Ending the call, I opted to scroll through all the previousvery specialpictures to deal with my hard-on before getting a jump on a night packed to the gills with studying.
Isla warned me not to study too hard, but I rarely listened to her regarding that. And this last round of mid-terms of my senior year was going to be a beast, so I studied like a mother fucker until all the words on the pages started to blend together.
I ultimately passed out at my desk and woke up the following morning at around 8:15 with paper stuck to my face.
My first exam of the day was in only fifteen minutes, andcue freaking the fuck out.
I leaped out of my chair and paused only long enough to grab a handful of pens and pencils before I darted out of the room and sprinted back across the street to the campus.
It was between my second and third exams that I realized I left my phone in my room, but it—and all of Isla’s delicious,specialpictures—were just going to have to wait.
By the end of the day, I was starving and exhausted, but I was done for the rest of the week, and that meant a mother fuckingnapof epic proportions. At least, it meant a napafterI enjoyed the pictures.
When I finally got back to my room, I checked my phone and saw nothing from Isla, which was uncharacteristic, but not entirely alarming or surprising. It was still early in New York, and she’d gone to a party the night before. She might have been out late the night before and was too tired to pose for provocative selfies when she got home, and she was probably still sleeping. So, I went to sleep, too.
But when I woke up… still nothing from her.
I called her, but it went straight to voicemail, which was also a little weird, but no cause for serious alarm. After all, even with as much as I missed her constantly, I wouldn’t ever have described myself asclingy, and neither would she.
Malachi Sterling: hey baby girl, call me when you get a chance. Love you. xx
I didn’t hear from her for the rest of the day. Her phone kept going to voicemail. I kept leaving messages.
Malachi Sterling: Isla, I’m starting to worry a little. Call me when you can. I love you.
It wasn’t until I woke up on Sunday morning that I received a reply. I squinted through the sleep in my eyes at the message preview on the screen.
Isla Reyes: sorry babe. I got rly rly busy over the weekend but here’s a pic to make it up to u.
I smiled at her use of the wordbabe. She never called mebabe,and the contrast to all theamorsandcariñoswas cute.
Upon opening the message, however, all thecuteof it went up like mother fucking ball of flames.
There was a thread of several messages sent in hasty, rapid-fire succession. And attached to the first one was afilthyfucking photo. But this filthy fucking photo was unlike all the previous ones because it wasn’t a selfie Isla had taken of herself.
Someone else took this photo. And she wasn’t alone in it.
It looked like a screenshot from a fucking porno.
Isla, completely naked, on a bed, withtworandom guys.
One gripping her ass while he fucked her from behind, and one in front of her, fisting her hair while she sucked his cock.
My veins flushed with ice, and my gut bottomed out, and there was no way.
There wasno fucking way.
There was no fucking way that wasmy Isladoingthatwith guys who weren’tme.
There had to be an explanation.
And right below the first message were the rest of the messages, and therein was the explanation.
Isla Reyes: oh shit
Isla Reyes: fuck i didnt mean to send that one
Isla Reyes: i can xplain babe
