Roxy: I hope they had wild sex all night.
Gray: Roxy, that’s none of our business.
Al: Well, I hope they are happy together.
Margie: Oh, me too. Such a perfect couple.
Cam: I want details. Jocelyn better spill.
Cornelia: Oh, to be young.
Roxy: I want details, too. Like all the details.
Bray: Ladies, maybe let them just try this thing out before everyone jumps down their throats.
Cam: Oh, I bet there was something jumping down a throat.
Roxy: (laughing emoji)
Fletcher: (Face-slapping emoji)
Carly: Uh, guys, Hutch is on this group text.
Kasen: Earth to Hutch! We need to know what happened.
Cam: Yes, we are dying over here. And Jocelyn’s on this group text too.
Roxy: (skull emoji)
Jocelyn stirs, and I set my phone back down. My other hand is still absentmindedly stroking her back.
She raises her head and stares at me for a moment. I hold my breath, hoping this isn’t going to be awkward.
“Is your monster Viking dick always at full staff every morning?” she asks, wriggling against me.
I groan from the fiction. “It is when there’s a super-sexy woman sleeping on it,” I reply through gritted teeth.
She giggles. “You’re funny,” she says, and before I can stop her, she gets up and holds out her hand. “Come on. It’s our last full day. What are we doing?”
I sit up and reach for her hand, pulling her back down across my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck, and I kiss her jaw, then her cheek, and finally her lips.
“I was thinking, we could stay right here,” I declare as I pull back and run a hand through her mess of wavy locks.
“I think we should go to the beach. We don’t get to be here for much longer. Plus, remember, I invited my family over,” she says. She had mentioned this to me at some point last night.
“We’ll have to make something good for lunch. You want to ask them if there’s anything they don’t eat?” I suggest.
She smiles and fumbles around as she looks for her phone. I locate it first and hand it to her. She texts her grandmother and aunt.
“No, food issues. And my cousins can come too. I guess they have a half-day at school,” she says, her smiling widening.
“What should we do till then?” I ask, my thumb stroking her thigh, where I grip her tightly against me.
She looks up at the ceiling and purses her lips. “Huh, not sure. We could play mermaids with Ava?” she teases.
I narrow my eyes. “Think again,” I mumble like a petulant child, even though I know she’s joking.
“We could play football player and cheerleader,” she jokes.
