Emory: If you’re not kidding right now, I’m going to murder you.
Knox: She also complimented your cup size and wants to know if you sleep with my jockstrap.
Emory: No, I wear it over my head, using it as an eye patch so my parents think I’ve truly lost it.
Knox: Aye, matey.
Emory: Did you really show your mom?
Knox: Nah, your pussy and tits are private, only for me.
Emory: Good answer, which means you get topless FaceTime tonight.
Knox: Jackpot!
Emory: I’m afraid to open this package.
Emory: [Picture]
Emory: You sent me a jockstrap last time, who knows what this could be?
Knox: Good, you got it! The person at the post office confused the shit out of me, and I had no clue what postage I was paying for.
Emory: If I open this, is something going to jump out at me?
Knox: Nah, babe. It’s a good one. No jockstrap. No peanut snakes.
The phone rings in my hand and I answer it immediately, letting the phone open to FaceTime so I get to see my beautiful girlfriend.
“Hey you,” I say, leaning back on my headboard. I just finished a vigorous weightlifting session so my muscles feel like mush. But when Emory looks at the phone, tears streaming down her eyes, I nearly bolt out of bed. “Em, what’s wrong?”
She holds up my shirt I sent her and brings it close to her nose. I was trying to think of something else to send her, something a little more meaningful and then it hit me the other day. I grabbed one of my Brentwood baseball T-shirts, sprayed some cologne on it—because why the hell not—and then packaged it up for my girl with a sleeve of Oreos. You can never have enough of those.
The tension in my shoulders eases as I realize she’s crying happy tears, not sad ones. “You okay?” I ask, just wanting to make sure. When she shakes her head, that tension reappears. “What’s wrong?”
She wipes a tear away, one I wish I could wipe away myself. “I miss you.”
Don’t smile; she won’t appreciate that.
I know she likes me, but I’ve wondered if my feelings for her eclipse what she feels for me. Maybe that’s true, but right now, it almost feels like it’s equal. Hell, her admission makes me want to puff out my chest like a proud goddamn peacock. Understandably, Em was reticent and careful, but now she’s opening up to me.
“I miss you too, Em.”
“Ugh, this is stupid. I shouldn’t be crying.” She wipes under her eyes again and holds my T-shirt close to her. “But this means a lot to me, Knox. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. If I knew I’d get this kind of reaction, I would have sent you a shirt way earlier. Only one and a half more weeks, babe.”
“I know. I’ve been counting down the days. I’ve enjoyed time with family, but spending New Year’s without you is going to suck. My mom’s excited to play games and have appetizers, and all I want to do is be in your arms and make out with you all night.”
“Hell.” I pull on the back of my neck. “That would have been nice. Think I could have gotten some boob action too?”
“Most definitely. I probably would have hand-fed you Oreos too.”
I point at the phone. “Don’t you dare fucking tease me. That’s a fantasy of mine.”
“What is?” She laughs, that beautiful curve of her lips returning.
“You topless, wearing that black G-string, hair curled and falling over your shoulders, a sleeve of Oreos in your hand, waiting to pop one in my mouth.”
“You have really strange fantasies.”
“How is that strange? I think that’s pretty average. If I said I wanted you to wear an alien mask while wielding a sword and putting Oreos in my mouth, now that would be strange.”
“I guess so.” She sighs and leans into her pillow, rolling on her side and propping the phone up. I do the same so it’s as if we’re lying next to each other in bed.
“Do you have any fantasies?” I wiggle my eyebrows.
A sly smile crosses over her face. “Doing it in the locker room.”
“Really?” My nose crinkles and brow furrows. No way. She’s showed her distaste for the locker room ever since I’ve known her. “You’re a liar.”
“I am. Plus, if we did it in there, doesn’t that mean we’d have to be attached at the hip for life?”
“That’s the general rule. Do it in the locker room, get married.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think I can make that kind of commitment. Not when I’m second best to Oreos.”
That makes me laugh. “Sorry, babe, but facts are facts. Oreos will always be my number-one girl.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
EMORY
“I can’t thank you enough,” I say to Dottie while glancing in the mirror one last time. “Seriously, I owe you big time.”
She waves me off. “You owe me nothing. This is what friends are for.”
I flew back to Brentwood a couple days early. I told my parents it’s because my internship required my assistance before the student population came back, but when they both looked at each other with that knowing gleam in their eyes, I knew I was caught. I wanted to see my boyfriend, and I couldn’t wait any longer.
But since I’m flying out early, the dorms aren’t open, meaning Dottie got us a hotel room thanks to her dad. She was more than happy to help when I called her, and we flew back together as well, giving us some girl time.
“Are you finally going to do it?” Dottie asks, rubbing her hands together while sitting cross-legged on the king-sized bed we shared last night.
“No. I mean . . . I don’t think so, unless he cracks and breaks the bet.”
“Ugh.” She flops backward onto the plush, white pillows. “You and that stupid bet. Seriously, get over it.”
“It’s not just about the bet. It’s almost become the craziest form of foreplay. I’ve done things with Knox I’ve never done before. We’ve gotten each other off in ways I didn’t think were possible.”
“Like what?” Dottie asks, doubtful.
My face heats up thinking about the things we did over the phone, the things he said to me in his deep, low voice so his mom didn’t hear. Or what we did before we parted for Christmas break. God, just thinking about how he felt sliding up and down my clit has me shifting in place with a distant ache.
“Just . . . things.”
“Like . . . hand jobs? You’ve done that before.”
“I don’t want to get into detail, Dottie. It’s embarrassing to talk about.” I lean forward and reapply my lip gloss.
“Why, because you two have been at it like two horny teenagers scared to get pregnant?”
“Pretty much.” I pop my lips and then fluff my hair one more time. “Do you think he’ll be excited?”
“Uh, are you kidding me?” She motions to me. “I think the minute he sees you he’s going to come in his pants. Especially after the conversation I overheard last night. He has a dirty mouth.”
“I know.” I smile, feeling incredibly lucky. “Okay, I’m off.”