Page 71 of Playing Games

It feels like an alternate universe for a brilliant girl like Lexi to even type the word booty call. But damn, it sure does make me want to laugh.

Me: No booty call, babe. I just want to see you. Not sure if you know this, but I really like seeing you. Can’t get enough of it, actually.

Lexi: I should be home around nine.

Me: I’ll be there.

Lexi: That text was factual, and yet, somehow, you turned it into an invitation.

I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of my lungs, and when I glance up, my mom’s curious eyes are locked on me. Her perfectly sculpted brow arches, but I just flash her an apologetic smile before looking back down at my phone.

Every so often, Lexi’s boldness zings you with that sharp, dry wit of hers. And when it hits, it’s like a curve ball out of nowhere.

Me: You didn’t invite me? Because it felt like it.

Lexi: I think you’re just making assumptions based on what you want.

Me: And what do I want, Lex?

Lexi: I don’t know, Blake. What do you want?

Me: You.

My mom clears her throat, and I glance up from the screen of my phone with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that.”

But I also send one last message.

Me: See you at 9.

My mom watches me closely as I shove my phone back into my pocket, and her eyes never stop assessing my face until I reach forward to take a drink of the water I had the server bring me before she got here.

“What?” I eventually ask, and my mom’s face splits into a knowing smile.

“Who were you just texting with?”

“Just…a friend.”

“A friend makes you smile like that?” She arches that brow, her tone teasing. “Because that looked like more than a friendly smile, darling.”

“Is this your way of asking me if I’m seeing someone?”

“Areyou seeing someone?”

“I am,” I admit, but when she starts to open her mouth—no doubt ready to bombard me with a hundred questions—I hold up a hand. “But we’re keeping our relationship on the DL.”

“The DL?”

“Down-low.”

“What in the world does that mean?”

“It means we’re not telling anyone about it yet.”

“And why would you do that?”

Her question catches me off guard. At first, I understood the secret-keeping, but at this point, I’m just going along with it because I’ve been asked to.

It’s not what I want. It’s not even who I am.

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