Me:
So what you’re saying is, I should come over and help you procrastinate?
I smirk, imagining her sitting at her desk, probably with a cup of coffee or something. She’s so driven, but I know she doesn’t mind putting things off for the right distraction. I could be that distraction.
Isabella:
Did you forget I have a roommate?
I groan out loud, dragging a hand down my face as I head into my bedroom, and throw on a t-shirt and some shorts.
Fuck, I knew it was a long shot, but… I just want to see her. But since she lives with a roommate, that isn’t an option. Not to mention I’m surrounded by guys—Logan, Austin… and her brother. It’s like the universe conspired to keep me and Isabella in a constant state of sexual frustration.
Less time alone. Less touching. Less of her.
More of me slowly losing my damn mind.
Me:
You’re killing me, Curls.
Isabella:
You’ll survive.
Will I, though? Because I swear, if I don’t see her soon, I might actually lose it. Every time she texts me, I want more. Every time I hear her voice, I miss her harder. It’s becoming a serious problem I don’t know how to deal with.
Me:
I don’t think I will. Need you.
There’s a pause. Long enough to make me question if I came on too strong. But then?—
Isabella:
Yeah?
My mouth curves into a slow, crooked grin as I type out a reply, my fingers moving fast.
Me:
So fucking bad.
Isabella:
Me too.
Fuck. My heart kicks like I just hit the winning shot in overtime. I stare at those words, that little admission, and my pulse takes off.
She needs me too.
Me:
Come over then. My place.
I don’t expect her to actually say yes—but I send it anyway, hoping.
Isabella:
