Everyone's Favorite Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

one could.
    I might as well press Flora's button myself.  We were as good as dead.  No reason not to end on a high note.  A drop of Libido and a dash of Love, the one-stop solution to all my woes.  Like a grumpy, distant husband who suddenly cheers up when you put his unwashed dick in your mouth.
    Flora said I always tried to have sex with her on the first night.  Whatever had stopped me before, I couldn't see it succeeding again.
    As the day progressed, Flora avoided me more and more.  Nose in a book.  Cleaning.  Taking a shower.  Whenever she completed one task, she rushed off to another, announcing her intentions as though I'd bothered to ask.  I knew what she was doing.  I've done it a million times.  Ted wore his sexual desire right on his face, and when I saw it but wasn't in the mood myself, I'd spend ten times the energy ducking and dodging his advances than I would have spent just getting it over with.
    I followed her around for part of the day, starting when she took a shower.  I was tired and too lazy to find my own things to do.
    Flora pretended I wasn't standing there in the doorway with my arms crossed, watching like some sort of bathing instructor as she lathered her entire body extensively and then stepped back into the shower's stream, and again when she stood in the closet with a towel around her waist sorting through what remained of Kate's wardrobe.  According to Flora, Kate came through and raided the place before moving in with Sean.
    When I finally spoke up, a little of the edge was gone.  I managed to sound pleasant for the first time all day.
    "That looks cute."
    She'd picked out a pair of running shorts and a white, skin-tight blouse, which she wore with no bra--James being our one daily gentleman caller.
    "Thanks," Flora said, clomping past me with her arms dead at her sides like a grounded teenager.
    "Did they take the DVDs?"
    "No."  She sat at the edge of the bed.
    "Want to watch a movie?"
    Shrugging, Flora ran her palm over the soft white comforter.  She didn't look up.  Another repeat from last week, I assumed.  When I said as much, Flora shook her head.
    "This is the first time you've asked me to watch a movie," she said.  "Usually you just watch one yourself, and I sit on the couch and read."
    "Well, why don't you pick a movie and I'll make some popcorn.  Do we have popcorn?"
    "I think so."
    "What do you want to drink?"
    She stood.  "I can get it.  You should sit down.  You look tired."
    I felt it, too, but I'd hit that long and sluggish stride in which one grows numb to exhaustion.  Probably the only reason I finally stopped nipping at Flora's heels.  Being mean and bitter takes effort.
    Right now I just wanted warmth and softness.  Even the most evil of men--visualize Mr. Shriver or Sean if you prefer--end their days with the same desire for comfort, rest, and security.
    I gave in to Flora rather easily, and while she dawdled in the kitchen, tiptoeing on the cold ceramic floor, I lay on my back taking in the scent of butter and the oddly relaxing series of muffled explosions coming from the microwave.  I felt better already.  It's funny how your perception of reality can suddenly dissolve and reform into a fantasy with the same physical structure but a different context.  A sudden feeling swept me up like flood waters, one of being a pre-freshman year teenager, having a sleepover with my best friend.
    What I wouldn't give for some flavored vodka and candy right now.  Flora and I could get hyped up and tipsy, raid the closet and play dress-up, snap risqué photos in poses suggestive of something we'd yet to experience, some pictures snapped playfully in-between outfits.  "Wouldn't the boys love to get their hands on these?" we would say, promising to keep them a secret.  Later we could video chat with strangers around the world in our underwear.  Call and flirt with boys.  Maybe send one a photo--not one of those , of course.  Settle in to watch a movie late