“Oh, I’m sure you and those monstrous titties can come up with something,” I tease, motioning towards her chest.
She sticks her tongue out in disgust. “Ugh. I hate that word.”
“Titties? You would. What does Ben call them?”
“Tits. I can do tits. It’s more… sophisticated sounding.”
I throw my head back with a laugh. “Sophisticated? I just seriously pictured them wearing a bowtie and a monocle.”
“And they probably have a British accent,” she adds with a chuckle before opening my door. “All right, I gotta go. You’re coming early on Saturday to help set up, right?”
“Yup. And I’m bringing the booze. I’m getting tanked at that shower.” She shoots me a stern warning look and I smirk. “Kidding. I’ll see ya.”
“Later.”
I get up and lock the door after she closes it behind her, watching out the tiny window as my best friend waddles to her car. Yes, she is waddling now, and it really is adorable to watch. Mia has rocked this pregnancy, making it look better than anyone I’ve ever seen. And it’s been relatively easy for her up until now. She’s hardly had any morning sickness, and had been able to wear most of her regular clothes up until a couple of months ago. That was when she really started to pop out. But unfortunately for me, every time I see her and that belly, my thoughts always wander to last summer with Luke.
Which sucks. Because I hate thinking about him.
I would’ve had the baby by now if I had actually been pregnant. And I’d most likely be raising it on my own. Which is another reason why I don’t understand his presence at the shower this weekend. Why the hell would a guy who doesn’t want kids of his own attend a baby shower? I don’t care if he is my brother’s best friend. Shouldn’t he want to bail on a party that focuses on the miracle of life? The one that he never wants to experience?
Asshole. He’s probably just attending to annoy me.
And who the hell had the brilliant idea of making it a pool party baby shower? I know it wasn’t Mia. She refuses to wear a bathing suit right now, even if it is a thousand degrees outside. So, not only am I going to have to endure Luke Evans’ presence during this two hour ordeal, but I’m also going to be struggling with the task of not staring at his glorious body in a bathing suit.
Shirtless.
Tanned.
All those tattoos.
Sweet baby Jesus. He’s impossible to ignore when he’s half naked.
I clamp my eyes shut and picture it, feeling the familiar tingling sensation tickling between my legs.
Fuck this. I need a distraction.
I walk over to my desk and boot up my laptop, logging onto Ignite. It’s been a day since I checked for any messages and I’m praying to God that there is a new one. I will definitely be fingering myself in the next thirty minutes, but if it’s to Luke’s face, cock, mouth, or anything else involving him, I’ll be angry and annoyed doing it.
The screen loads and my inbox envelope blinks the bright green color I was hoping to see. I click on it and open up the message box.
TylerTripp has left you a note.
TylerTripp: Hey there, TK12. My name’s Tyler. I’m twenty-seven years old, living in White Hall, Alabama, and I don’t wear a uniform. You’re really pretty and I like how honest you are in your profile. I’m not looking for a one-night stand either. If some lucky guy hasn’t already scooped you up, send me a message. I’d love to chat.
I click on his picture to blow it up and am stunned by the hot face that fills my screen. “Sweet Lord. You are delicious.” And he’s in White Hall, which is only thirty minutes away, so that’s totally doable. I quickly scan his profile, noting some interests. Coffee drinker. Soccer player. Likes to surf. I click on the respond tab and begin typing.
TK12: Hi, Tyler. I’m Tessa Kelly. No lucky guy has scooped me up just yet. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t had much luck on here. Glad to hear you don’t wear a uniform. What do you do?
The little bubbles appear in the window as I chew on my thumb nail and wait for his response.
TylerTripp: Tessa. I like that name. It’s beautiful, like you. I’m a bartender at a local pub in town. It’s easy money, and luckily for me, doesn’t require a uniform. What about you?
I calm my blushing cheeks as I respond. What girl doesn’t like to be called beautiful? It’s nice to hear, considering Luke never once said it. Shit. Don’t think about Luke.
