Page 68 of Off Limits

Clearing his throat, he changes the conversation. “So, come up that Friday after your class.”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. I’ll want a pile of your shirts again.”

“No, you’re banned.”

“What? Why?” It barely comes out as two distinct words as shock filters through me at the lunacy of his statement.

“You never gave me back that gray one with the guitar on it! I love that shirt.”

“More than me?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you’re okay if I keep it.” My tongue sticks out of the corner of my mouth as though he can see the face I’m making. Only in my wildest dreams.

He sighs heavily into the phone. “It can’t possibly still have any remnant of me on it.”

“It doesn’t. But it’s comfy.”

“That’s why I like it!”

“Okay, tell ya what. Make me a pile, include that blue one I like, and I’ll return your precious guitar shirt.” It seems like a fair compromise to me.

“I like the blue one too. You’re taking all of my shirts.”

“I return them. Eventually. Besides, they’re happy with me.”

“Mhm. Fine, I’ll make a pile of shirts, in exchange for my guitar shirtandyou have to agree to wear them with nothing on underneath.”

“Deal. Though if you’re not around, how do you benefit?”

“Because I can just think about it next time I wear it.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not that hard to agree to since I do that anyway.” Guess we’re both in a teasing mood.

“Stop,” he groans. “You’re so mean.”

“How am I being mean?” I have to play innocent, though, of course I know exactly what I’m doing.

“You’re teasing me. It’s so mean. Now all I can think about is you wearing my shirt.”

“Oh. I’m wearing one right now, in fact. It’s kind of cold with no pants on. Very drafty. I think this one probably wouldn’t fit you anymore. It seems to have shrunk the last time you washed it because it hits me right at the upper thigh, just below my a—"

“Don’t. Please. You’re killing me.” His voice is clipped and tight, the gravelly texture that he gets before we fall into bed.

I bite into my lip, trying not to laugh. “I’m sorry. I won’t tease you anymore. Much.”

“I need to take a cold shower when we hang up.”

“Maybe I’ll join you when I come up for the concert. We didn’t exactly get to finish last time.”

“Okay, if you’re just going to keep torturing me, I’m going to go.”

“No, no, no! I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I promise.” I reach my hand out to stop him as though he can see me. If only.

“Next one, I hang up on you.”

“You’d never.”

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