26. THE ONE WITH THE IVY LEAGUE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE ONE WITH THE IVY LEAGUE
WestParkerComedy: ONE MILLION FOLLOWERS? Insane. You’re all insane. Hope Yale’s ready to celebrate with me this weekend. How hard can an Ivy League party?
Comment reply: It’s been a week and you’re still ignoring us… ARE YOU AND HEX TOGETHER?
WestParkerComedy comment reply: Yes, we’re together rn actually. Hex is drinking a latte with a triple shot, and I’m worried about her heart.
Comment reply: they’re fucking with us
On top of an added show, the club near Yale offered us a furnished apartment only a few blocks from the theater where we can spread out instead of living on top of each other like we’re used to, and I’ll take any excuse to get a bed bigger than an RV bunk.
After a short two-and-a-half-hour drive from Boston to New Haven, where I got what Joey called my first magic M, she tucked into one of the bedrooms, letting us know she’d be ready in time for sound check.
Enzo sets himself up at the dining room table, answering what I assume are emails about more shows, podcasts, and TV appearances.
Each of the videos Joey has posted to my account have received over two million views each, some across multiple platforms, and the Hex video she posted yesterday is somewhere close to five million on a single app.
Neither of us are used to this type of attention, but Joey’s taking the harder hit—I keep wanting to check on her, but I’m sure I already pushed her boundaries last night.
No need to piss her off on day one of living together.
Kell decides to take a nap, and I can’t sit in silence any longer.
I change and follow the signs in the building to a small gym with fairly decent equipment for its size.
I spend a while stretching, warming my muscles up slowly, focusing on my left leg the longest like I always do. I may have pushed it too hard this week during my runs, making my knee ache when pressing my fingers into the joint line.
I’ll probably need to ice it tonight after the show.
Halfway through an arm workout that requires no use of my legs, when my music is the loudest in my headphones, a brunette in Barbie Pink leggings and a matching sports bra comes in, pausing when she notices me. I give her a polite smile and reach for my water bottle.
She stares in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, adding an exaggerated sway of her hips as she chooses the treadmill closest to me.
I pay her no mind, using the remainder of my short rest to reply to a few texts.
When I look up from my phone less than a minute later, the spot on the floor beside my bench is no longer empty.
In front of the mirrored wall, there’s a yoga mat decorated with snakes and daggers.
My eyes trail up long legs with tattoos I’m still studying like there might be a test. This time, I recognize the snake on her leg—Grim’s in a pointy witch hat, wrapped around a spell book.
Joey’s in her favorite oversized gray crewneck, Harvard embroidered across the chest, and a pair of black spandex shorts I’m only able to tell she’s in when she lifts her arms overhead to stretch. They barely cover her ass, and from my seated position I’m basically eye level with it.
I imagine lowering her down onto my lap, fucking her in front of the mirrors for us to watch. In this fantasy, brunette Barbie’s not here, of course.
Joey catches me staring, her eyes already on me in the mirror while I take my time dragging mine up her body. I slip my headphones to the back of my neck.
She bites her lip to stop herself from grinning at whatever look she sees on my face, switching arms. “I thought you’d be out for a run with how nice the weather is.” Stretching her tricep, Joey holds her elbow with the opposite hand.
“I’m maxed out on miles this week,” I answer, ignoring the vibration of my watch alerting me to start the next set.
Joey moves through a few more similar stretches, focusing on her upper back muscles. I’m sure sitting in front of her computer for long hours creates a lot of tension. Her eyes scan my left knee.
The scars are a lot less noticeable than they once were, fading into a color close to my natural skin tone. Even if they weren’t there physically, disappearing from my body altogether, the ones I’m left with inside my mind will stay with me forever.
“ACL?” Her voice is quiet when she asks, being conscious that we’re not alone.
I nod and throw up two fingers. “Twice.”
She grimaces, switching her focus to stretching her lower body. “Ouch.”
When she drops into a low squat, I reach for the dumbbell at my feet and decide it’s time to focus less on Joey.
Even though I want my eyes—and other things—on her at all points of the day, every moment she’s with me…
Especially if she’s wearing spandex shorts with a little bit of cheek peeking out.
Distraction of the fucking century: Josette Daniels.
Her ass in those shorts should actually be illegal. I’m not sure if she’s been blessed by the gods or something, but that’s an ass people pay money for.
