Biting back a low groan, my dick jerks in my hand as I come on my belly in thick spurts.
And then my phone rings. With a rueful chuckle, I reach for whatever’s handy to clean myself up. But there’s nothing, so I take off my shirt and use that as I answer Piper’s call.
“Hey, babe. I was just thinking about you.”
“Oh, yeah? Good things, I hope.”
“Verygood things.” I put as much sex into my voice as I can so there’s no mistaking my meaning.
“Oh.” She sounds a little breathless now, and the grin on my face stretches wider as I ball up my shirt and toss it in my laundry hamper. “Wow. Um, okay. Thanks?”
I puff out a laugh and pull my pants back up. No need to have my dick hanging out right now. “You’re welcome. What are you up to? You busy?”
She hums thoughtfully, and my brows wrinkle together in consternation. That doesn’t sound like a good sign. “Depends on your definition of busy,” she says at last.
Blowing out a breath, I stand with one hand on my hip, letting my head drop back between my shoulders. Why is everything with this chick a battle of wits? And a battle of wills? I just want to fuck and have fun. With her, specifically. Is that really so much to ask?
“I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere and hang out. I’m stuck at home with my sister and my roommate until we leave on Thursday, and I need a break. I was hoping you’d be bored and looking for something to do too, but based on your answer, I’m gonna take that as a no. Call me if you want to hang out. Or don’t. Whichever.”
I really don’t mean for my frustration at everything to leak out at Piper like that. I’m supposed to be all charm and seduction with her. That’s my plan, right? Use her to get under her brother’s skin enough to throw him off his game? Hopefully in practice so that Coach subs me inbeforethe game even starts so our chances of making the playoffs don’t get fucked up. Though if Kilpatrick gets so in his head that he screws up royally in a game and then Coach puts me in and I save the day, I wouldn’t mind that either.
The sound of Piper’s sigh stops me from ending the call immediately. The edges of the phone dig into my hand as I squeeze it, waiting.
“Look, Cal, it’s not …” She makes a sound of frustration that eases some of the tension in my body, and I almost smile. Almost. “It’s not about you, okay? It’s … it’s just not a good night for me to go anywhere.”
“Don’t tell me you’re busy doing homework.” I try, and mostly fail, to put a teasing edge into my voice.
But she chuckles softly anyway. “Would you believe me if I said I am?”
“Actually, I would.” I sink down on the edge of my bed, rubbing my palm down my thigh. “I’m just not sure why you’d decide to do homeworknowwhen you have all week and over the weekend while I’m out of town to do it, and we could have some fun instead.”
“Because I know what your idea offunentails, and we can’t do that here, and you already said your sister and roommate are home. Based on the last encounter I had with her at your house, I’m not sure you really want me there with them either.”
I grunt, because that’s a fair assessment. “We could just, I dunno, go see a movie or something. Wander around downtown and see what bars have good bands playing. Something. Anything. We don’t even have to have sex.” I hate sounding desperate, but the truth is, I am. Desperate to get away, desperate to spend time with her, even if I can’t be inside her.
She lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh, we don’t, do we? What happened to not wanting anything serious?”
I shrug, even though she can’t see me. “Since when is going to a movie or bar hopping anything serious?”
Another noncommittal hum. “Good point, I suppose. And as tempting as that sounds—and believe me, it does—I’m still going to have to pass.” Then, softer. “I’m sorry, Cal. I really am.”
“It’s alright,” I answer, just as softly. Because what else am I supposed to say?
“I’ll call you later,” she promises, but I don’t really believe her.
“Sounds good.”
I stare at my phone in my hand for a stupid amount of time after we hang up, wondering how I got so hung up on a chick—any chick, but especially this one—that I offered to hang out without expecting to get any.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Piper
At nine o’clock on Monday morning, with my mother’s far too cheerful face poking through my bedroom door, I can’t decide if I’m grateful for my past self’s wisdom in turning down Cal’s invitation or regretting that I didn’t have some fun when I had the chance.
“Rise and shine, my little Pipette!” Mom chirps at me.
Groaning, I wave a hand in her direction.
