Unwritten (Woodlands 5) - Page 58
Dude. Get back here. Hollister has something for you.
Adam texts back. Don’t need a girl.
Rudd: It’s not pussy. Better than.
Adam: Tell me tomorrow. Thought we’d get some hotel rooms. Sleep in a real bed.
Rudd: You’re gonna be too excited to sleep.
Adam stares at his phone for a second, then at me. “I don’t think they’re going to stop bugging me. Why don’t we go back, find out what they want to tell me, and then go to the hotel?”
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes again. Davis again.
Srsly grab his ass and drag him back here.
Adam drops his head in sad resignation.
Chapter Seventeen
Adam
Can you die from an erection? I’m currently testing the theory. At the green, we find Bo and Noah studying the chutes and ladders contraption. A young, gangly kid is standing to the side wearing a neon-green polo with the logo “Our sticks work in the dark” in black lettering over his left breast. He’s glaring at the two former Marines. Ah, the precociousness of youth, given that my two roommates could snap his thin neck like a twig.
“I can’t believe you’re going to charge us two hundred bucks for this thing,” Noah grouses, waving his broken putter around.
“Finn could’ve fixed it for five,” Bo adds.
“Well, he’s not here,” says AnnMarie, exchanging an exasperated look with Grace.
I pull my wallet out and hand two hundred-dollar bills to the attendant. “Sorry about that.” To Bo and Noah, who look peeved I’ve paid the guy off, I say, “I need to get back to the bus.”
“That’s a ripoff,” Noah grumbles.
“Gosh, Adam, thanks so much for taking care of that for us. I’m sorry I suck so bad at mini-golf that I broke the putter,” Grace chirps in a spot-on imitation of Noah.
“You’re welcome,” Landry says before I can respond, doing a spot-on imitation of me. “I’m happy to do it and I’m not going to rub it in or be an ass about it.”
The girls dissolve into a fit of giggles.
“Very funny.” Noah slaps Grace on the ass as she climbs into the rear of the Escalade.
“Thanks. I thought it was.”
“Me, too.” Landry joins Grace in the back and they exchange high-fives.
The humor helps to take the edge off. Concentrating on something other than the taste and touch of Landry works, too. But it’s not enough. I’m acutely aware she’s only a couple inches behind me and that if it were just the two of us, we’d still be in the parking lot, only we’d be horizontal and we’d both be wearing substantially fewer clothes.
Next to me, Bo is rambling about how we all need to play real golf. I hate golf, but I throw myself into the conversation because I don’t need my mind wandering back to that patch of fake grass and trees where I kissed Landry until we were both too weak to stand.
It works, because my hard-on subsides by the time we roll into the parking lot where the bus is still stationed. It’s lit up, but it appears the crowd has dispersed.
“Thanks for coming down,” I tell my roommates and their girls.
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Noah says. He gives me a back slap and hug. Bo does the same. The two girls throw themselves into my arms.
“I like her,” Grace whispers. “She’s perfect for you.”
AnnMarie nods. “I agree. Don’t mess this up, hotshot.”
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