“Of course. There’s no way I’m staying here with all the ravenous beasts waiting to spring on me.”
We gather his things, stuff them in his bag but not before signing the “rules”—so ridiculous—and then take off down the stairs and out the doors.
Once outside, he brings me to the side where he reaches into his pocket and hands me his phone. “It’s time I get that number, don’t you think?”
I glance at his phone but don’t take it. “I don’t know. If we’re keeping it casual, we can still just talk through student chat.”
“Over my dead body. Phone number, Ealson. Now.”
I cross my arms over my chest and jut out my hip. “Do you really think you’re going to get what you want by talking to me like that?”
He pulls on the back of his neck, clearly frustrated. “How are we going to do all the oral if I don’t have your phone number?”
“It’s called the element of surprise.” I lift up on my toes and press a quick kiss to his jaw and then pat him on the cheek. “Have fun at study hall.”
“You’re really not going to give me your number?”
I shake my head and start to walk away. “You have to earn that.”
“Uh . . . pretty sure I did over the last few weeks.”
“No, you just earned my affection. My number is an entirely different hurdle.” I twiddle my fingers and then turn toward my dorm, but not before I hear him groan.
I smile to myself the entire way back. Thankfully the fire drill is over, so I hit the shower right away, letting the hot water ease my tense muscles. I spend extra time shaving, making sure I reach every last inch of my body, and then I spend a decent amount of time lotioning. By the time I make my way into my room and check my phone, I have a text message from a strange number.
Brow furrowed, I open it up.
It’s Knox. Have I told you how much I like your friend Dottie? She’s a winner in my book. I’ll catch you later, Ealson. P.S. Can’t wait to play with your nipples. XOXO.
Shaking my head, I clutch my phone to my chest and then let out a low chuckle. I can’t be mad about it, because frankly, I’m happy.
Chapter Sixteen
KNOX
“How’s my baby?”
I scoot down on the leather couch of the locker room and prop my feet up on the coffee table while sports highlights play in the background. We have an hour and a half before practice and since I was already on campus, I decided to chill in the locker room until then.
Carson sits next to me, trolling on his phone and eating grapes, chomping away with no awareness of the sounds he’s making.
Disgusting.
“Hey Mom,” I say into the phone, grabbing Carson’s attention. He glances at me with a knowing smile.
My mom is very well known on the team. Not because she calls me all the time to check in, but because she’s THAT mom at the baseball games. You know, the one who shows up in ALL the college gear one can buy with a cooler, chair, foam finger, and pom-poms. She’s the one who gets the fans in the stands to start cheers and leads the wave. She’s the first to yell at an umpire for a missed call, and she’s the first one to slip orange slices into the dugout when she arrives. Yes, she still hands out orange slices. It was absolutely humiliating my freshman year, but now she’s like an unofficial team mascot.
The players love her.
Coach Disik tolerates her, which is surprising since he barely tolerates anyone.
And the other parents rely on her to check on their sons when they’re unable to make a game.
She’s also the unofficial photographer and even started a social media group for parents of the players so everyone can keep up on what’s going on with the team.
To say she’s involved is an understatement.
“How’s my big guy?” She also still acts like I’m ten, but I let it slide since she’s truly the best mom ever and one of my best friends.
Mama’s boy? Possibly, but guess what? This mama’s boy gets a cooler full of baked treats every time she visits the loft or comes to a game. So, no complaints.
“Good, I’m between classes and practice right now so I’m hanging with Carson in the locker room.”
“Oh, put me on speaker phone, I want to say hi.”
This wouldn’t be the first time. It’s rare I have a conversation with just my mom. Holt or Carson are usually popped into the conversation as well. I switch the phone to speaker and say, “Say hi, Mom.”
“Carson, hi, honey, how are you?”
Carson lights up like he always does when he talks to my mom. He lost his mom when he was young. It’s been him and his dad for most of his life, so he’s taken to my mom very easily.
“Hey Mama G.” It’s what everyone calls her. “I’m doing good, how are you?”
“Oh, I’m great, honey. Painstakingly bedazzling my spring hat. You know I like to make a new one every year.”
“Right on, I love your hats. Your fall one was as epic as usual.”
“Thank you. I spent a good month arranging all those jewels. But come springtime, this little devil will be ready.” She chuckles to herself. “So, are you two being good? Staying out of trouble.”
“Always, Mom,” I answer.
But Carson steps in and says, “Well, I’ve been staying out of trouble, but your son might be dabbling in a little trouble where the heart is concerned.”
Jesus fucking Christ.
I glare at him and mouth, “What the fuck?” just as my mom emits an excited squeal.
“Oh, is that true? Are you seeing someone, Knox?”
I sigh heavily and then punch Carson dead in the arm.
Like I said, I love my mom dearly, but the last thing I need right now is the Texas inquisition from her when I can barely call Emory mine.
“Fuck, man,” he whispers, rubbing where I hit him.
I drag my hand over my face and say, “I might be seeing someone.”
“Might be, or are?”
“It’s complicated,” Carson butts in. “They’re keeping it casual.”
“Oh, Knox.” There’s disappointment in her voice. “I thought I taught you better than that. Please don’t tell me she’s your sex friend.”
“It’s called a fuck buddy, Mom, and no. We’ve barely kissed.”
Well, kissed once. Barely might not be the right term because when we kissed, we fucking kissed, and it was one of the best kisses of my life. Her full lips had no problem running over mine, and her hands seemed to enjoy threading through my hair . . . in front of all the morning diners.
“But you have kissed?” My mom’s voice is far too excited.
“Yes.”
“But he’s been after her for a while, Mama G. Ever since the first day of classes, but she’s been tentative.”
“Why? You don’t have a bad reputation, do you?”
“No,” I answer, hating that Carson is here right now. “She had a really bad breakup before she moved out here. She’s a transfer from California, and she’s hesitant to jump into another relationship. Carson’s right. She’s been reluctant to spend time with me, so it’s been difficult. But this weekend I made some strides, and we’re casually exclusively seeing each other.”