Page 93 of Mr. Broody

“Who are you texting?” Waylon asks, looking over my shoulder.

The phone fumbles out of my grip and falls down the stairs to the basement, landing at Owen’s feet. Shit. It’s like slow motion as he bends down to pick it up.

“She’s all flushed.” Waylon weaves by me and rushes down the stairs. “Who is she messaging?”

“Henry,” they say at the same time.

“I swear to God, Owen.” I follow Waylon, slipping on the third step but recovering before I fall on my ass.

“So, you’re sexting someone?” Owen lifts the phone. I really hope my password protect is on. “Ew, at your age? Sexting? Come on, sis.”

I reach to grab the phone, but Owen holds it up over his head.

“It’s not like I’m Mom and Reed’s age.” I jump to get the phone, but I can’t reach it because they’re so tall.

The doorbell rings upstairs, and we all stop, wondering who it could be. There’s no way Henry got here that fast.

“Tell me there aren’t dirty pics too,” Waylon says.

“Just give it back.”

Footsteps sound above us, and I hear Mom and Reed talking to someone before the footsteps reach the stairs. I really need that phone back before whoever it is comes down here.

Someone barrels down the stairs, and we turn and see Bodhi standing there.

“Hi, guys,” he says.

Owen glances at me, and I raise my eyebrows.

“Bodzilla.” Owen tosses Bodhi the phone.

“No!” I shout.

Owen and Waylon laugh.

“Don’t let her get it, Bodhi,” Waylon taunts, and they jet off in different directions.

Bodhi drops the phone but picks it up. Surely my password protect has activated by now. He stares at my phone, and holy shit, I can’t imagine if he read one of those texts and asked about vibrators, dildos, and dick.

“Hey, Bodhi,” I say sweetly. “May I have my phone please?”

He looks at Owen then Waylon. Yeah, I’m not getting the phone.

“Throw it to me,” Waylon says, raising his hands.

Bodhi throws it to him. Shit, he does have a good arm because it sails past me to the other side of the couch and into Waylon’s hands.

“Killer throw, Bodzilla,” Owen says.

Bodhi looks as though he just got picked to be line leader at school.

I climb over the couch. “Give it back.”

“There’s something juicy on this. I’m wondering if we should use it as blackmail.” Waylon pretends to be thinking, tapping his lip with his finger.

“Waylon, I swear to God.” I jump on his back, reaching for the phone, but he tosses it to Owen, who runs across the room.

“Boys, give the phone back.”

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