Page 21 of Come Find Me Tonight

I’m trying to remember what Appa felt like last night. I can still breathe in the subtle way she smelled of vanilla even if it’s imaginary now. Aside from her soft lips and the sex, the way her body felt against mine has completely escaped me. I want my muscles to have a memory of how she felt. More reasons to go slower and cuddle her next time. The moment she slipped her robe off in front of me starts highlight-reeling through my mind, but I force myself to shove the thought down. I don’t have time to get aroused right now.

But damn, I was inside her last night.

After getting dressed, I reach for my phone and pull up her profile. Still nothing new. My thumb hovers over the screen, wanting to refresh. I’m sure she’s okay. If anything, just shaken up and pissed at me.

Of course she’s okay; she came hard on your dick again.

A million girls would kill to be in Appa’s shoes, and my sassy girl better know that. I smirk despite myself, but it fades fast.

I sit at my work desk with my morning ritual of espresso and a water bottle and power up my computer. I have a busy day lined up consisting of meetings and app fixes, and I need to work on creating a sandbox environment for a client’s site that’s already live. I groan under my breath when I see I have a new meeting invite for eight-thirty this morning. I rub my temples. Meetings before nine should be illegal, but these clients are on the East Coast where it’s almost lunchtime.

I refresh social media and still hear nothing from Appa. She’s probably got something scheduled, but her story is the only way I know how she is in the moment. It’s still early, and I hope she’s getting the rest she needs after a late night.

The eight-thirty meeting drags as I sip my now-chilled espresso. I don’t need to be on this call, but my boss always loops me in. Fortunately, no one is using their video, so I keep my camera off and mute myself. I swirl the last of my espresso in the mug before downing it and unlocking my phone to pull up Appa again. I exhale in relief as I spot the ring around her face is finally illuminated, but my pulse ticks up in anticipation. I quickly tap the picture to pull up her recent story, not caring if she only posted two seconds ago.

It’s a selfie of Appa in her pajamas, drinking more damn iced coffee in front of a window where the morning sun illuminates her face and curls. I recognize the furniture enough to know it’s her living room. She looks relaxed and happy, but it doesn’t feel right.

Please don’t be a front.

“Robby?” my boss asks. I shift my attention back to the screen.

Shit.

I had dissociated from the conversation entirely at the slightest distraction from Appa. “Sorry, you cut out for a second. What was that?” I bury my face in my palm.

In this moment, I’m grateful for my easygoing boss, who never thinks twice about anything. He repeats himself, and I answer with ease. I drag my hand down my face. I need to focus on work and not little Appa Pie.

But as the call ends minutes later, I pull up Appa’s story again, deciding to respond to it.

@Rook: Cute front. Almost makes me forget you begged me to stay last night.

It’s a Rook thing to say, but it’s also a test to see if one—she’s mad at me and two—if she wants something gentler. I’ve been hesitant to pivot to being myself with her, and she’ll need to learn that Rook isn’t healthy long-term.

I go back to work, needing to focus on some high-priority tasks. Which is healthy because coding and testing keep my brain challenged, and the day goes by faster the busier I keep myself. But she slips into my thoughts again, and I allow myself to see if she’s seen my message. She hasn’t responded, even if she saw it.

My jaw flexes.

She saw my message instantly and chose not to reply.

She’s the only girl who’s left Rook on read. I had to change my direct message settings because I was receiving so many from no one who mattered, but Appa can message me if she wants. But that stings. Right in the damn heart, more than it should. I shake my head and return to my computer.

Then it’s lunchtime, and I’m right back to checking her page. She has a new story posted, and I curse myself for opening it so quickly again. I suck in a breath while it loads. What am I so nervous about? That she might feel bad after last night, or that she could out me at any time? Her new story is a picture of her legs and bare feet on a lounger by her pool with a book in her lap.

God, she has the cutest toes.

I’m not even a foot person, but how is everything about her so freaking cute and sexy? I respond to her story before I can stop myself.

@Rook: Sun, book, pool…and leaving me on read. If you’re asking to be taught a lesson, you’ll be sorely disappointed, baby girl.

Let’s see how you like them apples, Appa.

I grin when my phone vibrates and lights up with a notification.

@AppaPie: Nobody signed up for your class, baby boy.

I blink at her message and have to reread it. I’m stunned. She had the balls to call Rook that, but I’ll get her back in time. For now, I’ll keep this sparring match going because it’s something after last night.

@Rook: Baby boy? Let’s see if you’re still calling me that with my *eggplant emoji* between your legs again.