Page 35 of Pucking Around

“Told you. He hates us,” says Novy, tearing into another chicken wing.

As I sink down onto my chair, my phone buzzes in my pocket.

Caleb slides his basket of fries over to me. “Here, you’ve earned these.”

But I can’t think about fries. I can’t think about anything. Because after two days of shooting my shot and getting nothing but radio silence, I’m looking down at a topless picture of my Seattle Girl.

18

Ishift on the bed, feeling a little self-conscious, but then my phone dings.

JAKE (8:15PM): Holy shit. Warn a guy next time. Caleb is sitting right next to me

I smile down at my phone. Why does the idea of Caleb seeing my picture on Jake’s phone give me a secret thrill? I lay on my back and type a reply.

RACHEL (8:16PM): Well, then angle the phone away *wink emoji*

My smile widens as I raise my camera and take a new picture from another angle. This time my hand with the star tattoos is cupping my breast, fingers splayed in a nice side-boob shot. You still can’t see anything, and only he would know it’s me because of the tattoos on display. I send it. Immediately, I see three dancing dots.

JAKE (8:18PM): Fucking hell. Seattle, I’m in public. Hold on—

It only takes a minute or two before the phone is ringing. Of course, it’s him. Taking a breath, I answer. “Hello?”

Wherever Jake is, it’s loud. He sighs into the phone. “What the hell are you doing to me, Seattle?”

“I’m answering your many many texts,” I reply. “Why, did you not want me to?”

“I’m out with the guys. I almost fell out of my chair and just shuffled to the bathroom sporting a semi.”

“Where are you?” I say, stretching out on the bed. Just the sound of his voice is soothing me, even as it spins me up tighter.

“I don’t know. Some beach bar. Seattle, why do I have a topless photo of you on my phone?”

“You’ve been sending me topless photos all weekend. I thought it only fair I reciprocated.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “This is a trick. This is…I don’t know where the trap door is, but you’re about to pull some lever, aren’t you?”

I laugh. “No tricks. No trap doors. Consider this my apology.”

“Apology?”

“Mmhmm,” I shamelessly let my free hand roam over my bare chest. Knowing I have him all to myself is making me so wet and needy.

“Why are you apologizing? Wait—” He growls his frustration. “Seattle, what the hell are you doing?”

I sigh as I slide my fingers under the top of my panties. “Touching myself.”

“Oh, fuck. Switch to video.”

I swirl my fingers over my clit. “No.”

“Baby, what are you doing? Talk to me.”

“I have my hand in my panties,” I reply. “I’m touching myself. Jake, I’m so wet,” I whimper, my fingertip dipping inside my pussy.

The gravelly sound in his groan is like a slap straight to the clit. I arch my back on a sigh, sinking a finger deeper inside.

“Baby girl, you gotta talk to me. Tell me what’s happening.”

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