Page 86 of The Plus Ones
“Yeah. You will.”
As soon as Manny opens the door, Jackpot tries to bolt, but I’m holding on to his collar.
“Stay, Jackpot. You stay here with Keaton.” She holds her finger up to him, and he barks out a complaint before sitting down again and staring up at her. “You need to be more forceful,” she says to me.
“I’m coming back to pick you up at eight,” I say to her—forcefully.
She giggles. “No. But that was good.” She lets Manny help her out and doesn’t say good-bye again or turn around.
And…Three. Two. One.
When she gets the front door unlocked, she looks over her shoulder and blows us a kiss before going inside.
Jackpot barks once.
“Yeah. She loves us. She’ll be back.”
22
Roxy
Well, this is just dumb.
It’s almost ten on a Thursday night and I’m not tired enough to sleep, but I don’t want to be awake if I have to spend one more hour alone without Keaton fucking Bridges.
How did I go from being a reasonably sane and emotionally stable human being to being the woman who can’t sleep in a bed unless Keaton is in it?
My skin hurts from going hours without being touched by him.
My lips don’t know what to do anymore if they aren’t kissing him.
My ears are straining to hear him say he’s my boyfriend again.
I should have done laundry this evening, but I didn’t want to wash his scent off my clothes. I should have just taken his stupid T-shirt. I should have just said he could come pick me up earlier. Now there’s a freaking blizzard that’s supposed to last a couple of hours, and I really need to sleep so I can be on my game when I go to work tomorrow.
I text Aimee to see if she’s up. She isn’t. Or if she is, she’s doing all the things she needs to do before school and work tomorrow.
I can’t believe Keaton hasn’t texted me tonight. A couple of hours after they dropped me off, he sent me a picture of Jackpot, who was lying down in a dog bed and glancing up at the camera like—what now, dude?Keaton’s caption was:SO EXCITED TO BE HOME!!!
I can’t call him.
I scroll through my recent calls and texts to find someone else to call or text, but there’s no one else I want to talk to or text more than The Man with No Socks, who has stealthily invaded my vagina and my heart.
I can’t call him.
I am definitely not calling him.
I type out a text:You up?
Ten seconds later, I have a FaceTime call coming in from Keaton Bridges.
I accept the video call, and I am so happy to see his stupid handsome face, it’s devastating.
“Are you in bed?” is the first thing he says.
“Yes, but I’m dressed and I’mnotgoing to have FaceTime sex with you.”
“Ever?”
