I just want to be clear about that.
It made sense that Sloan was terrible at this. Her first crush had been her table mate in AP bio. She was ten years old and her mother sat right behind them the whole semester. When Sloan had gotten up the courage to write him a note, he just smiled at her. Later in the week, her mom explained that a boy his age was just too old for her and the next time she walked into AP bio, she had a new table mate. Clearly she learned nothing from that interaction.
“Right. Just end this right now,” she told herself as she started texting him back.
So I did.
I’m going to climb in a hole now
Goodnight to you, sir.
Sloan tossed her phone across the bed, picked up her remote and pressed the rewind button. Poppy was telling the girls about her night in the Lovers’ Suite. Sloan had missed everything she said. They’d moved on to Jack doing a little bragging of his own when Sloan felt her phone vibrate on the bed. She could leave it, check Rafe’s response in the morning and apologize for bothering him, but the whole universe knew she was too weak for all that. Flopping on her back, she reached for her phone and held it above her face.
Not so fast.
What are you doing?
I’m watching that dating
show I mentioned.
How’s that going?
Good. One of the couples just had
grainy black and white sex on screen.
It was thrilling.
Are you settled in okay?
I am. Bed’s comfortable
And the water pressure in the shower is excellent.
Sloan groaned out loud just thinking of a naked Rafe, hot water running over every inch of his body. She knew she should wish him a goodnight—for the third time—and stop with this high school level attempt at flirting via text, but she didn’t want the conversation to end.
I’m having trouble coming up with an emoji.
This is a lot of pressure.
Come down to my room.
Aren’t we supposed to drag this out?
Let the tension drive us to the point
where we can’t stand it anymore
and we just rip each other’s clothes off?
Is that what you want?
“I don’t freaking know,” Sloan said to herself. She moved to the edge of her bed and stared at her phone. Rafe was sweet and kind, and damn sexy. He also wasn’t the kind of asshole who was going to make up her mind for her. She thought about Drew and the girls, and tears stung the back of her eyes. She waited a minute or so, but Rafe didn’t text again. He didn’t push. He’d asked her a question and he was waiting for her to respond.
I want you to make this easy on me, she typed. It was the truth. A layer of truth she didn’t want to get into tonight. She wasn’t ashamed of her lack of experience, but she couldn’t help how it colored the way she practically avoided men since her divorce. How could she tell him that, though? She knew it was impossible for him to read her mind or even to guess what layers she wanted him to chip away at first. That wasn’t going to happen, so she hit send on the text.
Come on down here
