Page 20 of The Riley Effect

Byron is a step behind me when I walk into my room and strip out of my clothes so I can put on gym shorts and a Westvale Hockey hoodie. I’m hesitant to mention my feelings towards Ivy to Byron, but I also know I can’t lie to him. Mainly because I’m shit at lying to people that I care about. He rests his hip against the door frame, waiting for me to answer the question he asked downstairs.

“I don’t know, man,” I say before releasing a heavy sigh. “I really like her. She is surprisingly laidback, and conversation is easy, and I like that she is an athlete.”

I’ve tended to stay away from athletes when I have picked hookup buddies in the past. Their schedules are just as crazy as mine, and it complicates what’s supposed to be a casual relationship.

“She is just as competitive as me. When she won today, her eyes lit up like she won another National Championship.”

I slip past Byron and head to our shared bathroom down the hall. The room stays quiet. Byron follows me to the bathroom and sits on the closed lid of our toilet.

“You know you have a girl waiting downstairs to suck your dick.”

“I’m more interested in your girl,” he says, laughing. I can’t blame him for not wanting to wait for answers about tonight. As much as I wish Byron would leave me alone, he is my oldest friend, and he’s never heard me talk about a girl like this.

“There isn’t much more to be said,” I answer honestly.

“Nothing you want to share,” he pauses, giving me a chance to answer. When I don’t, he continues. “You know Indy is in Marcus’ room right now, and the first thing she told us when she got here was how your hands were pretty close to her ass, and your tongue couldn’t have been further down her throat.”

When I finish in the bathroom, I walk back to my room, and I still haven’t shaken Byron.

“You got it, bad kid. You must have gotten her number before the rest of us could for a reason because I’ve never heard you talk about a girl like this.” He hums on his way back downstairs.

12

Ivy

One of my favorite parts of living with Indy and Lola is the recaps we have in bed after a night out. Most of the time, I’m the voice of reason, trying to decipher the truth in a basket full of drunk delusions, but right now, I’m in need of one of those talks. Except it isn’t a night out I need advice about, it’s a date. It’s six in the morning, and I’ve been up for hours running through everything I could have said differently during my date with Jalen.

I roll over to take my phone off the charger and turn it back on.

I haven’t spoken to either of my roommates since they helped me pick out my outfit before my date last night, so I’m expecting messages from both of them. I know there will be a few from Indy who texted me a few times last night wanting to know all the details about what happened with Jalen. After she left to see Marcus, I turned my phone off. There was no way I could answer my friends’ questions about last night when I have so many myself. When my phone powers up, the messages and missed calls come in.

One missed call from Indy.

Two missed FaceTimes from Lola, who I’m sure got all the details about my front porch hookup from Indy.

Twelve missed texts in our roomie group chat. Including- Are you still alive!?!

One text from Jalen

Jalen: Hey Ivy, I just got home. Thanks for a fun night. I can’t wait for that one-on-one game. I’ll see you at the shelter this week ??

Little butterflies take flight in my belly as I reply.

Me: Beating your ass last night was the highlight of my week ;) Sorry for the delayed reply. I turned my phone off when I got home. I didn’t want to deal with Indy and the 500 questions she would inevitably ask.

Jalen: Lucky for you, I took the brunt of them. Marcus had to pick her up and carry her out of my doorway. But I didn’t mind. I could talk about you all night.

Me: Aren’t you, Mr. Smooth.

Jalen: Just wait, baby. You haven’t seen anything yet.

Rolling my eyes, I place a pillow on my face and scream into it. I’m not sure if that really does anything, but it seems to help in the movies, and at this point, I’ll do anything to help me figure out my feelings for Jalen and the anxiety I feel about starting a new relationship.

I agreed to participate in the party olympics because I was tired of the people in my life telling me that I needed toact my age. Jalen seemed like the right person to help me with that. He’s a known playboy, his house is always having parties, and he is an athlete. The perfect trifecta of man who would describe his relationships as no-strings-attached.

The Jalen I was with last night was much more than the hockey-playing ladies’ man who asked me to come to a party. He was attentive and sweet, and when I woke up to a text this morning telling me how much fun he had last night and that he couldn’t wait to cash in on the bet we made, I started having feelings I haven’t felt in a really long time. I am confused. I don’t have time for butterflies and overthinking text messages.

I shake my head like the simple motion will erase my confusion.

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