Page 83 of Frat House Fling

“What?”

“There was also the cookbook?”

“Really?” I gasped. “I thought that was supposed to be an insult about my abilities!”

He laughed and patted my thigh as we drove back.

I almost didn’t want to part company with Ian when we reached the house, but we both had things to do. In an hour or two, I’d have to start dinner, so I headed up to my room to do a little studying before then.

I’d barely settled at my desk when I got a message on my phone.

Hey sweetheart. How are you doing?

It was Night Owl? We hadn’t chatted in a few days, so I was definitely surprised.

It seems strange, hearing from you during the day. What happened to being nocturnal?I typed back.

What can I say, I miss you. I keep thinking about you. Do you think about me?

Sure, I typed, but I frowned. Night Owl seemed a bit more charming after midnight than he was in the middle of the day.

Do you think about me when you touch yourself at night?

I stared at the screen, having to reread to make sure I’d seen it right. He hadn’t mentioned that erotic experience we’d shared, and it seemed a bit crude that he would bring it up now. Whatever happened to small talk? But I answered briefly.Sure.

Why don’t you touch yourself right now? Take off your clothes and make yourself cum. Then send me a picture.

What??

I just want a few nudes. What’s the big deal?

My mouth hung open as I stared at the screen.Why are you saying this?

Don’t be such a prude. You flicked your bean for me the other day, so you can do it again. Or better yet, I’ll come over there and do it for you.

Don’t come here, I typed in a panic.

Then stop being a cocktease and send some nudes.

My heart pounded painfully in my chest as I typed the last thing I’d ever say to him.Don’t ever contact me again.

24

GRANT

It wasmy least favorite part of the week—my video call with my father. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed being called a fuck-up as much as the next guy. But did it have to happen every single week?

“Yes, I understand,” I said automatically. I didn’t even need to listen much—all I had to do was to claim to agree. “Okay, I will.” That last one was an admonishment, as always, to support Bennett. Follow his lead. Never, ever cross him. It was practically our family motto.

“Yeah, Dad, I’ve got it.”

The worst part today was that I’d left my phone in the sitting room, so I couldn’t even discreetly scroll through it, keeping it just out of sight of the camera. I surreptitiously looked around my bedroom, but there was nothing within reach that would distract me from this call.

“How’s mom?” I asked. That usually kept him from lecturing for a minute or two. It wasn’t long enough, though.

I spent the last few minutes nodding. And smiling. And generally being a fucking obedient son who followed the familycode. Which was, generally, to make sure family got everything and others got nothing.

I stayed at my desk after the call ended. Usually, I was mad enough that I had to go down to the basement and beat the fuck out of the punching bag or lift until my muscles trembled. But I didn’t do either of those things.

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