Page 52 of Puck Block

For the love of God.

I’m pathetic. I can’t even get myself back to normal with my own imagination and fingers. Unfortunately, Ford always pops into my head right before I’m about to orgasm, and then I end up denying myself the one pleasure I can get.

Another message comes through.

And yes, I meant it in the way you’re thinking.

Bexley U scores a touchdown on the screen, and everyone cheers around me. I seem to be the only one within eyesight that has their phone in their hand, so I move a little farther into the chaos for a better vantage point.

Your cheeks turned pink when you read that message.

Oh my god.Who the hell–Another message comes through.

Does that mean you want to score tonight, Taytum?

I’ve wanted to score since I was kissed by Ford.

You do. You’re biting your lower lip like you’re thinking about something inappropriate.

Oh my god. I type quickly.

Who are you?

My stomach fills with butterflies, and I’m starting to sweat.

Now what fun would that be if I told you?

He’s right. It’s more exhilarating this way. It would be even more exhilarating if Ford was reading these messages and foaming at the mouth with jealousy. But he’s the one who wants me on here to find a guy who isn’t him, so I push that thought right out of my head.

What are you thinking about? You’ve got that look in your eye…like you’re about to do something that your big brother wouldn’t approve of.

My eyebrow flicks.

He doesn’t approve of anything I do, so I have to do everything in secret.

Like kissing his best friend in a dirty bar bathroom.

I bite my lip again and wait for a response. I take a look around the crowd and linger on a few guys who have their phones out, but when they put them away, I don’t have a message, so I internally pout.

Tell me what you do in secret…

I lock onto the back of Ford’s head, because he’s now one of those secrets. There’s a little turn of my belly when I see a girl standing beside him with her hand on his bicep, laughing at something he said.

My breath hitches, and I’m instantly irritated at the bite of jealousy I feel.

I type hard and fast, as if playing this little game with a stranger is going to erase my body’s reaction to him.

When I’m alone?

I start to get antsy when he doesn’t message me right away. When I feel the vibration against my palm, I almost drop the phone.

Yes.

I want to know what you do when no one is around.

Late at night.

Behind closed doors.

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