Page 133 of Right Man, Right Time
Ding.
“I don’t want to know what he says. I’m still shook that you said you would taste your own fingers.” Ross leans forward. “Who the hell says that?”
“Me, that’s who,” I say as I swipe open his response. When two eggplant emoji pop up, I groan out loud.
“Was that a sexual groan or an irritated groan? I honestly can’t tell at this point.”
“Irritated.” I show him Silas’s response.
“Eggplant emoji? What is he, freaking sixteen? That boy has no class.”
“He has class,” I say as I clutch the necklace he gave me today. “I just think . . . maybe he’s trying to hold back or something.”
“Frankly, I’m embarrassed for him. What’s he going to do next? Text water droplets.”
Ding.
We both look at each other. “If that’s water droplets, I’m going to kick a wall,” I say.
Together, we look down at the screen to find two eggplants . . . and two water droplets.
“Dear God,” Ross whispers.
* * *
**SILAS**
“You fucking moron!”I say while whacking Posey with his own towel.
“What? Water droplets are in.”
“They’re not in,” I say defeatedly as I toss his towel to the floor. “Jesus fuck, what have you done?”
“Spared you the humiliation of saying something stupid.”
“Spared me?” I guffaw. “You made this worse.”
“How so? In a subtle way, I told her you were turned on. Can’t get any better than that. Trust me, it works.”
“Yeah, where’s your proof? I don’t see you walking around with a girlfriend.”
“Hey, you’re the one who asked me for help. If you didn’t think I was qualified, you never should have confided in me.”
“Obviously,” I reply as my phone dings. Posey reaches for it, but I swat his hand away. “Get the fuck away.”
I turn my back toward him and open the text.
It’s a picture of Ollie, showing off her cleavage, the necklaces I gave her on full display. I wet my lips as I stare at it for a few seconds, taking in every last bit of her from her full lips to her gorgeous eyes to her ample tits that I got to suck on last night . . .
My phone is ripped from my hands, and Posey is staring at the photo. “Holy shit,” he says.
“Give me that.”
“No way, you’re going to fuck this up.” He takes off toward the middle of the locker room in his briefs. I grip my towel and chase after him.
“I’m going to fuck it up? You’re the one who’s been fucking it up this whole time.”
“Uh . . . pretty sure I’m the one who got you this picture with my expert texting. By the way, you’re welcome.”
