Page 14 of Try Me

“They like you better.”

“Debatable. But yeah, I’ll call. Bye.” I didn’t wait for a response before rolling back onto my side and pulling the pillow over my head as the door shut. Muddy light filtered through the cheap blinds and beneath the pillow. I wished I could stay in bed all day.

I closed my eyes, willing sleep to roll over me again and carry me under to a blessed darkness where my head and balls didn’t ache. Then I opened them again.

I fumbled in the covers for my phone and flicked the screen to life when I found it. Battery at 10 percent. It felt like a metaphor for my level of consciousness.

Amanda:Breakfast and night recap?

Amanda:Helloooooo?

Amanda:Are you okay? Don’t make me mom you.

Amanda:Ugh. You’re sleeping it off, aren’t you? Why are dudes always better sleepers? I didn’t sleep for shit last night. Should’ve just stayed over at your place.

That’d been two hours ago.

Chet:Alive. And fine. Missed breakfast obvs. Grab dinner tonight maybe? Depends on work.

Amanda:Proof of life. Yay.

She added an eyeroll emoji.

Amanda:You owe me stories.

Chet:Yeah yeah.

I darkened the screen and then woke it again a second later with a sigh, sucking on my parched lower lip as I tapped Mark’s message thread. My gut had gone all kinds of tight when I’d opened the message last night.

I shouldn’t have gone, though. Rehashing his stupid accusations pissed me off all over again. I still couldn’t believe he’d bought into them. Then again, what the hell did he know about me these days anyway?

But I shouldn’t have fucked with him like that. Much lessenjoyedit. Maybe I was the nutjob I’d accused him of being.

I let the phone fall facedown on the mattress, hand coasting down my abdomen to my thickening cock as my eyes drifted shut.

I imagined a different version of last night. The alternative facts version where instead of hurling accusations and venom at each other, Mark buried his fingers in my hair as I lowered to my knees and unzipped him, his eyes wide and feverish with lust as I wrapped my lips around his cock. Breathless, needy gasps of sound and pleas falling from his lips when I sucked him until he lost control and bucked into me. Or maybe it was my cock pummeling the back of his throat, my hand buried in his strands, my mouth uttering filthy directives while he choked around me.

I groaned with arousal, with latent envy, with a tangled mass of emotions that struggled to find any outlet other than this one.

I lost it and shot all over my hand, then fumbled around the floor until I encountered something suitably soft that turned out to be a sock. It’d do. After wiping myself off, I opened the message thread again. But what the fuck did I say after last night?

How’s your face?I typed, then erased it.

Wanna do it again?Another immediate erase, and one that left me chuckling to myself. Yeah, I was definitely walking some tightrope-tiny sanity lines.

I’m sorry.That one I lingered over the longest, letting it remain in the window as I scrolled back through our messages. I’d kept all of them over the years. There were a few from high school after I’d gotten my new phone:This is Pynch. New Number.

Cool.

How’s school?

Pretty good. You? Liking Hawthorn?

Yeah. It’s not too bad. B-ball team is top notch.

You starting?

As a freshman? Prob not. We’ll see. You?