Chapter 32
thirty-two
“You rented that room for how much?” Linden yells at me from across his office. Right after Cait left, I hurried the six blocks to my family’s company, Grayson all I can think about is sliding my hands over them. My dick flexes.
She methodically adds items to the board. After she’s done, several photos and quotes of chick stuff form a collage across the surface with sayings like Love, Happiness, and Success.
“What the hell is that?” I crane my neck and scowl.
“A vision board.” She doesn’t even glance over her shoulder, like she knew I was awake and watching her this entire time.
“Oh jeez, you’re one of those?” I drop my head back onto the pillow. I’m not ready to be upright.
“If by saying one of those you mean focused, goal oriented, and driven, then yes.” She strings white fairy lights around the edges of the frame and turns them on. They flicker once and sparkle.
“Yep, you’re one of those.” I roll over to stare at the ceiling, which has a poster on it that says Choose Happy.
“Well, I could call you one of those too.” She faces me with a hand on her hip.
“I’m not the one making wishes on a pinboard.”
“But you are one of those college losers only interested in getting blitzed out of his mind every night.”
I lift myself on both elbows and glare. “If by saying I’m one of those college losers you mean that I’m social, popular, and capable of having fun, then you would be right. But at least I’m not building a shrine to myself,” I say, mocking her sassy tone.
“Is that so?” Her lips twist.
“Do you see me hanging Christmas lights over a pinboard that reads, Beer, Party, and Friends?”
“No, but there’s a fancy pyramid of beer cans in the corner of your room, and at least one monstrous mound of chunky vomit on your bed.”
The visual makes me throw up a little in my mouth, which is how I know she’s telling the truth. I swallow it back but then blanch at the acrid taste. When the hell did I do all that? So much for adulting.
“Is that what that smell is?” I peer toward my room.
“Nah, I shut your bedroom door. That smell is you.” She sniffs the air. “I’d guess a mixture of beer, urine, and dumpster sludge.”
I glance down at myself. I have no shirt, and there’s a large black Sharpie drawing on my chest. I tilt my head, trying to make sense of what it says. “What the—”
She approaches and stands over me, laughing with a hand covering her mouth. “But I guess you’re not the player I thought you were.”
Needing to know what it says, I roll out of bed and stumble toward her bathroom. Standing in front of her mirror, I ignore the fact I’m half-dressed and zero in on what’s been drawn in bold black capital letters across my bare chest.
“Holy shit.” I reach for the nearest towel to cover myself.
“Too late,” she says from the bedroom. “I know your secret now, virgin.”
Who the fuck did this? Steph would never. Did I do this to myself?
Then it dawns on me. I don’t care, or I only care because Cait saw, but she wouldn’t know if it’s true or not.
Instead of playing into the gag, I do the opposite of what she might expect.
I drop the towel, letting it fall to the tile floor, and head for her shower.
I lean in to turn on the faucet. Hot water shoots from the showerhead and steams up the room.
“What the hell are you doing?” Cait calls.
“Don’t come in.”
“It’s my bathroom.” She appears at the door.
She halts in mid-step as I’m dropping trou, giving her the full sun and moon.
It’s pretty spectacular and huge, if I do say so myself, but her eyes widen and her face blushes red hot within a split second.
The color extends to her ears, turning them a glowing shade of hot pink.
When she yelps and retreats with her hands covering her eyes, I laugh.
“I warned you.”