I grinned when I saw Perry’s name.
Reaching backward for the towel, I started to dry off with one hand while I used the other to open my phone.
What I saw made my breath hitch.
It was a photo of her in her bra and panties—though you couldn’t see anything from her hips down—but still. I could fucking see her panties.
The caption said ‘ouch.’
And I could see the bruise already forming on her hip.
But Jesus Christ. She was standing there in a bra and panties.
My dick that was already hard as fuck got even harder.
Groaning, I replied back.
Banner: That wasn’t nice.
Perry: What?
Banner: I’m a seventeen-year-old guy. Figure it out.
Perry: :P
Putting my phone down on the counter, I went to dress and decided to just do underwear for now.
Then, a thought coming at me, I sent her almost the same photo she’d just sent me.
I still had water droplets dripping down my chest, but I didn’t care.
Hitting send, I went to find a pair of sweatpants, pulled them on and went to my shelf and reluctantly pulled out the shit I would need to write my paper.
It was about an hour into the paper that I realized I’d left my phone on the counter in the bathroom.
Tired of writing the paper and thinking that I really needed to take a break anyway, I made my way to the bathroom, grinning when I saw the four texts from Perry.
Perry: Okay, now I know what you meant.
Perry: That was really mean.
Perry: You really have a lot of abs.
Perry: I think I’m…
Dying to know what she would’ve finished that sentence with, I quickly texted her back.
Banner: I think I’m…what?
It took her so long to reply that I was able to finish up the rough draft on my paper.
After hitting the final period, I felt my phone vibrate again.
Perry: I really don’t think I should answer that. I’m embarrassed that I even sent it to begin with.
Now I was really intrigued.
But when I texted her, she didn’t answer.
And I was really, really wanting to know what her reply would’ve been.
Grinning at the phone, I placed it down onto the bathroom counter, then went about getting ready for bed. I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, flossed, and stared at my phone.
All the while, I wondered what it would take for her to answer me.
Sadly, the bubbles never appeared, leaving me wondering what she was thinking, and imagining the very worst—or the best, depending on how you looked at it.
After swiping on some deodorant, I made my way to my room and glanced at the unmade bed.
I didn’t want to sleep there alone.
In fact, the idea of being there without Perry was getting increasingly suckier the longer I imagined it.
And then an idea bloomed.
Biting my lip, I looked over at the tennis shoes that were right beside the dresser on the floor.
I bit my lip, contemplating it for all of a few more seconds, then grabbed a long pair of socks, my tennis shoes, a t-shirt, and was walking out of my door and locking it behind me.
I waved at one of my brother’s fellow SWAT members, Malachi, and went to my bike.
At the last second, I changed my mind and went to my car instead. One of my dad’s buddies had dropped the car off this week, so I now had choices.
It was just as fucking loud as the bike was, but at least if I parked that a couple of streets over, when Perry’s father left in the morning for work and passed it, he wouldn’t be automatically assuming that I stayed the night.
I drove quickly through the darkened, deserted streets. Arriving at the street one over from Perry’s, I parked in the church parking lot, locked up the car, and headed at a brisk walk toward Perry’s house.
When I arrived at her place, all of the lights were off.
I bit my lip, then moved around to the side of the house where I knew Perry’s window was.
Picking up a fallen acorn, I tossed it at her window.
Nothing happened.
I tossed another. And another. And another.
Until finally her light flicked on, and she parted the curtains.
I knew that she couldn’t see me from where she was standing, so I pulled out my phone and sent her a text.
Banner: it’s me.
She opened the window moments later, leaning half out of it as she said, “What the hell?”
I grinned wickedly.
“Back up, I want to come in,” I whispered.
She did, and I took a running leap, catching the lip of the window and hauling myself up.
She blinked at me and bit her lip as she backed away from the window, watching as I moved the rest of the way inside, before bouncing lightly on my feet on her carpeting.
Her mouth gaped as she stared at me.
“Wow,” she said. “That was… impressive.”
I winked at her, turned, and closed the window quietly.
Once the curtains were back in place, I turned to survey her.
She was in a long t-shirt and nothing else.
I instantly felt my dick get hard.
Gesturing toward the bed, I said, “Did I wake you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
I walked over to her door, clicked the lock into place, then turned back to her before stripping off the sweatshirt I was wearing.
Her breathing hitched.
I ignored it—or tried to—and slipped off my shoes next.
She watched me and didn’t move a muscle until I was sliding into her bed.
It was a twin, meaning the moment that I laid down, my feet hung off the end.
It didn’t matter, though.
Not when she followed me, scrambling under the covers and reaching over to flick off her lamp.
The moment that she was in the bed and not moving an inch, I grinned and then tugged her toward me.
She stiffened at the contact but just as quickly relaxed.
I didn’t call her on her message earlier.
Instead I said, “Your dad’s going to kill me.”
“My dad has a sleep apnea machine. He
