Page 15 of Racing Hearts

Asshole: Fine. Now delete my number.

Evan: Why would I do that? You’re so much fun to wind up ;)

He doesn’t reply, and I frown, wondering what he’s doing. Is he thinking of me? Thinking of our kiss?

I need to know, and there’s only one way to get Alek Anders to react to me, and that’s pissing him off.

Evan: What are you wearing?

Asshole: None of your fucking business, rich boy. Seriously, delete my number.

Evan: I think you wanted me to have it. Why else would you ask for it then text me when you could have just confronted me when you saw me again?

Asshole: I don’t plan to see you again.

Evan: Liar. I’m betting you sleep naked, right?

He doesn’t reply, and I lean back, snapping a quick picture before sending it.

Asshole: Are those ducks on your pajama shirt?

Asshole: Forget I asked.

I can’t contain my smile, and I bite my lip, ignoring my thumping heart.

Evan: Yes. Prefer it off?

I pull my shirt down and unbutton it a little, snapping a picture and sending it.

There’s a pause, and I wonder if I went too far.

Asshole: Stop sending me pictures. You’re making me feel sick. I’m blocking your number.

Shit, he would too, and for some reason, I don’t want him to.

Evan: What if something is wrong with Alice and I need to get a hold of you?

It’s a low, dirty move, but I don’t care.

Asshole: Fine, but only use this in case of emergencies.

Evan: What consists of an emergency? What if I need someone to hit me and then kiss me? Or what if I need a getaway driver?

Asshole: I’m blocking you.

I can’t help but laugh as I bury my head in my duvet before I lift my head and try to act cool.

Evan: Fine, I’ll stop.

It is quiet then, and I can’t resist.

Evan: Night, Anders, dream of me and my ducks.

ALEK

I reread the text over and over, leaning back in my bed, my comforter pooled at my waist. Frowning, I go to block the number and then hesitate. If I do and something goes wrong with Alice, I would never forgive myself.

Instead, I reread his texts before opening the second picture. His head is tilted so his hair falls over one eye, and his shirt is half unbuttoned, displaying the stacked muscles on his chest. I find myself staring. I go to hit delete, but for some fucking reason, I save it.

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