TK12: I’m a medical transcriptionist. It’s kind of boring, but I get to work from home and set my own hours. So I’m not complaining.
TylerTripp: That’s cool. I’m surprised you’re having to find dates on Ignite. But I gotta say, I’m really fucking happy that you are.
TK12: I’ve sort of exercised all my options. My friend’s aunt had success on here so I thought I’d give it a shot. And I’m glad I did. :)
TylerTripp: I hope you’re referring to me.
God. Isn’t flirting the best? Especially with someone who looks like Jax from Sons of Anarchy. Seriously. This guy is insanely hot. Or his picture is, at least.
TK12: Maybe I am.
TylerTripp: Go out with me.
I stare at his command, because that’s exactly how he worded it, and there’s no hesitation in my response. I want this. I need this.
TK12: Okay. What did you have in mind?
TylerTripp: I’m working this weekend but I’m free next Saturday night.
TK12: Sounds perfect. There’s this bonfire that I was going to go to. It’s a lot of fun. Wanna do that?
TylerTripp: That. And possibly more?
Yes. Sweet Jesus, YES. More. I need more. At least one orgasm. I’m not greedy.
TK12: Absolutely. Here’s my cell # 842-555-6997.
I stare at the screen, waiting for the bubbles to appear. But they don’t. And then his name disappears from the chat as if he’s logged off.
“What the hell? Really?”
This guy asks me out, and then bails mid-conversation? Who does that? Well, awesome. Now I’m horny and even more irritated. Not a good combination for me. I log off Ignite and close my laptop. Just as I’m about to head to my bedroom to handle business, my phone beeps somewhere in my apartment.
Shit. Where did I put it?
I look around the kitchen, scanning the countertop and even looking behind my electrical appliances. I’m one to toss my phone just about anywhere and completely forget about it. When I come up with nothing, I move to the couch and stick my hand between the sofa cushions. Nothing. It beeps again, coming from the direction of the kitchen that I just ruled out. And then I remember grabbing a water bottle just before Mia arrived. I open the fridge, and sitting on the shelf next to the milk is my phone.
Really, Tessa?
I look at my screen and see a text message from a number I don’t recognize.
Unknown: Hey, it’s Tyler. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t give me a fake number. I’ve had that happen.
I lick my lips and walk over to the couch, plopping down with my head at one end and my feet at the other. I type my response with a nervous energy after I add his number to my contacts list.
Me: I wouldn’t fake number you. Unless you told me you liked to fuck animals or something weird.
Tyler: Jesus Christ. You’re something else. I prefer to fuck women, so I think you can rest easy there. Listen, I’ve had some shitty experiences on Ignite. People aren’t always honest, and a lot of them use photos that are either not really who they are or are so old that they don’t even resemble that person anymore. I’m not trying to be a dick, but do you think you could take a picture of yourself and text it to me? I’ll do the same.
She sticks her tongue out in disgust. “Ugh. I hate that word.”
“Titties? You would. What does Ben call them?”
“Tits. I can do tits. It’s more… sophisticated sounding.”
I throw my head back with a laugh. “Sophisticated? I just seriously pictured them wearing a bowtie and a monocle.”
“And they probably have a British accent,” she adds with a chuckle before opening my door. “All right, I gotta go. You’re coming early on Saturday to help set up, right?”
“Yup. And I’m bringing the booze. I’m getting tanked at that shower.” She shoots me a stern warning look and I smirk. “Kidding. I’ll see ya.”
“Later.”
I get up and lock the door after she closes it behind her, watching out the tiny window as my best friend waddles to her car. Yes, she is waddling now, and it really is adorable to watch. Mia has rocked this pregnancy, making it look better than anyone I’ve ever seen. And it’s been relatively easy for her up until now. She’s hardly had any morning sickness, and had been able to wear most of her regular clothes up until a couple of months ago. That was when she really started to pop out. But unfortunately for me, every time I see her and that belly, my thoughts always wander to last summer with Luke.
Which sucks. Because I hate thinking about him.
