I needed an easy way to find the group text so it wouldn’t get mixed up in my texts.
You have that many people texting you that ours gets lost?
Clarky
She’s very well liked Liam. People text her.
I’m very well liked too, but I don’t need to name all my group chats.
Little Hunt
Oh don’t give me that. You named the one you’re in with the guys The Avengers.
She isn’t wrong. I did do that.
I chuckle to myself and take another sip from my coffee before placing it on my nightstand beside me. My hand runs over my jaw, feeling the stubble that likely needs a shave at some point today. There’s a persistent ache coming from my left side and I’m afraid to even look, wondering if there might be bruising from yesterday’s game.
The amount of hits I took felt record high. And it’s only a matter of time before there’s a follow up text—to the one I didn’t answer—from my dad letting me know I played like shit yesterday.
I send an eye roll emoji in the group text and toss my phone on the bed next to me. I have to get up. I have to move around, otherwise the stinging pain will only get worse. A dip in the ice bath sounds good, and a possible Demi run-in sounds even better.
This last week would’ve been an ideal time to have a group of girlfriends—or even just one friend—that I could scream to about what happened with Liam. But I don’t, and therefore, Walt the bird has been getting an earful from me whenever he makes his presence known.
I did tell my mom, but I tell her everything. I don’t think I’ve gone more than two days in my life without speaking to her. And that has nothing to do with dependency and everything to do with her being my actual best friend.
But I guess I am needy when it comes to her. Proudly, though. Because she’s the best woman I know.
I spared her details but let her know she’d be happy to hear I did spend time with someone recently and enjoyed myself. She asked an array of questions, and I answered as willingly as I wanted to, but she literally has no idea it’s Liam Evans, and I’d like to keep it that way for the moment.
I’m still processing how the hell it happened. How I let it happen. But when I replay it in my mind, it was all me. I basically said “please kiss me!” to the one person who wouldn’t have to think twice about it.
I just needed a moment to feel something. I’d been numb for months. Not exactly wanting to admit it, but knowing it nonetheless. And being around Liam makes me feel joy again.
Swinging the sliding glass door open, I take a step out onto the patio. The humid air makes me blow out a deep breath as I take a seat on the chair, watching the clouds slowly move.
It’s only once I lean my head back and close my eyes that I hear the word “fuck” over and over in a hushed, deep tone. My brows crease and I look toward the sound of the voice, unable to see anything around the corner, but I hear moans and groans coming from a male voice before I hear something louder.
“Son of a bitch!” The words come shortly after there’s a knocking sound on the side of the building.
My lips pull in and I do my best to stifle a laugh, knowing Walt the bird is making his appearance this morning and disrupting whatever it is Liam was doing.
The black silk tie on my robe blows into my open coffee cup as the wind suddenly picks up, and I too find myself yelling out a string of curses as it does.
“Dem?” Liam’s deep voice carries around the corner.
We can’t see each other out here, but we can definitely hear one another.
“Uh, yeah. Hi.” I flick my hand to get the excess coffee off.
“You okay?”
“A little spilled coffee, that’s it. I’m fine.” I pause. “Are, uh, you okay?”
It sounded like someone could’ve been having sex with the way he was moaning a moment ago, and the thought of that unfortunately sends a flicker of jealousy through me.
“Sore ribs, ice bath.” He makes a gasping sound, and I assume he’s moving around at this point. “Come over for breakfast.” He’s definitely not one for subtle or beating around the bush.
“No,” I firmly state.
