Wall:everyone get to shelter NOW
Becker:what happened???
Wall:just GET HERE
Groover:on my way
Washington:ETA 30 minutes
MamaPaws:Oh dear
Jinx:WHAT'S HAPPENING
Petrov:roof is gone
I stare at the screen like it's written in ancient Greek, then at Devon.
"We better go, then," he says.
"Yeah."
Neither of us moves immediately. Devon's still on my lap, both of us disheveled and satisfied and very much not ready to deal with…whatever's coming.
"This is the worst timing," Devon says.
"Catastrophically bad timing."
"I'm going to murder Petrov."
"Get in line."
He climbs off my lap—a genuine tragedy—and I tuck myself back into my jeans, trying to make myself look like I wasn't just getting the best blow job of my life in a parking lot.
Devon's doing the same, though there's not much he can do about the obvious wet spot darkening his jeans.
"Everyone's going to know," he says, gesturing at his lap.
I shrug. "Wear your coat tied."
"That's your solution?"
"You have a better one?"
He thinks for a second, face scrunched up. "No."
I start the car, cranking the defroster to maximum to clear the fogged windows.
As I'm pulling out of the parking spot, Devon says, "For the record, that was—"
"Amazing?"
"I was going to say 'a good start.'"
I nearly drive into a light pole.
CHAPTER 19
DEVON
