was laced with both concern and disbelief.

Frida’s cheeks burned. Technically, that wasn’t true anymore.

But there was no way in hell she was saying that to her mom.

She turned to the cabinets, opening one and pretending to search for something to busy her hands. "Are you gay?"

"Mom!" she groaned, exasperated. She grabbed a mixing bowl, just to make a show of it. "You know what? I think you have nothing to say."

Her mother sighed dramatically, and Frida could practically hear her shaking her head on the other end of the line. "No, I do! I’m just concerned."

A pause. "You’re no fun... Anyways, we decided you and Laz should come home for Thanksgiving. Spend the week with us. It’s been so long!"

Frida froze, gripping the edge of the counter so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Of all the ridiculous, stupid ideas in history... She bit back a sharp retort, forcing herself to breathe. "No!"

The denial was out of her mouth before she could think it through.

It wasn’t like Laz was going to come anyway. He hadn’t attended Thanksgiving for the past three years, and they both knew why.

He always found an excuse to stay away because he knew she’d be there.

"No!" Her mom’s gasp was so loud Frida winced, pulling the phone away from her ear slightly.

"I don’t understand," Laurel continued, her voice turning wistful and sad.

"You and Laz used to be such cute, adorable best friends until we moved to New York. What happened?"

Frida’s jaw clenched, and she reached for a knife, slicing into a bright red apple with perhaps a little more force than necessary. "Well, things change," she said curtly, the blade hitting the cutting board with a sharp thunk.

"We’ve... outgrown each other. We’re adults now."

"Nonsense!" Laurel snapped, her tone unusually firm. Frida nearly jumped, startled by the rare burst of anger from her otherwise calm and doting mother.

"You’re coming for Thanksgiving," Laurel declared, leaving no room for argument.

"Or we will bring it to your dorm. End of discussion!"

Frida stared at the phone in disbelief as her mom ended the call, leaving her standing in her tiny kitchen with the half-sliced apple and a swirl of emotions she couldn’t untangle.