When I realize there’s no way they’ll let me escape without showing it to them, I mutter, “Jesus Christ,” before reaching for my phone out of my locker and finding the picture in the text. I click on the picture so they can’t see any of the text and show it.
Immediately, Posey grabs it, and the boys flock around him, checking it out.
“Hair is done. Makeup is on,” Silas says.
“Casual clothes but not dressed up,” OC adds.
“Not a sexy pose, just a selfie with a smile,” Pacey calls out.
Posey rubs his chin, then sits back on his chair. After a few seconds of studying it, he looks up at me and says, “This is . . . not a ‘please come between my legs’ picture.”
“Jesus fuck, Posey,” I moan. “Of course it’s not.”
“Well from the way you were skating today, we thought that it was a nearly topless picture of her making a kissy face at you,” Silas says. “This is just a normal picture.”
“I know,” I say, snagging the phone from him. “That’s what I told you.”
OC scratches his cheek as he says, “So if Holmes was skating that fast and possessed that much energy on the ice from just a simple thank-you picture, does that mean . . .” He pauses, trying to put pieces together in his head. “Does that mean he really is in love with this girl?”
“No,” I say as the collective group says yes.
“I don’t love her,” I reiterate. “I just have a little crush, okay?”
“Ha, little, that’s funny,” Silas says.
I peel off my socks and shin guards, then ask, “Are we done here? Because you motherfuckers stink, and I don’t want to be around you anymore.”
Posey nods to everyone. “We’re done, but I’m glad to see we’re making progress. Remember to text her tonight, but keep it simple, nothing like sweet dreams, my little ball of angel glitter.”
I cringe. “Who the fuck says that?”
“You’d be surprised by the things that come out of Silas’s mouth when he speaks to Ollie.” Posey grins.
“Fuck off,” Silas says, taking the attention off me. Thank God. “I don’t call Ollie a ball of angel glitter. She would fucking laugh in my face.”
“I think I heard you call her your pet,” Pacey says.
“Uh . . . no,” Silas says. “It’s just babe . . . and good girl.”
“Fuck, do the girls love that,” OC says.
“They do.” Silas nudges me. “When you get to that point with Blakely, remember to call her a good girl whenever you can.”
“I don’t need your fucking suggestions when it comes to the bedroom.”
“That’s right,” OC says with such conviction. “It’s because he has the girth-o-nater. He doesn’t have to say anything, just wield that thing like the goddamn orgasmic weapon that it is.”
“Stop talking about my dick. It’s getting weird.”
“Dude, we’re never going to stop talking about that canon,” Pacey says, causing all the guys to laugh.
Chapter Eight
BLAKELY
“Welcome back,” I yell as Penny walks into her fully decorated office that I coated in streamers, confetti, and a mini brunch for her and me. Virgin mimosas included—yes, that means it’s just orange juice, but calling them virgin mimosas sounds fancier.
Hand clutched to her chest, clearly startled, she says, “Oh my God, I was not expecting that.”
