Page 16 of Flash

I furrow my brow, trying to follow the line of thought that led to that joke, but fuck knows Jag’s thoughts usually require a map to sort out. Even then, his brain is basically a terrifying maze with a minotaur guarding the center.

“Last night, you said you were going out to ‘get some air’ and today you’ve been walking around with a dopey look on your face like you stuck your dick in something delicious.” Piston decodes it for me with a smirk.

Busted. I should’ve known better than to think none of them would notice my ‘fresh from a hookup’ glow, but when no one said anything, I figured I was in the clear. There’s no reason to keep it a secret, except for my own ego. They’ve seen me get stupid over too many men who didn’t feel the same way I did. Maybe I can save a tiny shred of my dignity this time by keeping it to myself.

I keep my expression neutral and shrug.

“I think you all have sex on the brain.” I answer without actually confirming or denying anything, then turn my attention to the new text that’s waiting for me.

“Right, I forgot you were the Virgin Mary,” Hero deadpans, and I flip him the middle finger.

“Arrow is right, guys. We really need to stop thinking about our dicks all the time and focus on more important—” Jag bursts out laughing before he even finishes his sentence. “I’m sorry, I can’t even joke about that. Imagine anything more important than sex.” He shakes his head.

Unsurprisingly, the conversation quickly devolves into stories about their most recent sexcapades, and I’m free to check my phone again uninterrupted.

LEWIS: Management appreciates the feedback.

I wait for him to say more, but the text thread stays silent for a minute, then two, the seconds ticking by while I stare at it. Finally, I type out a text myself.

ARROW: So, a couple of daiquiris, huh? Working on a fresh hangover?

LEWIS: Hell no. I lied, I’m not drunk, but I AM drinking. I just figured if I said I was drunk you’d think I was less of an idiot.

LEWIS: Or whatever a much cooler, sexier answer to that question is. Jesus fuck, I swear I’m usually better at this.

I bite back another laugh.

ARROW: I’m not sure I believe you.

LEWIS: Wow. Sir, you have insulted my honor.

ARROW: Are you always so dramatic when you drink? “Insulted your honor”? Will it be pistols at dawn then or is there some other way you intend to set your good name straight?

LEWIS: Dearest Arrow, I am this dramatic regardless of how much alcohol I have imbibed.

ARROW: Good to know.

LEWIS: The only way to prove to you that I am in fact not a complete babbling idiot is probably in person though.

ARROW: Oh?

Is he inviting me over? I glance up at the guys, wondering how quickly I can slip out of here without getting the third degree.

LEWIS: Come over Friday night?

I deflate, but only for a second. It’s not tonight, but it is a plan to get together again.

ARROW: Ok.

I want to say more, but I slip my phone back into my pocket and resolve not to respond to any more messages that might come through until I’m home later. When I look up again, my friends are all grinning at me like assholes.

“Seriously, who is he?” Hero asks, waggling his eyebrows.

“No one. Just a guy. It’s just casual sex.” So much for keeping it to myself. I sigh.

“Casual sex?” Piston echoes, skepticism dripping from his tone.

“Twenty bucks says he’s covertly looking up engagement rings within a month,” Jag says.

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