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Dry-Pressed Shirts and Acid-Washed Jeans

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Waverly’s eyes filtered through the bar’s occupants, sorting them into three different categories. Yes, Maybe After a Few Shots, and Under No Circumstances. Purgatory was small and dating options were limited, but it was the last night before her first year of college started, and she was not starting her first year without having a one night stand.

Her eyes flitted to Champ Hardy, who posed a striking resemblance to a bear; burly, slow, and stupid, but attractive nonetheless.

With a hefty sigh, she frowned. He would have to do.

Unwilling to filter him into a category for fear of which one he would end up under (any of the three she put him in would be a bad match, but now wasn’t the time to think about that), she pushed herself from the barstool and into the mass of sweaty bodies collecting around the pool tables. Shorty’s was the only bar in town and thus always crowded, a mass of haphazardly upturned beers double-fisted by even more haphazardly drunks.

“Excuse me.” She tried her best to dart around someone who was easily six inches taller than her when they spun and yelped, sloshing their beer down the front of Waverly’s shirt.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” To her surprise, the voice was female. She glanced up, shirt be damned (for the moment), only to be met with stark red hair contrasting well against a tanned complexion, obvious even in the dim haze of the bar. She felt her breath tear from her throat and collect at the nape of her neck. Against her will, her mind immediately filtered her into the Yes category, and as much as Waverly wanted to chastise herself, she was unable.

“Oh—it’s fine,” she offered, more perturbed by how quickly her eyes had reacted than her mind.

“No, here, take this.” Waverly allowed a jacket to wrap over her shoulder, altogether too big for her yet somehow still cozy. “I really am so sorry.”

“Don’t be, I was the one that wasted your beer.”

“Please,” she laughed. Waverly couldn’t help but notice the way red hair framed her face, illuminating chocolate brown eyes and an unfairly gorgeous smile. “Everyone knows this beer is sub-par at best; the only reason anyone drinks it is because it’s the only bar in town.”

“Touché.”

“I’m Nicole, by the way.” She held out her hand and lingered slightly longer when Waverly accepted. “Nicole Haught. I’ve been meaning to introduce myself, but not quite like this.” At Waverly’s smile, she continued. “And you are Waverly Earp.”

Waverly blushed.

“Quite a popular girl around here.” Her eyes glanced Waverly up and down for a moment before settling again. “Can I ask you to a game of pool?”

“Are you looking to get your ass kicked?”

“Only by you.” Nicole’s wink sent a shiver down Waverly’s spine. The bar had begun to clear out as the night progressed, leaving a fairly hefty amount of people still lingering but enough so that Nicole was able to snag a pool table.

“My shirt is kinda sticky, not sure if I want to stick around for the next few hours kicking some sorry flatfoot rooky’s ass in pool whose getting in way over their head,” Waverly sighed.

“Oh? Is that how it is?” Her grin was as close to malicious without being worrisome as possible, and Waverly’s eyebrows raised. Something about the aura Nicole exuded, cocky swagger with a hint of—was that vanilla?—drew Waverly toward her like a moth to candlelight. She’d come to the bar with the intention of getting drunk, laid, or both, and waking up next to a snoring guy whose name she wouldn’t bother to remember, anyway—but this.

This was entirely out of the ballpark for her. Completely uncharted waters.

Perhaps it was time to go for a swim.

“How about I make you a deal, Waverly Earp?” Each syllable in her name was pronounced sharply and infuriatingly enough, it drew Waverly in closer.

“And what do you suggest, Haught?”

“Simple.” She twirled the pool stick around in her hands for a moment as she stalked around the table. “You win, I’ll pay to get that shirt dry cleaned. But, when I win…” Her hand came up to trace Waverly’s jawline. “You come home with me.”

Despite her mind protesting, her body relented. She shivered. “Hope you’ve got forty bucks to cough up when you get this shirt cleaned.” Nicole allowed her to take the first shot, inwardly cringing when Waverly sunk one in. “Oh, and I like it dry-pressed afterwards.” Her smile was borderline flirtatious.

“Hmm.” Nicole lined her own up and grinned smugly as her shot when exactly as planned. “Whatever you say, Earp.” There was something so meticulously beautiful about the way Nicole composed herself; the way her hips swayed as she lined up for a shot, or the way the muscles in her arms tightened as she waited to see if her planning had worked out. Nicole had caught her staring one or two times and absolutely used it to her advantage, jutting her hips out further than necessary and subtly flexing her arms—which, damn. Long legs were clad in acid-washed skinny jeans that was absolutely doing her ass a favor, and Waverly found herself struggling to tear her eyes from it.

This had gone on too long, the faux-pretending her interactions with Nicole were anything other than her original intention of getting laid.

So, of course, Waverly did exactly what her mind told her not to and her body screamed for—she purposely lost the game. “Oops,” she murmured as the eight ball struck a corner and rolled back into the middle. From there it was an easy shot for Nicole, who played it off entirely too much. “Guess I missed.”

