“That was the problem. And the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if there had been other girls too. Would there continue to be girls? Probably. It doesn’t matter if they’re good or not—some women just want to get with a rock star,” Gracie says with disgust.
“You’ve never been with a rock star before,” I point out. “Until Robin.”
“I never even had sex with him,” she says on a sigh. “We messed around some, but nothing serious. Mostly kissing. He’s the kind of guy who kisses you for approximately two minutes, then presses his hand on your head, trying to force you into a blow job.”
“Ugh.” I shake my head, our gazes meeting just before we burst into laughter.
We’ve both been with those types of guys. Only thinking of their pleasure, never about ours. I swear there’s some sort of contest among the dudes on campus titled, “How Many Blow Jobs Can I Get?” All they can think about are their dicks.
“You spent the night with Tony?” she asks once our laughter has calmed down.
I nod. Smile dreamily.
“You don’t have to say a word. I can tell by the look on your face that you had a good night with him,” she says.
“I did. Oh God.” I slap my hands over my face. “I think I have a crush.”
“Isn’t it a little beyond a crush by now?”
“I don’t know. Is it? I
really didn’t want to do this with him. Well, I did. I always did, but then again, I knew it would be trouble. He’s so sweet and thoughtful.” Sexy, with a talented mouth and sure hands. Even a little rough. Once he got over the initial this is my first-time stage fright, he really got into it, making sure I was satisfied. And I was all for it, letting him use and abuse me.
Not that he literally did either of those things, but anyway.
“So he’s good in bed?” Gracie lifts her brows.
I nod. Blush. Shrug.
“You have nothing to say about his skill set?” She sounds surprised.
I usually have so much to say. I blab all the details after my encounters with guys to Gracie. We like to discuss and dissect. Compare notes.
Right now, though, I want to keep what Tony and I shared last night to myself. It’s mine to savor and think about.
The smile on her face is slow. Sly. “You must really like this guy.”
“No. I don’t know. I just want to keep it casual. That’s been my plan since the beginning.” I have to sit on my hands so I don’t cover my face with them again. Why am I like this? And why is Tony affecting me this way?
I don’t get it.
“You want to know what I’ve been doing this morning?” Gracie asks.
I’m so grateful for her subject change, I could almost weep with relief. “Tell me.”
“Stalking Caleb on social media.” She flips her phone in my direction, so I can see his Instagram profile. “Why am I doing this? Why do I care? Because he’s cute? I cannot deny he’s cute. And muscular. His shoulders are so broad. Did you see how easily he lifted me on those shoulders last night? His head was basically in my crotch, and I was bouncing up and down, screaming over another guy, and he never complained once.”
“Probably has something to do with that ‘his head is in your crotch’ thing,” I say, grabbing her phone so I can scan his photo grid. It’s not much. He literally has ten photos posted and that’s it. Mostly football pics. A graduation photo of him and his friends. I zoom in on it, staring at a fresh-faced Tony wearing a giant smile on his face, clad in a navy blue graduation gown.
He looks so cute, my heart skips a beat.
“Who’s the girl?” Gracie asks, her face directly over my shoulder as we stare at the grad photo. Yep, there’s a girl. There’s a couple of them, but one is standing right next to Caleb, gazing up at him as he smiles for the camera. “She’s adorable. I hate her.”
I tap the photo and she’s tagged. “Her name is Baylee.”
“Why didn’t I check to see if it’s tagged? I’m an idiot,” Gracie groans. “Go to her profile.”
I do exactly that. She’s posted a lot. An endless stream of photos. She was a cheerleader. Cute and bubbly looking.