Sleep well. I’ll be dreaming of you xxx
Staring at the texts in confusion, clutching my soft dick, the happiness in my heart faltered as I became fixed on the words “I love you.”
I was completely thrown off. I thought we were just messing around.
I’d had men go from hitting on me to telling me they loved me within the space of a week, especially virgins. They were so hyped up on the joy of sex that they didn’t know the difference between love andlust.
But there was no way Harry was going from sexting into telling me he loved me. Hell, I was surprised he let me take it this far, considering he’d only told me about the engagement a week ago.
Also, ‘get back’?
I scrolled back through our texts to find out what the fuck was going on. Because, apart from that moment in the bar, there was nothing between us that screamed, ‘I love you more than a friend’. Well, apart from his blushing, but that was standard.
As I scrolled through our old conversations, I saw something was wrong.
Deeply wrong.
Can you pick up some milk?
Why don’t we just get Indian then?
I’m going to be late. One of the paediatric nurses was off sick and I need to do extra rounds.
It was the same lock screen, the same setting with texts flashing up there. I'd ignored how the phone felt different in my hand when I first picked it up, though the case was the same dark grey.
I trembled as I went back to the memory of sitting next to Molly in the pub.
Clicking on the contacts, I tried to open the phone, and that’s when the number pad flashed up.
I typed my password three times before it told me I had one more chance.
My stomach sank, the weight dragging me down as I stared at the phone in my hand.
Molly and I had shared our passwords years ago in case we were too drunk to call a cab. We liked a good time, and sometimes we were both too plastered to phone, but it usually worked out. I pulled my hand from my cock, shivers running over my skin.
I closed my eyes, praying it was just a coincidence, even though the evidence was clear.
Typing in her four-digit code, the phone unlocked, revealing a picture of Molly and Harry smiling at the camera, a grouchy Mr Snuggles wedged between them.
I groaned as the truth hit me straight in the chest.
Oh, I’d royally fucked up.
I’d fucked up so, so badly.
I blew out a breath, my cheeks expanding, my eyes wide with shock.
What the fuck was I supposed to do?
Sparks still raced through me, but my excitement over reaching Harry through sexts numbed, replaced with an empty annoyance at myself.
I just wanted relief from Sally’s bullshit, and I was getting off with Harry to forget her, not pulling him into a fucking cesspit of crap.
“Dammit,” I tutted to myself, tingles still flying over my skin as I clenched my fingers around the phone.
Maybe I was destined to screw up everything in my life. No matter how hard I tried. I couldn’t seem to escape this cycle of chaos I'd inherited. Harry kept me strong, but I’d fucked that up, too.
It was just one time. It didn’t mean anything. I could just brush it off as a drunken mistake, never to be repeated, just like in uni. I’d give him the phone back, have a few awkward laughs about it and do everything I could to make sure it was okay, like I did every time I was a massive arse and he forgave me.