“Looks like you did.” Nicole’s smile was almost predatory in a way that made Waverly’s insides melt, and she felt her eyes drawn to where Nicole’s tongue darted out to lick her lips. “Looks like I won the bet, too. Which means…” Her voice trailed off as her fingertips collected a strand of Waverly’s hair and began to twirl it.

“Which means you’re in for a lucky night,” Waverly finished.


“I’m sorry—it’s completely a mess, I wasn’t really expecting anyone.” Nicole immediately went about shoving plates into the sink. If she’d known Waverly Earp was coming over, she probably would’ve made a substantial effort to not have the place look so trashed. “I promise the bedroom is better.”

“The bedroom? I thought I was coming over for a movie night?”

Nicole blanked. “I—I mean, we can do that instead, I thought my intentions were pretty obvious, but I’d never rush you into anything you didn’t want—”

“Relax, silly. I was bluffing.” It was an odd paradox, the way Waverly’s words were syrupy sweet but her actions were not. “Show me the bedroom.” The next words were whispered directly into Nicole’s ear and she had to physically restrain herself from yelping before Waverly’s hand was cool and soft against her lower back and she was leading her against a wall. “Before I have my way with you right here.”


As much talk as Waverly was, Nicole realized, she was a pillow princess. Which was good, but nevertheless surprising from how much confidence she had exuded at the bar, or even in the living room moments previous.

“Big talker now?” Nicole asked, delighting in the way Waverly’s skin became flushed with goosebumps. Her back arched off the bed to gain contact with Nicole, who gladly molded herself against Waverly. Fingers stroked her hips and pulled, legs entangled. “You’re wearing too much.”

“Let me do something about it, then.”

Nicole sat back and motioned towards Waverly’s shirt. “By all means.” To her surprise, Waverly’s fingers found the hemline of her own shirt and lifted, revealing Nicole’s abdomen. Her bra wasn’t anything special—a plain black one that wasn’t unflattering but didn’t do wonders, per se.

Waverly’s pupils dilated and she leaned in, pressing feather-light kisses up her chest in between the valley of her breasts. Goosebumps erupted across Nicole’s collarbones. Her legs wrapped around Nicole’s waist as she pulled herself up, up, until their hips were pressed together. Nicole grunted into her mouth and began to grind slowly. Her hands pressed down hard into Waverly’s hips, pushing her down to gain friction.

A small groaned slipped between Waverly’s lips as her toes flexed in arousal— damn, it had been too long. Teeth brushed against teeth as Nicole smiled and worked Waverly’s shirt over her own head. “A bit worked up?”

“Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself?”

“Let me help you out, baby.” Waverly still straddling her, Nicole snaked her hand down and cupped against Waverly, grinding the heel of her palm against the apex of her thighs until Waverly’s eyes were rolling into the back of her head. Dexterous fingers popped the button of her shorts and slid into warm wetness, stroking gently before carefully, carefully, sliding up inside her.

Waverly hissed in pleasure and let her head drop forward onto Nicole’s shoulder as her hips jolted forward of their own accord. And thus the rhythm was born, Waverly’s hips moving in time to Nicole’s breathing as her finger curled inside her. A second finger was added and Waverly bit down, hard, on Nicole’s bare shoulder until teeth marks remained. Nicole snarled and dug her fingers up higher and then they were there, pressing into the spot that made Waverly want to scream and cry all at the same time.

“Found it?” Nicole ventured.

Waverly’s jaw went slack and her entire back arched, walls squeezing around Nicole’s fingers until she was coming, an intense orgasm that left her gasping against Nicole and her toes so tightly flexed she was positive they would never quite straighten out the same again. A variety of curse words filtered through her mind, slipping out in indeterminate intervals as the final waves of her pleasure rippled against her spine.

Nicole allowed her a few moments to collect herself before pulling her fingers out of her shorts and moving to wipe them off on the sheets; they were already sweaty, it wasn’t like they wouldn’t have to be changed after this whole ordeal anyway. Waverly’s hand found Nicole’s wrist before she was able to, pulling her fingers into her mouth and working her tongue around them for a moment before releasing them with a pop. Nicole’s eyes went wide. “Ohhhhkay,” she drawled. Her voice had taken up an arousal-clouded lilt as she focused her attention to Waverly’s tongue.

“Too far?” The concern in Waverly’s eyes was palpable and she immediately stopped her ministrations.

“Not far enough. Put that tongue to good use somewhere else.” Nicole had never been one to demand actions from her lovers, always preferring a sweeter sort of vibe, but Waverly’s pupils dilated and her breathing shallowed out as her head bobbed.

Nicole leaned back against her hands and dropped down to her elbows, allowing Waverly to wriggle her out of her jeans and discard them somewhere behind her. She hadn’t lied earlier—the bedroom was in much better shape than the outside of the house had been, but that didn’t mean it was clean by any stretch of the mind. Besides, those jeans needed a wash; she was fairly certain she’d soaked through them in the expanse of time it took for Waverly to blow her fingers.

