Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
RAELYNN
I press my back against the door the second it clicks shut, holding my breath like that might quiet the frantic rhythm pounding in my chest. I can still hear him on the other side—his footsteps lingering, pacing maybe, or his fingers dragging through that perfect hair of his as he considers the challenge I just threw down.
I could open this door again. I could hand over my number and end the game. But where’s the fun in that?
No, this is better. He left me needy, teased me just enough to drive me crazy, and now he gets to suffer, too.
My body still aches with it, humming with the ghost of his hands sliding over me, the rough pad of his thumb brushing my cunt through my thin panties, his mouth hot and greedy against mine—before pulling away with that maddening, “Not tonight.”
Fucking asshole. I hope he’s suffering just as badly. Blue balls serve him right. Still, I can’t deny I want him to do the exact same thing I’m about to—finish what he started.
Time is mercifully on my side. I manage to steal just enough of it to take the edge off—one toe-curling orgasm that leaves me trembling and breathless, muttering his name into the dark like a secret.
Then it’s cleanup mode. Fresh panties, a quick rinse of my face, and my oversized Johnny Cash sleep shirt that I stole from an ex years ago and never gave back.
I’ve barely settled when chaos comes storming through the door.
Tessa and Khloe tumble inside, loud as hell, singing the last mangled lines of a pop song I can’t even place.
Their voices are high-pitched and off-key, bouncing off the apartment walls like some kind of drunken siren call.
God only knows how many more drinks they went through after I left.
It doesn’t take long for the noise to simmer into its usual brand of disorder.
After a few attempts to shush them (because, hello, we have fucking neighbors and it was nearly 2 a.m.), Tessa plants a sloppy kiss on my head before retreating to her room, giggling all the way.
Khloe, though, she doesn’t even try. She just collapses face-first on the couch like a human pancake, limbs flung out in every direction, before grabbing the pastel butterfly throw and yanking it over her head like some kind of cocoon.
Within seconds—literally seconds—she’s out. Snoring.
I just stand there staring at her, baffled. What goddess blessed this girl with the ability to knock out cold the second she lies down? It’s like she has a damn built-in switch that says horizontal equals unconscious.
Meanwhile, I have to cycle through at least seven different positions, stack three pillows in some complicated architectural formation, scroll on my phone until my retinas burn, and then bargain with whatever higher power will listen just to maybe fall asleep.
And even then, my brain is a relentless little bastard, whispering things like, “Hey, remember that embarrassing thing you said in third grade? Let’s think about that for the next hour. ”
Khloe? A fire alarm could go off. Max could bark himself hoarse. Hell, the world could end—and she’d snore right through it. A corpse sleeps lighter than her, I swear to god. Honestly, it’s a miracle she makes it anywhere on time.
With a yawn, I retreat to my bedroom, nudging the door shut with my hip until it clicks softly behind me.
My gaze immediately finds Max, already curled into his usual crescent of black fur near the foot of my bed.
His sides rise and fall in a steady rhythm, each breath broken by a little snore that almost keeps pace with Khloe’s distant symphony in the living room.
I roll my eyes, chuckling under my breath, and cross the room. The mattress dips beneath me as I slide under the covers, shifting until the familiar comfort settles into my bones. My body is just starting to relax when my phone dings on the nightstand.
I reach for it lazily, expecting some late-night chatter from one of my book group chats. But the second I see the screen, my stomach does a little flip. No name. Just a bare number I don’t recognize.
My heartbeat quickens, fingers hesitating before I swipe it open.
Made it home safely, mi carino. Sleep well.
The words blaze across the screen, and heat climbs into my cheeks. He actually did it. Emilio found my number. Part of me thought he’d brush off my challenge, leave it hanging in the air like one of those almost-but-not-quite moments. But here it is. Proof.
A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it, giddy and impossible to shake. My thumbs fly over the screen, faster than they probably should at this hour:
ME:
I’m glad to hear that. Good night, Emilio.
I hit send, the message delivering with a satisfying whoosh, then immediately save the number in my contacts. Setting the phone back on the nightstand, I sink deeper into the blankets, my smile lingering even as I close my eyes.
EMILIO:
Good morning. I hope you have a great day Raelynn
I wake up to that message, and it fuels me more than coffee ever could. It’s been years since a good morning text has left me grinning like a fool, cheeks hot, wishing that he was here in person instead of glowing on my phone screen. And yet, here I am—giddy as hell over a few simple words.
We don’t talk much over the weekend. Just a few texts here and there, but I’m okay with that.
Saturday morning, after his first good morning popped up, I asked how he managed to find my number.
His answer? He had another officer, a buddy working graveyard that night, dig it up for him.
Cheater. I told him that too, and he laughed, saying I never gave him any ground rules, that he was only using his “police skills.” I called him a smart ass after that, but I had to give him props.
I wasn’t sure how I expected him to find my number, but I certainly wasn’t thinking he’d phone a friend.
“Are you seriously still staring at that message?” Tessa’s voice cuts through my thoughts, sharp enough that I nearly drop my phone.
