Ryan stands up and clears his throat. “Oh, Skylar just got a new album.”
“Ugh, you would have the worst taste in music.”
Okay, The Offspring aren’t my favorite band of all time, but the worst? Come now. Their lyrics are some of the cleverest of the nineties. And considering their lyrics, it’s highly ironic that the song “Self-Esteem” is playing right now. I mean, give it a listen.
Nevertheless, I say nothing and just smile, although I’m thinking quite strongly about breaking from my mom’s advice right now.
Just then, Luke strolls into the room wearing only basketball shorts, with messy bed-head-hair and an I-just-got-a-BJ smirk on his face.
I don’t know why, but Luke has never looked hotter than at this moment. Maybe it’s the way the late morning winter light falls on his body right now, and creates a little shadow to go with his abs.
Jennifer’s surprised expression is perfect, and I won’t lie—I revel a little in it. I watch her eyes drift to Luke’s low-hanging shorts, revealing maybe too much of that delicious V that my tongue was on not long ago. Holy shit! Talk about blatantly checking out another man in front of her fiancé. She’s got such an obvious wandering eye, it’s a shocker to me Ryan can’t see it.
Then again, he’s like a loyal little dog, like Jennifer said to me. He sees what he wants to see in Jennifer.
A weird, palpable tension hangs in the air, until Luke speaks and sucks the energy out of the room. “Hey, Sky. Come back to bed.”
All of the eyes in the room whip to me. Luke saunters over toward me. “What, did you think I was done with you this morning? Not by a long shot.”
“Okay,” I mumble.
Luke kisses me deeply for a few seconds, then takes me by the hand and leads me back to his room.
I catch a glimpse of Jennifer’s glare on me over my shoulder as we walk back to Luke’s bedroom.
I’m no doctor, but I’ve got a diagnosis for Jennifer: she lusts over what she can’t have. And right now, that is Luke.
Luke shuts the door to his room.
“That was quite the show you just put on,” I say.
Suddenly, Luke takes me and presses me up against the wall, making my heart flutter.
“What do you mean show?”
“Operation Romper,” I blurt out between breaths.
“Oh,” he chuckles. “Right. Operation Romper.”
After another kiss, he says, “Or maybe, Sky, I was thinking how unfair today has been. You got to taste me, but I didn’t get to taste you.”
“That’s unfair to you?”
I love the feel of his hard body as he presses me into the wall, kissing my neck. He picks me up by my thighs and I let out a yelp, grinning.
He throws me down on the bed and I see that look in his eyes like he’s a wild tiger, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.
“Let’s just say you’re going to have a lot of orgasms this term.” He pulls my jeans off, then teases me for too long until he finally lands his mouth between my legs.
“Fuck, Sky. Why do I love doing this to you so much?” are his last words as he whisks me away to orgasm land.
My words become inaudible.
I don’t know, Lucas. But I’ll be the beneficiary of your golden tongue, sure.
Operation Romper, Phase 2
The Girlfriend Bomb
13
Luke
Weeks pass and Operation Romper goes smoother than either of us thought. To outsiders, it’s surprising that a girl from Sky’s circle and a jock frat guy like me would get together. Whatever.
I’ve never believed in labels, and everything we do together feels so damn natural.
“Good throwing session this morning.” Coach Hunter slaps me on the back as the team heads into the baseball locker room. “You were really locked in. That’s great to see, especially this early in the season. Keep doing what you’re doing, Luke.”
Coach Hunter splits off and heads to the Coach’s locker room, but I overhear one of my teammates talking and his last phrase saying, “And by what, I think he means who you’re doing. That hipster girl must have the best pussy ever for you to be sticking around with her.”
I clench my fists as I stop in front of my locker, which is unfortunately right next to Brad Cobb’s. He’s a douchebag, and he also happens to think he can compete with me to be our team’s ace pitcher.
I don’t mean to be cocky—well maybe I do—but I was born to play baseball. My hands are stronger, my arms are just a little bit longer, and I throw harder and with better control and more pitches than anyone on the team. All signs point to me being a first round draft pick this June.
It’s always good to have some motivation to get you fired up, though. And Brad’s trash talk is usually cute when it’s directed at me, considering he’s nowhere near my level. Especially for these dreary, early morning workouts in February when we’ve got to pull our asses out of bed at 6 a.m.
It’s also unfortunate that one of the girls he’s seeing happens to be good friends with Jennifer. I suppose it’s nice to be informed that me and Sky’s morning sessions in my bed are making the gossip rounds with Jennifer’s friend group.
But invoking Sky is off-limits. So now it’s time for me to mess with him.
“How’s your girlfriend doing, by the way?” I raz Brad back as I take off my shirt, not giving him the pleasure of acknowledging his dig. “What’s her name again…”
“I don’t have a girlfriend. Everyone knows that.”
I wrap a towel around my waist and scrub my chin like I’m thinking. “Yes, you do. Your housemate was telling me about you hooking up with her. I think her name is Jazmine Jane?”
Jazmine Jane is a porn star, and I know for a fact Brad is a pornaholic. He whacks it so much he could be a professional jacker.
Brad squints for a second before he puts two and two together. A couple of the freshman pitchers who are also in the locker room stare at us, noting the tension.
“Whatever dude, so I watch porn. It’s natural.”
I laugh. “Natural? Yeah, it’s natural to pull up ten different tabs and masturbate to ten women at the same time. You’re delusional. You know what’s natural? Fucking an actual woman who you like, and have a connection with. But hey, if they ever turn whacking it into a profession, you’ll be first in line, am I right? Maybe it will be an Olympic sport some day!”
Since I don’t watch porn, I always like to give the other guys shit.
“Pssh,” is all that Brad manages to say. “You’re such a little bitch, Rutledge.”
“It’s all right man,” I say, patting him on the back patronizingly. “I get it—you have to self-service yourself using the digital world. Not everyone can have a girlfriend as hot as Sky.”
As soon as it comes out, I regret saying the last sentence. It’s unlike me to even say something like that. I’m not an overt bragger. And I just dropped the G-friend bomb. That was completely by accident.
Sky and I haven’t discussed yet when we would move ourselves into the boyfriend-girlfriend phase of Operation Romper.