“Accurate, but you left out that I look hot as hell in this middle seat,” he teased.
“You look half dead.”
“Half dead and hot still works.”
I rolled my eyes and typed:
He says he looks hot as hell but that’s a lie because he’s drooling all over me
“I’m not drooling on you.” Dylan scoffed.
I chuckled slightly. “You were close.”
“Whatever.”
Faye’s reply popped up:
Send a pic
Dylan perked up. “Selfie time.”
“We look rough.”
He dragged his fingers through his hair, trying to fix the mess. “We look good.”
He leaned in so our arms touched along the armrest. I flipped the camera, lifted the phone, and snapped a shot of both of us jammed into the frame while he flashed a lazy peace sign.
I dropped the picture into the chat and watched the screen.
Faye: Excuse me. When did you both get hotter and why wasn’t I notified?
Dylan let out a low whistle. “We’ve still got it.”
The three of us hadn’t seen each other in over a year, except for pics in text or on The Loop, but I still loved hearing that she thought we were hotter.
I chuckled and replied:
Rookie camp did its job. A lot of running and sweating
Faye: I’d say so
Dylan: What are you up to?
Faye: Just got done with wedding stuff, and now I’m hiding in my room, pretending to practice my poem.
I pictured Faye on her huge bed at the Cape estate, her blonde hair a little messy, phone in hand, bare legs stretched out, and my dick stiffened slightly.
Dylan nudged my leg with his knee. “I wonder what her dress will look like.”
“You just want to know how fast you can get her out of it.”
He smirked. “Exactly.”
Dylan: What are you wearing tomorrow?
He wants details so he knows how much trouble we’re in
The dots bounced for a few seconds.