“Nicole.” Waverly’s voice was no longer the seductive, edgy growl it had been earlier. “I’ve never…I haven’t…” She gestured to Nicole’s pelvis and sat back on her heels.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay,” she whispered back, starting to sit up. Waverly’s hand pressed against her chest so quickly she thought she might have imagined it, but then there was pressure as she pushed her down until she was on her back again.

“I do. I just mean—you’ll have to help me.” An impish grin settled over Waverly’s lips. Her fingers began to stroke the inside of Nicole’s thighs, close to where simple cotton panties still covered her. Ideally, not for long.

Nicole laced her hands through Waverly’s hair, twirling around her fingers for traction before gently pushing her head down until she was placing kisses along her upper thighs and her hands were splaying over Nicole’s calves. It didn’t take long for her head to roam where Nicole wanted it, nose nudging against her underwear until her fingers deftly slid it off.

The first stroke of her tongue was more out of curiosity of reaction; Nicole absolutely played it up a bit, moaning a little too loud for what she actually felt. Waverly seemed fond of the encouragement.

The next came swifter and more firm, the flat of her tongue finally pressing into her clit. The moan Nicole exhaled was much less falsified, and Waverly took to it immediately, palming her hands into Nicole’s ass to pull her closer.

Nicole’s fingers fisted harder into Waverly’s hair, pressing her face where she needed it, Waverly happy to oblige. “Fuck, yes, that’s it baby,” Nicole panted. Her fingers were white from pressing into Waverly’s skull, but she couldn’t find it in her to care, not when Waverly was doing that against her clit.

Her orgasm took Waverly by surprise as her thighs clamped down over Waverly’s face, locking her into place. If anything, Waverly’s tongue only worked against her harder, coaxing moan after moan out of her until she reletened and pushed Waverly away when the sensation was too intense. “Are you—there’s no way that was your first time.”

“I’m a fast learner,” Waverly replied, slinking up Nicole to mold their bodies and press kisses to a sweat-sheened neck. Nicole’s finger slid under her chin and lifted until their lips were pressed together. The taste of her come mixed with Waverly was a heady flavor, one that she was sure she could drown in if she kissed Waverly long enough.

It was always worth a shot.


Eight a.m. found Waverly squinting against the sunlight that had begun filtering through a window, naked and under the sheets of a stranger’s bed. Her hand flung out in search of another body but was only met with empty sheets and a fading warmth.

Grunting, she hauled herself into a sitting position and looked around. Her shirt from the night before had been hung up nicely on the door handle with a receipt for a dry-cleaner’s bill tucked in and the price scratched out. Her shoes and bra had been neatly aligned next to it as well. She pulled them on and wandered into the kitchen, greeted by the familiar smell of coffee in the form of a starbucks cup on the (somewhat cleaner) table. Underneath was a note.

Waverly—

I wasn’t sure about any dietary restrictions you might have, so I got you a vanilla soy latte. You can’t really go wrong with that. Unless you can, in which case, let me make it up to you and take you out for different coffee some time. Even if you can drink it, let me still take you out.

Your shirt is clean and hanging on the bedroom door—if you’re reading this it mean you’ve successfully made it out of the room into the kitchen which also means you’ve probably found your shirt. Don’t worry about the expense.

If you see something small and orange darting around the apartment, that’s Calamity Jane. She’s sweet but she’ll go for your ankles in a heartbeat. Should you feel so inclined, there are treats for her in the pantry.

Sorry I had to step out so early, I have work. But I look forward to seeing you again. Go ahead and give me a call sometime; I’d really like that.

Last night was fun.

—Nicole.

At the bottom was a hastily written phone number Waverly took no time putting into her phone and flourishing with a little heart emoji. Class didn’t start for another two hours—plenty of time to go home and shower.

There was no doubt in her mind—she wanted to see Nicole again tonight.


University of Purgatory was relatively smaller compared to other campuses she’d looked it, with a dwindling population of only a few thousand students versus the more well-known schools. Waverly had never been one for crowds, and it was close to home (and, admittedly, Wynonna, whom she needed just as much as Wynonna needed her), so she had struggled to find one reason not to go.

That, and out-of-region tuition was a bitch.

September was still relatively close to summer in Purgatory with a heat that ebbed and flowed throughout the day. The shorts from last night had been absolutely ruined with her arousal, so she’d opted for a similar pair to let her legs breathe as her hunt for the Hypatia Mathematics building began.

Calculus—what had she been thinking? History was entirely more her gig, but a harder schedule meant more credits and Waverly was the last person to back out of a challenge.

After what felt like hours (presumably a few minutes) of searching, she let herself into the building and found a seat near the front, backpack coming to rest against her legs. RateMyProfessor had warned her about Lucado being one of the college’s hardest teachers to date, but her jaw fell open when it wasn’t Lucado who walked in at all, but rather her TA.

Nicole took one look around the room, syllabi in hand, before settling on Waverly.