Seeing more of you would be a good thing.
If I had more game, as Noel calls it, I'd come up with a flirty way of turning that into a request for a spicy selfie.But alas, this old dog has no game.
She doesn't reply right away, which isn't unusual—we're both busy, so we're each aware that if a text goes unanswered, it's just a fact of the busyness of life so we never take it personally.I pass the time waiting for my carryout at Conrad's by chatting with Conrad and the occasional glance at the regional news on the TV.
My phone dings with incoming text right as Conrad hands me the paper bag containing my order.I wait until I'm in my truck to check it—it's from Morgan.
She's sent me a photo of herself.In it, she's in the bathroom facing away from the mirror, taking a selfie with her top pulled up and her leggings pushed down, so I can see her plump, tight assandher firm little boobs.
I save the photo to my hidden folder and then delete it from the thread so there's no chance of it being accidentally seen by anyone.I'm not sure how that would happen, but I respect her privacy too much to let it even be a risk.I was one of the last guys out of the locker room earlier, and took a quick full-length selfie of myself after rinsing off…facing away from the mirror as well, ironically enough, so my front is only in frame from the waist up; I wasn't about to get myself hard for a selfie in a locker room when anyone could pop back in for a forgotten item.I send it back to her using the "invisible ink" thing so she can reveal it or not, in case Mallory is around when the message comes in.
It still feels a little weird, text-flirting and sending explicit photos.That kind of thing was never part of my relationship with Taylor—we were plenty sexual, but since we were married before the advent of cell phones, we never got in the habit of that kind of thing.We saved the spiciness for the bedroom.It worked for us.I'd come home from a 24-on and Taylor would be waiting for me, naked and in bed.Often asleep, too, but with long-standing open-ended instructions to wake her up for sexy time, no matter what.
Everything is different with Morgan.We flirt over text—silly and funny, sweet and romantic, sexy and spicy and explicit.She sends me nudes, and I send them back.God, I feltsoawkward and ridiculous, the first time she asked me to send one to her.And for the record, I didn't ask her for the first one—I found it on my phone, taken from the lock screen at some point when I wasn't looking.The make-out session after the skate earlier this week had left me hard as a rock.We had stopped ourselves before we got too carried away, and Morgan realized she'd forgotten her purse in the locker room in her haste to get her mouth on mine and ran in to get it, leaving her phone in the car with me.So I snapped a quick shot of myself with my jeans undone and pulled down and my shirt lifted, leaving nothing to the imagination.I almost deleted it, but didn't.I was certain she was going to send me a disgusted message when she found it.Shedidtext me about it, but it was a drooling emoji and a heart-eyes emoji, which I took to mean she didn’t mind it.
I park in the driveway and ring the doorbell; Mallory answers, wearing a pair of flannel pants, a Skyhawks jersey with Noel's name and number on the back and a blue TFPD beanie, which clashes magnificently with the Skyhawks' black-and-gold color themeandthe red-green-and-gray of her pants.I eye her with an arched eyebrow."Hey, Mallory.You're looking…comfortable."
She rolls her eyes as she lets me in."What, you want me to wear jeans around the house like asavage?"
I shrug."Heaven forbid."I nudge her with my elbow as I follow her to the kitchen."How's the hockey debate coming with your mom?"
She shakes her head."On ice for the minute."
I snicker."Good one, Mal."
She frowns, then splutters a laugh."Ohmigod, that wassonot an intentional pun, but I wish it had been.I just know Mom, and she needs time to think."She glances at me with a sly smirk."Plus, she's been otherwise…preoccupied…lately."
"Mallory, I—"
She pulls me to a stop next to the stairs."It's okay, Coach.Mom and I talked about this.I like you, and I like youforher.God knows she deserves happiness, and it seems like you give her that, so I approve.Just…please,pleasedon't hurt her, okay?"
"I'd rather cut off my own hand."
"Well, don't do that."
"I just mean—"
"I know what you meant, Coach.My only request is that I don't ever see anything I shouldn't, yeah?"She pats my shoulder with a condescension that makes me laugh before she even speaks."And for god's sake, wrap it up."
"MALLORY MORGAN WHEELER!"Morgan yells from the kitchen."GET IN HERERIGHT NOW!"
I widen my eyes at her."Busted."
"Fuck."She claps her hand over her mouth."Don't tell her I said that.She still says 'language' when I swear like she's Captain America."
I wait a minute or so, trying not to overhear Morgan chewing out Mallory in an intense and louder-than-she-realizes whisper.I enter the kitchen, rummaging through the bags with unnecessary noise, disrupting the chewing-out."OKAY!"I say, again louder-than-necessary."We’ve got a double bacon cheeseburger with lettuce and tomatoes, no onions, for Mal.We've got a sunrise burger with eggs and hash browns for me, and a turkey burger with Gouda and avocado for Morgan."
Mal frowns at her mother."Turkey, Mother?Really?Can't you live a little?"
Morgan takes the clamshell from me while sticking her tongue out at her daughter."I happen toliketurkey burgers,Mallory.Besides, not all of us have the metabolism of an eighteen-year-old.If I eat a bacon double cheeseburger, I'll gain five pounds right to the ass."
"Not seeing the downside to that, personally," I mutter to her as I pass behind her.
"Oh god, damn this bat-like hearing," Mallory grumbles."Do I need to put in my earbuds?"
I hold up a hand, palm out."No, no, I'll behave.I'm sorry."
Morgan gives me a long sideways look, and I can't quite read her expression.Equal parts flattered, confused, and amused, maybe.
