He pulls his phone out of his pocket, accepts it, and then I watch as his face tells me everything. His jaw drops, eyes bulge, cheeks pink. Those warm eyes, mostly black right now, dart between the phone in his hand and the chest in front of him while he bites his lower lip.
“God fucking damn, babe.” His eyes close, like he’s in pain. “Unreal doesn’t begin to cover it.” His hand falls to his pants, where he readjusts himself, and then he opens his eyes again, jerking his thumb toward the door. “I’m, uh, I’m gonna go before I blow our agreement to hell, start begging you to say you’re ready for more, and totally ruin this moment. But let me just say,” his hand comes up to cup my cheek. “This gift is going to get alotof use tonight.” He winks at me, and my cheeks flush. “Best. Birthday. Ever.”
TWENTY-THREE
ELLIE
We’ve added a new rule.
It was already an unspoken one, but we’ve made it ironclad now.
Keep this thing between us quiet for now, at all costs.
That included a fun little plotting sesh where we came up with names for one another in our phones that, should anyone see our phones light up, or a nosy roommate be over our shoulder at the wrong moment, the name wouldn’t give it away.
You guessed it, it’s already been necessary. For me? Very few times anyone is going to see my phone during the workday, and never outside of it. But for him? His friends (especially his best friend-slash-roommate) are a freaking handful. Guess he burst into Asher’s room a few days ago while we were texting and gave him so much shit when Asher wouldn’t give anything up. Stole his phone, punched him in the balls, the whole nine. Asher still thinks Mark didn’t believe him that he was texting his brothers. Thinks he caught him with his hand in his pants.
Anyway, so on the name, I went with Spam Likely for him. You know, what your phone says when it’s an unknown number that’s kinda sketch?
He hasn’t shown me what he put me in as just yet.
We’ve been extra careful all week. He hasn’t come over since his birthday, which has been brutal now that I’ve decided I’m ready to move forward with him (which I haven’t gotten to tell him yet), but I’m trying to be patient. Not fuck this up by getting sloppy and impatient before we’ve even had the chance to begin.
I think he’ll be coming over tonight as long as he can get rid of the peanut gallery, throw them off his scent. That’s what he told me just after lunch today, when he sat down at his desk in my office to start our afternoon together.
Texting with him nightly has been…the highlight of my day, honestly. But after all those nights we spent cozied up together on the couch, flirting, laughing, telling stories to one another…it’s not cutting it anymore. I misshim. His presence. His energy. That vibe that no one else but him gives off.
So when my phone goes off, a bit after five (aka right after Asher’s left for the day), I jump up from my desk, where I was pretending to still get work done, and eagerly check the update from him.
Spam Likely
We’ve been hanging out at your place for weeks
Me
…
Is that a bad thing?
Def not [wink emoji]
But I think it’s time you came over here
Saw my place
Get to know each other over here for a change
That seems risky.
Can’t I keep getting to know you over here?
What if I told you my roommate is gonna be out tonight?
And that there will be zero risk
And did I mention my building has a rooftop pool?
What time?
