Frustrated, Carson hops off my bed while shaking his head. “You know, you think it’s a joke, but that locker room has powers, mark my words. You’re going to regret this.”
I lift my arm and point to the door. “Go. Now.” I’m so pissed off. What was Carson thinking?
They both exit the room and I slump back into bed.
The only thing I’m going to regret is pursuing Emory Ealson in the first place. I should have left her alone that first day on campus. I should have let her find her own way.
But with the way her innocent and timid eyes looked at me, fuck, I couldn’t have walked away. I wanted to know more about her, and I didn’t relent until I did.
A lot of good that did me.
Now, I’m left with a broken heart, an idiotic plan to get the girl to fall for me again—so not using it—and a stomach full of Oreos that didn’t even taste good going down.
Great, she ruined fucking Oreos for me.
Chapter Thirty
One Month Post Breakup
Emory: Good luck in Texas. Tell your mom I said hi.
Knox: Thanks, we’re at the airport right now. I hate traveling with the team. Everyone stares at us, because we have to wear the same warmup gear.
Emory: You hate people staring at you? That’s hard to believe.
Knox: I’m so shy, can I bury my head in your tits?
Emory: You know there isn’t enough room to accommodate your massively sized head . . . and ego.
Knox: From what I remember—drunk, passed out with tit in my hand—you have enough weight in those tits to handle me.
Emory: No flirting.
Knox: Wow, you consider that flirting? Where the hell was I going wrong telling you instead how beautiful you are? Note to self, talk about Emory’s boob weight.
Emory: Stahhhhhhp.
Knox: If you want to talk about my dick weight, feel free.
Emory: I don’t want to embarrass you.
Knox: Oh, I see what you did there, implying my dick is small. Well, I think you know that’s not the truth.
Emory: Wouldn’t know, never had it in any of my holes.
Knox: I literally just spit my drink all over Carson. Now he’s pulling at my pants, trying to trade. Thanks a lot.
Emory: You’re welcome. Safe flight.
Two Months Post Breakup
Knox: Carson said he saw you in the library today.
Emory: Wow, cool story, bro.
Knox: I wasn’t done typing.
Emory: . . . I’m waiting.
Knox: He said you were talking to some girl who was trying to date me, telling her I have a small, un-weighted penis. What’s that shit about, buddy?
Emory: Was he drunk? Because that never happened.
Knox: Pretty sure it did.
Emory: No, it didn’t. It was in the quad, not the library.
Knox: Why do you have to ruin my jokes? You take things too far.
Emory: Let me guess . . . you’re going to need to cry in my bosom again?
Knox: It’s only fucking fair. I’m so distraught, so please bring your tits to me.
Emory: There’s more to my body than my boobs, Knox.
Knox: What’s that? Sorry, I was staring at a picture of you in a bikini top you posted on social media.
Emory: What did I tell you about flirting?
Knox: Hey, friends flirt. I flirt with Carson constantly. I think we’re one dick pic away from making out on Saturday, which reminds me, are you coming to the party?
Emory: No. Lindsay, Dottie, and I are going to a show in Chicago, courtesy of Dottie’s dad.
Knox: And how come I wasn’t invited?
Emory: Because last time I saw you in person, you “accidentally” kissed me at a party.
Knox: I tripped, thank God your lips were there to catch me.
Emory: You pulled me into a corner and made out with me . . . for an hour.
Knox: Uh, it takes two people to make out, so point that accusatory finger right back at yourself, ma’am. And you were the one who had their hand up my shirt.
Emory: It was a weak moment for me.
Knox: Want to have another one tonight?
Emory: No.
Knox: Come on, like old times, let’s grind it out and hey, if my dick accidentally slides into you, then so be it.
Emory: It’s nice to see how delusional you are.
Knox: Apparently only where you’re concerned.
Five Months Post Breakup
Knox: You left your bra here last night.
Emory: Throw it out. I’m never coming to another party again.
Knox: Why? I had one hell of a time catching up with my friend.
Emory: Because, we can’t do that anymore.
Knox: What? Make out, feel each other up, and then watch you sprint out of my room, leaving me with blue balls? I agree, let’s get naked next time.
Emory: You sucked on my nipples.
Knox: And fuck have I missed those nipples.
Emory: Seriously, no more parties. You’re lethal at those. We are just friends.
Knox: Yeah, well aware. You tell me every time I see you.
Emory: Well, I just want to make sure you remember. It seems like you tend to forget whenever we’re near each other.
Knox: It’s because I’ve never in my life wanted anyone more than I want you.
Emory: Knox . . . please don’t say things like that.
Knox: You can ask me to stop, but I never will. I’ll never stop wanting you.
Six Months Post Breakup
Emory: Are you nervous?
Knox: No, but I wish you were here.
Emory: I flew home early.
Knox: I know, without saying bye.
Emory: Please don’t be mad. I don’t think I could have said bye in person.
Knox: You owed me a proper goodbye, Emory, but instead you snuck away.
Emory: I didn’t sneak away, I . . . hell, I didn’t trust myself. The distance is good.
Knox: The distance is bullshit.
Emory: Knox, don’t. This is a huge day for you, and I want to celebrate it.
Knox: If that’s how you truly feel, you’d be here.
Emory: Don’t start a fight, please.
Knox: What the fuck, Emory? Two weeks ago, you were in my bed, letting me hold you all night and then you just up and leave without even a goddamn goodbye? And then text me out of the blue as if everything is okay? It’s not fucking okay. You’re fucking with my head.
Emory: I’m fucking with your head? You’re the one who keeps tempting me, stroking my arm, leaning in to me to whisper in my ear. I can only be so strong, Knox. This isn’t fucking easy on me either.
Knox: And yet, here we are, acting as “friends.” Great plan.
Emory: Don’t be an asshole. You promised friends first.
Knox: Because I wanted in your pants, not because I wanted to be friends.
One hour later.
Knox: Emory, I didn’t mean that.
Knox: Please, don’t shut me out. I’m sorry. I’m just so goddamn frustrated with this entire situation. I miss you. You didn’t say bye. Fuck, I want you here.
Knox: Answer your phone.
Knox: Em, please . . .
Emory: Congratulations on being drafted. The Bobcats are lucky to have you. Good luck.
Knox: Emory, please answer your goddamn phone.
Knox: Em, please. You promised friends forever.
One Year Post Breakup