Page 32 of Revv

Guacamole stretches one wrinkly leg into the air and starts cleaning himself.

“Disgusting, dude.”

I turn back to my laptop and shove my headphones over my ears before I get dumb enough to open the chat again.

Whatever they’re saying, I don’t need to know.

Revel is probably grinning at his phone like the cocky little shit he is right now.

He knows exactly what he did.

I restart the track from the middle and force myself to focus. The bass rolls in low and dirty, the vocal slipping under it smooth enough to make my shoulders loosen. I count the beat under my breath.

My fingers move over the controller, adjusting the bass, sharpening the percussion, dragging the tension out a little longer. The mix starts to shift into something hotter. Meaner. The kind of track that makes you move before you decide to.

Very inconveniently like last night.

His hands on my thighs and his mouth on my throat.

That stupid grin when I told him nothing happened.

I adjust the next drop harder than I planned, and it works.

The beat cuts out for one sharp second.

Then slams back in.

A slow smile pulls at my mouth. “Finally.”

Guacamole meows from the bed.

“Not you,” I tell him.

He settles back down, useless and loved.

I save the mix twice, then play it again from the top.

The group chat stays unopened.

My phone stays facedown, and Revel stays exactly where I do not want him.

In my head.

On my mouth and under my skin.

Ay, Dios mío.

I lean back in my chair, listening to the bass hit just right, and try not to think about the questions I’m going to get the second the girls see my face. I can already hear them giving me shit. And Revel? He better not say one damn word.

The drop hits again, filthy and perfect.

I close my eyes. “Liar,” I mutter.

Chapter Four

Revel

“Dude, she fucking kissed you?”