Bode, are you okay? You still want me there, don’t you?
Bodie
Yes, I’m here. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t contain the zoomies.
Me
*laughing face emoji* You ran around your apartment in your underwear, didn’t you?
Bodie
Our apartment.
My cheeks hurt thinking of him being as happy as I am right now.
“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone smile so big before. Sorry if I’m interrupting anything.” Recker breaks my concentration on Bodie’s texts.
“Oh, no. You’re okay.”
“Alright. I was just coming to see if you needed me for anything else before I get out of here.” He picks his helmet up off a rack.
“Nah, you’re good to go. Ride safe.”
“Always,” he says with that smirk of his.
I turn back to my phone and see Bodie has responded.
Bodie
Now I’ll never get to sleep.
Me
Go try, babe. I need to finish up here. I love you. See you soon.
Bodie
Goodnight. I love you!
And just like that, for the first time in two months, I can breathe again without feeling like there’s a weight on my chest.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Three Months Later
Bodie
Bryce needs to hurry home. I’m getting colder by the minute. Maybe I should turn the heat up in here, but I don’t want to sweat. Well, maybe he’d like it if I was a little sweaty. He always says he likes the way I smell after practice when I come home to shower. Wait, but then the chocolate might get toohot. Can chocolate get too hot? No, it’s supposed to be melted, right? Geez, I’m so nervous. I hope he likes his birthday present. It’s technically not his birthday until tomorrow, but it’s past midnight, and I’m way too excited about it to wait. Just trying to be patient for him to get home is killing me. Maybe I should—
“Bode, what’s going on?”
Fuck, I didn’t hear him come in. “Hi, babe. Surprise!” My voice is more high-pitched than I mean it to be, but I don’t know if he’s going to like what I made him, and it’s terrifying me. I wave my hands over the counter where I have a cake, a small chocolate fountain, and strawberries laid out. “Happy birthday.” My hands tremble as I walk around the counter to show him his last present.
“Oh my. Where did you get that?” The breathlessness in his tone gives me hope.
“I made it. Do you like it?” I give a little twirl in my white jockstrap that I’ve sewn purple lace into the waistband hanging long enough to cover halfway down my ass cheeks.
“Bodie, I love it.” He steps forward, hands stretched outward to his present.