Either to get or to see. And maybe, if luck’s on their side, to touch.
We fall into a comfortable silence, and at some point I’m able to throw my headphones back on and finish the last set of strict overhead presses.
Joey’s doing a light yoga routine, slipping out of her shoes and socks. Is it weird it’s not the first time I’ve noticed she has cute feet? I’m not even a foot kinda guy, but apparently I like everything about Joey, including her cute feet and their mixed metal toe rings.
With how well kept her fingernails are, the fresh pedicure she’s sporting, and the knowledge I have of how smooth her pussy is, it’s clear Joey likes to keep up on body maintenance.
I would have finished my workout within five minutes of her showing up, but adding on a couple extra rounds and reps wasn’t going to kill me. It made the burn worth it when I caught her staring at the veins in my forearms as I flexed my hands and gave my grip a break from the heavy dumbbell.
She averts her gaze the second she gets caught, lowering herself to lie flat on her back and cool down with a breathing exercise.
Using that as my sign to finish up too, I take my headphones off and catch brunette Barbie standing behind me in the mirror. She waves, smiling nervously when I twist to face her.
She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Hi, I’m so sorry. I just… Gosh, this is so silly. I’m not normally nervous like this.” She gestures to me and giggles. “But you’re West Parker.”
“I am,” I say, nodding with the smile I save for fans. It’s not my real one, but it’s as close as I’ve been able to get. Dimples included.
“Me and my friends have tickets to your show tonight. We’re having a party afterwards. You should come.” She holds her hand out, passing me a folded up pink sticky note. Her number is scrawled across it in bubbly handwriting with the name Megan and a heart.
“Thanks, bu—” I watch her face fall, but before I can finish turning her down, a tattooed hand steals the paper from me.
“West Parker at a college party? I dunno, Hotshot. I think that’s something the world deserves to see.
” Joey winks at me, turning to the young college girl who now looks more terrified under her frosty green witch-trying-to-steal-your-soul stare than she had mine.
“I’m assuming this party is at a fraternity?
” Joey asks, raising a brow, because she already knows the answer.
Megan nods, staring at Joey with scared doe eyes.
“Mmm,” Joey hums, popping her hip and throwing a look over her shoulder at me. “We’ll be there.”
“You’re…” This girl must believe Joey’s a real witch with how nervous she is.
“Hex,” Joey finishes for her with a smile I know isn’t real, but it’s a good fake.
She never introduces herself as Jo to people who know her as Hex. I’ve noticed since our first night together in Portland.
“Are you two…” Megan trails off again.
Joey chuckles. “It’s open.”
Is it?
I don’t think it is.
Actually, I know it isn’t. I mean, maybe technically… but I’m not open to exploring anything new right now or adding anyone else into whatever the hell’s going on with us.
Is she?
What’s happening right now?
Megan laughs like she doesn’t know what else to do. “Oh, okay.” Her eyes shoot to mine. “Okay, cool.”
I truly have no idea what to say. Without thinking, I raise my hands and give Megan two thumbs up with a smile I catch in the mirror. A monkey would be able to tell it’s fake.
“You’ll text me then?” she asks, still hopeful.
“I will,” Joey interjects, and I don’t miss the tone she takes. “West’s a busy guy, and between you and I, he’s an awful texter,” she lies with a shrug.
A real smile creeps across my lips. She doesn’t like the idea of me having this girl’s number, and I couldn’t care less about it either.
“Great, well, then… I’ll see you later.” She waves at me, eyes shooting to Joey before she scampers out of the gym, leaving us in silence until a deep chuckle rumbles my chest.
“What?” Joey eyes me suspiciously, crossing her arms and popping her hip.
I stand from the bench, regaining my height on her. She’s not a petite woman, standing taller than average, with curves she works for, but I’m still a 6’2 retired athlete who’s kept himself in near peak shape.
She tips her head back to hold eye contact.
Before I answer, I take a second to scan her face while I’m this close.
She’s not wearing any makeup, showing the splattering of freckles that call the bridge of her nose home.
I wonder how long it would take me to count them all.
“Oh, nothing. You’re just really cute when you’re marking your territory. ”
Her lips make a soft popping noise when she purses them together and scoffs. “I was not marking my territory. I said it’s open.”
I narrow my eyes on her, and she pauses mid-bend on the way to her bag on the floor. “Open? Really? That’s what we’re going with?”