Page 46 of Faking It with the Forward

Reese

“I’m making eggs,” Jeff says as I walk into the kitchen the next morning. “You guys want some?”

His eyes dart behind me, looking for Twyler. Take a look, bud, she’s not here. She wasn’t in my bed when I woke up and her side of the mattress was cold.

There’s only one possibility. I scared her off.

Reid looks up from his bowl of cereal, a line slashing his forehead. “Cap, where’s Twy?”

“She left.” I head straight for the coffee, thankful someone already started it.

“Please tell me you didn’t kill her last night.”

Okay, so apparently if you’re Reid, there’s another possibility. I’m a murderer.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I grab a cup and fill it to the brim. Black. No milk. Just like Twyler said.

“I just heard all that noise from your room last night, and they didn’t sound like your standard sex moves so—”

“Wait,” Jeff says, taking his plate and sitting at the bar. “I’m curious what the difference is between murder sounds and sex sounds. Describe please.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, knowing there’s no way to stop them when they get started on early morning bullshit.

“You all have them,” Reid says, as though keeping track of his roommates’ sex sounds is completely normal. “Axel likes it rough and definitely chooses screamers, so overturned furniture and that kind of sound coming from his room wouldn’t be a surprise.” His eyes shift to Jeff. “You love a good wall fuck, bro. Half the time I think you may come through our shared wall. I’ve stopped hanging anything up because it falls and scares the shit out of me.”

“Are you sure it’s not a ghost?” I ask, getting in a jab.

He rolls his eyes, likethat’sridiculous. “Reese is usually pretty quiet, other than that squeak in his mattress and a little headboard banging.” He shrugs, but then points his spoon at me. “Oh, can’t forget the sound of whoever he’s fucking chanting his name like he’s just lit the lamp.”

“Oh, Reese!” Axel moans in a high-pitched voice from the couch across the room. Fuck. I didn’t even see him. “Don’t stop! Your tongue is ammmaazing.”

They all crack up, Reid dropping his head on the counter, in full body shakes.

“Hi-fucking-larious.” I lean back against the counter. “I can’t help that when I go down on a chick she wants to worship me like I’m a higher power. It’s a gift.” I take another sip of coffee, feeling my brain slowly wake up. “And stop listening to everyone fuck. It’s creepy.”

“Seriously, dude,” Jeff says, barely concealing a grin, “the walls are thin, but get some headphones like the rest of us.”

Reid shrugs, making it clear he will not be getting headphones because he’s a perv.

“Regardless,” I say, feeling the need to clear this up, even if it’s with a lie, “I didn’t kill her. She just had to leave early. No big.”

Although itfeelsbig. I’ve asked plenty of girls to leave after we had sex. I’ve never had one take off before I wanted her to.

“Probably didn’t want to do the walk of shame out of the Manor in broad daylight,” Axel says, stretching out on the couch. He adjusts himself, cupping his hand over the crotch of his black boxer briefs. Otherwise he’s got nothing on, his ink on full display. “TG’s not the kind of girl that wears a fuck like a badge of honor.”

Huh. He may be on to something.

Because last night had been amazing. Not the first part where she showed up crying and accusing me of knowing about Nadia’s quarterback hookup. Or even when I went to bed with a raging boner, restless, and unable to sleep, which is why I flipped out of the fucking chair. But the part after that, where she straddled my ass and ran her hands all over my body? Hell yeah. I can still feel her hot little pussy pressed up against the back of my thighs. But worse? How wet she was when I flipped over, and my cock drilled in between her legs.

Two strokes. That’s all it would’ve taken.

Which is why I had to put a stop to it before I embarrassed myself and traumatized her for life.

Lost in my thoughts, I exit the kitchen, leaving them to their inane discussion. It’s Sunday, which means we only have one practice—at two.

OneFive: Morning, Sunshine. Imagine my surprise when I woke up and found my bed empty.

I give her a minute to respond. She could be asleep. Or in the shower. Or reconsidering all her life choices from the last twenty-four hours.

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