According to Mrs. Palma, he’s doing great, and when I spoke to him this morning he was in good spirits, but I hate not being able to see him.
I’m hoping she can convince him to use FaceTime for our next conversation.
I pluck a piece of chicken with my chopsticks. “Not to be a bitch, but can we change the subject?”
“Sure.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Of course.” Glancing down, he releases a breath. “Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
He looks so serious, I stop eating. “What’s up?”
“You and Phoenix—”
As if on cue, there’s a sharp knock on the other side of the wall, followed by a deep, “Fuck yeah.”
“I’m sorry,” I grit out when the headboard thumping escalates. “You were saying?”
Visibly uneasy, George looks between me and the wall. “What’s the deal with you two? I know you used to date, but…” His voice trails off and the banging finally stops.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek because it didn’t last long.
Averting my gaze, I focus on my chicken and broccoli again. “We had a very short-lived thing back in high school, but it was nothing.”
“It doesn’t seem like nothing to him.” His expression falters. “I just want to make sure I’m not barking up the wrong tree here.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’m not a tree, but he looks so earnest I don’t have the heart to scold him.
“There are no feelings for him on my end.” Other than extreme animosity. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
Seemingly relieved now, he smiles. “Good.”
Unlike a certain asshole, I value honesty, so I tell him the truth. “I’m not looking for anything serious, though. With everything going on with my dad, I just don’t have the bandwidth to deal with a relationship.”
“I get it. And I’m cool going at whatever speed you want.” He inches closer. “I just want to keep getting to know you. Because I’m enjoying it.”
“I am, too.”
Not only is George stable, kind, and normal. He seems genuinely interested in me for all the right reasons.
Which is why I don’t push him away when he leans in…
And the obnoxious headboard banging comes back with a vengeance.
I glower at the wall. “I’m gonna march over there and strangle him.”
“Talk about a mood killer,” George mutters under his breath. “Why don’t we go to my room?”
Back to his room…where we’ll kiss.
And maybe more.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted.”
It’s not exactly a lie. Dealing with Phoenix is grueling and I need to catch up on my sleep.
Fortunately, George doesn’t get mad about me declining and doesn’t push the issue. “No problem.”
I walk him to the door. “I had fun.”
“Me too.”
Cue the awkward moment that always happens after a date…even though I’m not sure this qualifies as one.
George must think it does, though, because when I lean in for a hug, he leans in for a kiss.
And that only makes things even more awkward because we end up doing this weird half-hug thing before his lips brush mine and we exchange a very quick and very chaste kiss.
“Text me so I know you made it home safely,” I joke in an attempt to break up the tension.
It works because he chuckles as he walks down the hallway. “You got it.”
A moment later, he disappears into his room and my phone lights up with a text.
George: I had fun tonight.
Lennon: Me too.
George: Get some sleep.
After placing my phone on the nightstand, I undress so I can climb into bed.
Sweet and safe is good.
I’m slipping the Papa Roach T-shirt over my head when the impulse to join Pettyville strikes.
Gripping the headboard, I slam it against the wall as hard as I can a few times.
Then I moan. Loudly.
Take that, asshole.
Tiny bolts of pleasure course through me, rousing me from sleep. I squeeze my eyes shut as Phoenix’s hot, wet mouth gently laps at my pussy, unwilling to wake up from this dream despite how much I hate him in real life.
Because in my dreams, he’s not an asshole who betrayed me.
In my dreams, he’d never hurt me.
In my dreams…he makes me come harder than I ever have before.