“I was going to ask about fidelity.”

“Why? I already told you I’ve never cheated. Fidelity was never a problem for me like it was for her.”

“Can you clarify that?”

“She said she was left alone too much and I wasn’t giving her enough attention.” The words come out slightly bitter, and in reply, no sound comes out of my mouth but for a short intake of breath.

“Do you mean she cheated on you?”

He grunts, running his fingers through my hair. “I got over it.”

“But you haven’t had a girlfriend since.”

“No.”

“So you’re not emotionally scarred or anything?” I blurt out.

He laughs. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

“I’m just wondering if you were traumatized by it.”

He rolls his brilliant green eyes at me. “I was eighteen, Scarlett. Nothing traumatized me back then. My shit didn’t stink.”

“Whatever you say.” I’m not convinced.

He sighs. “I didn’t lie in bed crying about it, if that’s what you’re thinking happened.”

Yeah, that’s a little bit what I was thinking. “I want to have sex with you—I do—just not against a wall.”

“Bite your tongue.” He bends at the knees, brushing my hair back and flicking his tongue along my lobe. Exhales into my ear. “I would never fuck anyone against a wall. Have you ever tried it? Stupid dangerous and way too much work on my end not to drop you.” He laughs into my hair. “Not worth it.”

“Shut up.” I laugh, wanting to smack him arm. “I’m being serious. I’m not a hook-up kind of girl, and you already know I’m kind of a pain in the ass—ask any one of your friends.”

“I’m not telling my friends shit.” After a few heartbeats, he adds, “It’s no one’s business but ours.”

I believe him, holding my breath when his palm roams up the smooth front of my top. Kneads my breast through the thin fabric.

“Scarlett?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to miss these boobs tonight when I get home.”

Whether he palms one for good measure or to torture us both, I’ll never know.

***

Rowdy: I can’t sleep, can you?

Scarlett: No. I tried sleeping then finally started playing around on my phone. Watching for you to message me, lol, how lame am I?

Rowdy: Not as lame as me doing the same thing. I gave up waiting—you’re a real stubborn PITA sometimes, Ripley

Rowdy: I should have just spent the night. My dick would be tucked nicely into your ass crack. Was that TMI? Too soon?

Scarlett: lol, I’m not sure that would have helped. And do you really think we’re at that point? Sleepovers?

Rowdy: We’re friends, which is more than most people have when they start dating.

Scarlett: Dating… Is that what you want?

Rowdy: I told you I was playing the long game, remember?

Scarlett: I didn’t forget, I guess I just didn’t realize that’s what you wanted.

Rowdy: Isn’t what EVERY girl wants?

Scarlett: I only want what you’re willing to give me.

Rowdy: Scarlett, it’s two o’clock in the morning; I’m way too tired to get philosophical.

Scarlett: Let’s talk about how you failed to nail me last night. What would we call that in baseball? A strike out?

Rowdy: JESUS you’re fucking savage.

Scarlett: I’m so sorry, I couldn’t pass that up. I thought I was flirting??

Rowdy: You could have taken a nice long pass on that joke.

Scarlett: Sorry I’m being a brat, especially when you’re being so sweet, but I’ve been dying to use the phrase “nail me” in a sentence.

Rowdy: If I wanted to be abused, I’d go to the gym and let the physical therapist work out the knots in my shoulders.

Scarlett: **takes mental picture of your body with no shirt on**

Rowdy: Next time you won’t need a mental picture. All you have to do is ask, and I don’t even care what tone you use.

Scarlett: I’m pretty good with my hands, maybe I’ll give you a rub down one of these days.

Rowdy: Don’t ever say rubdown because now a massage is the last thing on my mind. All I can think about is an actual rubdown.

Scarlett: You’re just…

Rowdy: Horny?

Scarlett: Do you suppose there’s a better word than that? Horny sounds so gross.

Rowdy: It sounds better than me saying I’m having lascivious thoughts about you.

Scarlett: Did you just google that word?

Rowdy: Yeah, the list of synonyms is terrible. None of them are dirty enough.

Scarlett: You’re right, they’re not. Weird, right?

Scarlett: When do you start spring training for baseball—like, what day?

Rowdy: January…twentieth or something I think, I’m not exactly sure, I’ll have to look at the schedule. I actually come back before break is officially over, we start a few days before class resumes.

Scarlett: How did I not know this?

Rowdy: I was hoping you’d make a better WAG than this.

Scarlett: A what?

Rowdy: lol, look it up.

Scarlett: When are you done with exams?

Rowdy: The 12th but I have a bunch of shit to do at the field house before I leave; already have my plane ticket for December though.

Scarlett: Pause. Can we focus on the fact that you keep using semicolons in your text messages?

Rowdy: Is it turning you on?

Scarlett: Proper use of grammar always turns me on.

Rowdy: I’ll remember that. You want me to email you my calendar?

Scarlett: Uh, sure? If you want?

Rowdy: I want.

Rowdy: What are you doing next weekend? I thought maybe we could hang out or something.

Scarlett: Going home for the first time in months.

Rowdy: Oh.

Scarlett: What about you?

Rowdy: I don’t have any plans.

Scarlett: I’d bring you home with me, but my parents don’t know you and I think my dad would have a fit. Plus my mom has this project she needs help with for my dad…

Rowdy: I need help with a few projects, lol **eggplant and water emoji**

Scarlett: You’re **such** a pervert!

Rowdy: Are you complaining? Should I dial it down a notch or 12?

Scarlett: No **bites down on lower lip**

Rowdy: So there’s no chance you’re going to be here this weekend? I was hoping we could go to dinner or something.

Scarlett: Like a date?

Rowdy: Yeah, like a date.

Scarlett: Well now I feel terrible—I wish I could.

Scarlett: Are you disappointed?

Rowdy: Little bit, but I can text you all weekend, yeah?

Scarlett: I’m sorry, did you say texting or sexting?

Rowdy: You had me at sexting—now I’m kind of glad you’re going to be gone.

Scarlett: Gee, thanks.

SIXTH FRIDAY

“The Friday Scarlett is Home and I’m Bored Out of my Fucking Skull and Spend it Eating Takeout at the Kitchen Sink.”

Rowdy

I miss her.

Have I mentioned it’s only a three-day weekend? And I should grow a pair of balls and not be such a pussy? I’ve been metaphorically watching out the window for Scarlett to return to school, checking my phone constantly for her messages.

They come sparingly, her parents monopolizing her time.

Shit.

If it’s this bad now, what’s it going to be like for winter break when we’re home for an entire month and I’m a thousand miles away? It’s not a simple car ride; I have to take a plane home, which means I’m stuck there, with only my parents for company.

I punch my pillow and check my phone again.

Midnight.

She’s definitely asleep by now.

My thumb hovers over the messenger app.

I hesitate to tap it but it’s so fucking tempting. Scarlett sleeps with her sound on, and if I send her a message, she’ll wake up and we can…

Ugh. Fuck.

I flop back down against my pillows and groan, reaching into my boxers, running my fingers along the hardening cock resting against my thigh.

Thirty-six more hours to go.

A MONDAY

“The Monday After She Leaves for the Weekend.”