21. Win
21
Win
You skipped class.
I don’t really blame him for holing up in his apartment— it’s hot as fuck today. Even with the AC on full blast, I’m sweating through my shirt. It doesn’t help that I'm wearing black either. I put the Rover in park and push my hair out of my face as my phone dings.
Remy: Calm down creeper. A friend sent me the slides.
My jaw clenches, thumbs flying over the screen.
What friend? Better not have been Twinkle Tooth.
Who the fuck is Twinkle Tooth? You mean Henry?
I’ll drown him in coffee if he talks to you again.
You’re certifiable.
So it was him?
No, you psycho. And you do realize I’ve been with more women than men, right?
Who is she?
You’re annoying.
That’s not an answer.
I’m gonna turn my phone off if you don’t stop.
Is it this girl? *screenshot*
Are you stalking my IG stories?
Are you fucking her?
No, Win, I am not fucking everyone I hang out with.
Are you with her now?
No.
So you were with her though.
You. Need. Jesus.
No. I. Need. You.
The typing bubbles stop. Then start. Then stop again.
I smirk. He didn’t outright tell me to fuck off, so that’s an improvement. We’ve been texting constantly— well, mainly I text him and he replies, but I’m high as a kite off it either way. Mom was shocked to find me grinning at my phone when she stopped by the guest house to drop off the recording equipment she ordered for me. (I sold all my old stuff for drugs before shit hit the fan.)
“ What’s got you smiling like that?” s he asked.
I considered lying to her but hiding my obsession was pointless. “ Remy.”
I wish I’d taken a picture of her face. I swear her eyes almost fell out of her head. Then she smiled— a real one, not one of those cautious grimaces she’s given me since picking me up from the airport. “ He’s still in town? ” When I nodded, she beamed. “ He’s a sweet boy. It’s wonderful you two are reconnecting.”
We’ll reconnect on every level if I have any say in it.
My phone screen lights up with an incoming message.
I. Need. To. Eat. Are you coming up or not?
I’m incapable of resisting the bait.
Wait, is that code?
… for?
Eating my cum. Because I’ll gladly feed it to you.
I’m not hungry anymore.
Liar. You just don’t want me to see how hard you are at the thought of swallowing my load.
You’re delusional.
Cumming right up.
Oops. Coming*
I hate you.
*Kissy face emoji*
Adjusting my aching dick, I grab the takeout from the passenger seat and jog up the stairs. Just to be obnoxious, I ring his doorbell. His muffled curses make the stupid smile on my face widen.
The door swings in—
Oh. My. Fuck.
I think I just came.
His tousled brown curls are flattened on one side, white tee wrinkled and ridden up to expose a sliver of golden skin. But what makes my cock leak are the thick tortoiseshell frames perched on his nose.
He’s like a sleepy, nerdy puppy and I want to maul him.
Before I have the chance to tackle him to the floor and rail him senseless, Mitz rockets at me, meowing loudly. I set the takeout down and scoop her up.
“Traitor,” Remy hisses at the cat, grabbing the bag and retreating into the apartment. I hesitate with a very content feline in my arms as the door starts closing—
He catches it with a socked foot and arches a brow.
“You just gonna stand there?”
I can’t tell if he’s asking me to hand over his cat and leave or join him.
“Uh…”
He huffs impatiently. “Get in here, you idiot.”
Don’t need to tell me twice. I snap into action, muttering to Mitz, “Those fucking glasses will be the death of me. ”
Remy pauses unloading the food and throws a curious look over his shoulder.
“You say something?”
Mitz squirms free.
I stand there like an empty-headed dipshit, drooling over him rather than the feast he’s laying out. To be honest, I’d prefer him spread out on the counter for me but beggars and choosers and all.
He squints. “Are you having a stroke?”
“Possibly.”
“Right,” he snorts, plucking a taco from the assortment. I panic-ordered the whole menu when he texted me:
Since you clearly don’t think I can cook and will probably show up even if I tell you not to, I’m craving Mexican.
Holding a dripping taco over the box, he takes a bite and his eyelids flutter.
I’ve never been more jealous of a taco in my life.
Then he moans.
I die.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans.
I die again.
His pink tongue darts across his bottom lip, catching the flavor.
Watching someone chow down on tortilla, meat and cheese shouldn’t be this pornographic.
“Hey, stalker boy,” he snaps, wagging half a taco at me, “Quit being a creep and help me with some of this.”
I wipe a hand down my face. “You’re literally murdering me here,” I grumble, taking the space beside him and pressing my hips against the counter to hide my obvious erection.
“Murdering you? ”
I level a deadpan glare at him as I unwrap a burrito.
He has the audacity to flick those gorgeous eyes down me in a curious perusal. I decide to give him a taste of his own medicine, wetting my lips and slowly lowering my mouth to the burrito.
His pupils dilate.
The flat of my tongue meets the tortilla before I bite down.
His lips part.
As I chew, I let out a small moan.
Watching the realization dawn on him makes me grin.
His cheeks flush and he spins away. We continue our meal in charged silence while Mitz diligently inspects the empty takeout containers. Remy stabs a straw through the lid of his drink and sips, tipping his chin to the mess of textbooks and notes on the coffee table.
“Thanks… I gotta get back to it.”
I wipe my mouth, scrambling for any excuse to stay a few more minutes in his presence, but come up empty. Sighing, I gather the garbage and toss it. When I’ve finished cleaning, I turn around to find Remy on the couch with his laptop balanced on one thigh.
It’s impossible to miss the way his gym shorts have ridden up. Or where they bunch at his crotch. Is he commando?
I need a cold shower.
Rubbing my sweaty palms on my jeans, I rock on my heels. “I guess I’ll… go now.”
Can I be any more fucking awkward?
The answer is a resounding no.
He looks up from his computer, puzzled. “You’re leaving?”
“You have to study.”
A blush sneaks up his neck. “I mean, I can study with you here.”
He wants me to stay. In his apartment. With him. While he studies.
Have I entered an alternate dimension?
Probably, but fuck it.
I walk my happy ass to the couch and plop into the opposite corner, pulling out my phone. He bites his lip and resumes while I pretend to be interested in what’s on my screen. In reality, I’m memorizing every detail of him.