Chapter 25 #2
I leave my phone facedown on my bed and look around in my desk for some paper, needing to keep my hands occupied. I find origami paper in the bottom drawer. It’s faded with time and age, but it’ll do the trick. I start folding, my mouth going dry as I wait for a buzz.
It takes five minutes.
I flip it over and find a message from Clover.
My stomach does a few somersaults and a swan dive, but I’m committed now. I open the message and smile.
Clover: Are you creeping on me?
It’s followed by that gif of Homer Simpson disappearing into the bushes.
I send her back a shifty-eyed gif in response.
Clover: I couldn’t wait any longer. It was taunting me every time I looked in my purse. I love it. It’s beautiful and beyond thoughtful. Thank you.
There’s a pause before the dots appear and then a second message comes in:
Clover: I wish I could have opened it in front of you.
I stare at the message, trying to read between the lines.
But all I can do is hypothesize. I hate being in the dark, not knowing where I stand.
I’ve always made it clear with anyone I was dating that I wasn’t boyfriend material, that I couldn’t do long-term.
The truth is, I was never invested. BJ was right.
I’ve only dated women I wouldn’t get emotionally attached to.
They were fun, and they usually had the same MO I did.
They wanted hot sex and no strings, something temporary so they could keep their focus on what really mattered: their grades and their friends.
I was something to do in their spare time.
For the first time in my entire life, I don’t want to be the afterthought. But I’ve already set the parameters, and I don’t know how to undo that. Except maybe by being honest with her and seeing if things shift and change over time.
Maverick: If your goal was to make me want to read into that statement, mission accomplished.
Another message appears thirty seconds later.
Clover: I miss you.
I stare at those three words, wondering how hard it was for her to type them when I’m thinking the same thing.
Maverick: We match, then. Can I call you?
It takes nearly three minutes for her to respond.
Clover: Please.
I tuck my noise-canceling wireless earbuds into my ears and hit the video chat icon.
A few seconds later, Clover appears on the screen.
She’s sitting on a bed, wearing a pair of shorts and a tank.
She’s definitely not wearing a bra. Her hair is pulled up in a topknot, strands hanging around her face.
One knee is pulled up to her chest, chin resting on it.
“Hi.”
“Hey.” I set my phone in the holder attached to my bedpost so I can recline against my pillow without having to hold the phone. It’s great for watching movies in bed. Among other things.
Her eyes roam over my face, and she takes in my surroundings as she fingers the charm around her neck.
“I miss you too, in case you were wondering,” I tell her. “And I could practically feel your guilt knocking against my screen from that one message. You been up in your head the whole time you’ve been with your family?”
She drops her forehead to her knee, then peeks up at me. “How am I that transparent after one message?”
“It’s not just what you say, Clover. It’s what you don’t say and your actions that give you away.”
“Like opening the gift early,” she supplies.
“It was sort of a tip-off that maybe you were thinking about me the way I’ve been thinking about you.
I know you asked for time to think, but, uh, it’s making me pretty crazy over here, not knowing whether I’m coming or going.
” I swallow my nerves, nab a piece of paper from my nightstand, and start folding it.
“I’m sorry for that. I wish this were . . . less complicated.”
I want to say it’s only complicated because we’re making it that way, but that would be untrue. “You on the fence about New Year’s, then?”
She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, releasing it slowly. “I should be.”
I tuck an arm behind my head. “Does that mean you’re leaning in my favor?”
She lifts the charm and runs it over her lips. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
It’s not a direct answer, but it’s not a no. “Does that mean you’ve been trying to stop thinking about me?”
“I’ve been watching hockey with my dad.”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re not answering my questions.”
“I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s as if when the semester ended, the imaginary wall I tried to create to keep us from doing something we shouldn’t suddenly didn’t have a foundation anymore.
And now that it’s gone, I have permission to want things.
To want you,” she says softly. “And I do. A lot.”
“Can I be honest with you?” I ask.
“Of course.” Her expression reflects nervousness.
“I haven’t tried not to think about you. In fact, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, Clover. Do you want to know what kind of thoughts I’ve been having?”
“I’m pretty sure I can guess.” I love the way her cheeks flush and she bites back a smile.
“You want me to tell you anyway?”
She nods once.
“I doubt it’s much of a surprise that I’ve been thinking a lot about what you’re like in bed.”
She grins and turns her head, eyeing me from the side. “And what am I like in bed?”
“Sweet, just like your last name implies. And sassy, and so fucking sexy. And the way you taste.” I make a low, appreciative sound.
“So fucking good.” I ease a hand down my stomach and grip my erection through my jogging pants.
“And then I start thinking about what it’s like to be inside you, the way you sound, how fucking phenomenal you feel, and I don’t want to stop. ”
She uncrosses her legs, folds the right one over the left, and runs her palm down her shin. “I think about all the same things.”
“But you try not to?” I ask.
“I should. I used to, but I can’t anymore.” She tilts her head to the side. “What are you doing over there?”
“Missing your hands and your mouth and your sweet, sweet . . .” I grin. “Disposition.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “I mean, what are you doing with your hands? And don’t answer my question with a question.”
My smile widens. “Would you believe me if I said I was making cranes?”
“No.”
“You ever had phone sex before?” I circle the crown with my thumb and grin when her cheeks turn pink.
“No, have you?”
“Nope.” I shake my head. “Wanna get off with me?”
Her tongue peeks out. “I don’t have a lot of privacy here.”
“You don’t think you can be quiet?” I taunt.
“I’d like to suck that smirk right off your face.”
“I’d like you to suck something else off.”
She barks out a laugh, then slaps a palm over her mouth. “Give me a second.” She moves out of view of the video, and less than a minute later, she returns and drops a bunch of stuff on the bed, pushing it to the side.
“What’s all that?” I ask.
“Props.” She holds up a small bottle of lube and waves it in front of the camera. She drops it on the comforter and grabs the hem of her tank, lifting it over her head. “Get naked with me.”