Page 143 of Just for the Plot

My driver drove me today because I was packed and ready to board the plane after the game, only to find out that we weren’t leaving until the morning, which means, my driver is driving me home now.

I kind of fucking like it, though. Not having to mess around with traffic after a game. I can just decompress in the back while he deals with weaving in and out.

Also, it gives me a chance to catch the “daddies” up.

Bennett:Things have progressed with Bower. Book club is taking flight, not as popular as your social media launch, Graydon, but we’ll get there. Gretchen is getting Bower involved in the book club and I might have fucking eaten her out.

I lean my head back, just as there is a text, buzzing my phone in my hand.

OC:Who did you eat out? Gretchen? Did she taste like burned popcorn? Because that’s the feeling I get from her.

Graydon:Why the fuck would he eat Gretchen out? Clearly he’s talking about Bower.

OC:From his sentence structure, one could assume the subject (Gretchen) is the one who he’s performing the tongue action on, the eating out.

Graydon:But the last proper noun in the sentence is Bower.

OC:She’s the secondary, Gretchen is the subject, therefore making the reader lean into thinking she’s the one Bennett stuck his tongue in.

Graydon:You’ve lost it.

OC:You need to get educated.

Bennett:For fuck’s sake, who cares! I ate Bower out. That’s what should matter right now.

OC:It would if you structured your sentence properly. I know text messaging allows for a lack of punctuation, but don’t *assume* I know what you’re talking about, because you will just make an ass out of you and me.

Graydon:Want to move to a separate chat without him in it?

Bennett:Yes.

OC:Wait, please no, don’t leave me! I’m sorry. I’m lonely and depressed and you both have lives and I have nothing,absolutely nothing, which makes me so pathetic and lonely, and the only thing keeping me going are the typing challenges I’ve been doing online, perfecting my words per minute to sixty-five. Shooting for sixty-nine, if you get my drift.

Graydon:I don’t know what to say to that.

Bennett:Sixty-five, respectable.

OC:Thank you. It’s all about relaxing in the wrist.

Graydon:And we’re leaving.

Pumping with adrenaline from the win earlier today, and my game win, I enter my apartment and kick off my shoes, dropping my bag off at the front door because I know that I’ll just pick it up in the morning.

I brushed my teeth at the stadium, so I pull my shirt over my head and walk into the bedroom just as I come to a complete stop, my life nearly leaving my lungs when I see a lump in my bed.

“Jesus,” I say when I notice that it’s Bower.

She lifts up, looking so adorable in one my shirts and her hair tied up on the top of her head.

“I should have texted you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I say, the shock of finding her slowly dissipating as excitement takes its place. “Everything okay?”

She nods and looks away, almost as if she’s embarrassed.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” she whispers and then glances over her shoulder at me. “But I couldn’t stop myself from coming over.” She swallows. “You’re leaving for ten days and I just thought, well, that maybe we could cuddle before you leave, nothing else.”