I glance up to see her and Khloe making their way across the quad, fingers laced together, heading straight for where I’m perched on the low wall that borders the arboretum.
The weather’s merciful today—low nineties.
Clouds covered most of the pale blue sky, promising rain later.
Despite the humidity combining with the heat, it was bearable enough to sit outside with my lunch.
On rare occasions, I decide that I’d rather indulge in one of the many other options the university has to offer for food instead of going to the Cactus Grill.
Today I chose sushi. Not entirely sure why I decided on it, when Panda Express or even pizza was available for god’s sake, but it’s hitting the spot.
“I can’t help it!” I giggle, plucking a Philly roll from the tray with my fingers (yes, my fingers, because my helpless ass still can’t figure out chopsticks) and popping it into my mouth.
“She’s in looovee,” Khloe singsongs, her voice dripping with her usual mischief, before going into a fit of giggles.
“I am not!” I protest, launching the chopsticks at her like the useless sticks they are. She swats them away midair and throws her head back into a full-bodied laugh when they smack into Tessa instead.
Tessa flinches and nearly spills the cup of water she snagged from one of the pop-up booths down the front of her shirt.
“Hey! Watch it!” she yelps, glaring at Khloe halfheartedly before tossing back what’s left of the cup in one go.
“She started it!” Khloe cackles, pointing square at me. I stuff another roll into my mouth and throw my hands up in mock surrender.
They both laugh as they drop their bags against the wall, the dull thud echoing off the stone. I tug the tray of sushi into my lap just as they plop down on either side of me, their shoulders pressing into mine, the weight of their presence both grounding and comforting.
“You’re not in love, huh?” Tessa teases, her smirk sharp as she leans just far enough to sneak a peek at my screen. Her eyes light up the second she spots Emilio’s name—complete with the stupid little heart I placed beside his contact.
Heat floods my cheeks, searing hot, as I snap the phone against my chest like it’s contraband I’ve been caught smuggling. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit I like him. And maybe our shared kisses stirred up some shit. But that’s it!”
Khloe’s grin spreads, wicked and knowing. “So… when are you seeing him again?”
“Tomorrow,” I blurt out way too fast. “At work.”
She snorts, head shaking in mock disappointment. “No, you dumb hoe. I mean outside of work.”
“Oh.” The word slips out softer, my gaze flicking back to the glowing screen in my hand.
The unanswered question hangs heavy between us—an invisible weight pressing down harder than either of them. We haven’t made plans. I haven’t asked. And I don’t want to look overeager. But still, the thought of him—of us—lingers, curling warm and tempting in the pit of my stomach.
I snag a sushi roll from the tray to distract myself, but Khloe doesn’t let up.
“Well?” she presses, elbowing me just as I lift it to my mouth, nearly knocking the roll clean out of my fingers.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit, dragging the words out with a soft groan. “We haven’t made any plans.”
Tessa’s grin sharpens, wicked as sin. “Well, make some. I think your vibrator deserves a break.”
The sushi in my mouth goes down the wrong pipe, lodging halfway in my throat. I choke, coughing hard enough to send my eyes watering, smacking at my chest with one hand while trying not to die in the middle of the quad.
They lose it instantly. Both of them dissolve into unholy laughter, practically doubled over on either side of me.
Heads whip in our direction—some concerned, most annoyed. But Tessa and Khloe don’t give a single fuck, as always.
“You’re disgusting,” I rasp between coughs, still trying to get my lungs back in order. My face burns hotter than the sidewalk underfoot.
“Disgustingly right,” Tessa fires back without missing a beat, her smirk practically glowing.
Khloe leans in again, her perfume—sugary and bright—cloying at my nose as she pokes me in the ribs.
“C’mon, Rae. Just text him. Ask him to grab coffee, or dinner.
Hell, invite him over for Netflix and ‘accidentally’ end up in his lap.
Worst-case scenario? He says no. Best case?
” She grins, devilish. “You’re not sleeping alone tonight. ”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the small, traitorous smile tugging at my lips. My gaze drops back to my phone, still clenched in my hand like it’s part of me. Emilio’s name glows at the top of my messages, the little heart next to it mocking me.
My thumb hovers just over the keyboard, pulse picking up speed.
My mind runs wild with a thousand possibilities—what I’d say, how he might respond, whether he’d even want to see me outside of work.
It feels ridiculous, this rush of nerves, like I’m sixteen again waiting for a boy to text back after homeroom.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe I should.
The thought lingers, heavy and tempting. My thumb presses just enough to make the keyboard light up—then the sky cracks with the low rumble of thunder.
The sound vibrates through the air, thick and warning. A cool gust sweeps over us, carrying the scent of damp earth and ozone, and I jerk my head up toward the sky. Dark clouds are rolling in fast, smothering what’s left of the pale blue beneath their weight.
“Shit,” Tessa mutters, already reaching for her bag.
Grateful for the interruption, I jam my phone into my pocket and grab the sushi tray. The three of us scramble to our feet, laughter bubbling as fat raindrops splatter against the pavement. Within seconds, the air is split between thunder and our hurried footsteps as we rush for cover.