I would’ve had the baby by now if I had actually been pregnant. And I’d most likely be raising it on my own. Which is another reason why I don’t understand his presence at the shower this weekend. Why the hell would a guy who doesn’t want kids of his own attend a baby shower? I don’t care if he is my brother’s best friend. Shouldn’t he want to bail on a party that focuses on the miracle of life? The one that he never wants to experience?
Asshole. He’s probably just attending to annoy me.
And who the hell had the brilliant idea of making it a pool party baby shower? I know it wasn’t Mia. She refuses to wear a bathing suit right now, even if it is a thousand degrees outside. So, not only am I going to have to endure Luke Evans’ presence during this two hour ordeal, but I’m also going to be struggling with the task of not staring at his glorious body in a bathing suit.
Shirtless.
Tanned.
All those tattoos.
Sweet baby Jesus. He’s impossible to ignore when he’s half naked.
I clamp my eyes shut and picture it, feeling the familiar tingling sensation tickling between my legs.
Fuck this. I need a distraction.
I walk over to my desk and boot up my laptop, logging onto Ignite. It’s been a day since I checked for any messages and I’m praying to God that there is a new one. I will definitely be fingering myself in the next thirty minutes, but if it’s to Luke’s face, cock, mouth, or anything else involving him, I’ll be angry and annoyed doing it.
The screen loads and my inbox envelope blinks the bright green color I was hoping to see. I click on it and open up the message box.
TylerTripp has left you a note.
TylerTripp: Hey there, TK12. My name’s Tyler. I’m twenty-seven years old, living in White Hall, Alabama, and I don’t wear a uniform. You’re really pretty and I like how honest you are in your profile. I’m not looking for a one-night stand either. If some lucky guy hasn’t already scooped you up, send me a message. I’d love to chat.
I click on his picture to blow it up and am stunned by the hot face that fills my screen. “Sweet Lord. You are delicious.” And he’s in White Hall, which is only thirty minutes away, so that’s totally doable. I quickly scan his profile, noting some interests. Coffee drinker. Soccer player. Likes to surf. I click on the respond tab and begin typing.
TK12: Hi, Tyler. I’m Tessa Kelly. No lucky guy has scooped me up just yet. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t had much luck on here. Glad to hear you don’t wear a uniform. What do you do?
The little bubbles appear in the window as I chew on my thumb nail and wait for his response.
TylerTripp: Tessa. I like that name. It’s beautiful, like you. I’m a bartender at a local pub in town. It’s easy money, and luckily for me, doesn’t require a uniform. What about you?
I calm my blushing cheeks as I respond. What girl doesn’t like to be called beautiful? It’s nice to hear, considering Luke never once said it. Shit. Don’t think about Luke.
TK12: I’m a medical transcriptionist. It’s kind of boring, but I get to work from home and set my own hours. So I’m not complaining.
TylerTripp: That’s cool. I’m surprised you’re having to find dates on Ignite. But I gotta say, I’m really fucking happy that you are.
TK12: I’ve sort of exercised all my options. My friend’s aunt had success on here so I thought I’d give it a shot. And I’m glad I did. :)
TylerTripp: I hope you’re referring to me.
God. Isn’t flirting the best? Especially with someone who looks like Jax from Sons of Anarchy. Seriously. This guy is insanely hot. Or his picture is, at least.
TK12: Maybe I am.
TylerTripp: Go out with me.
I stare at his command, because that’s exactly how he worded it, and there’s no hesitation in my response. I want this. I need this.
TK12: Okay. What did you have in mind?
TylerTripp: I’m working this weekend but I’m free next Saturday night.
TK12: Sounds perfect. There’s this bonfire that I was going to go to. It’s a lot of fun. Wanna do that?
TylerTripp: That. And possibly more?
Yes. Sweet Jesus, YES. More. I need more. At least one orgasm. I’m not greedy.
TK12: Absolutely. Here’s my cell # 842-555-6997.
I stare at the screen, waiting for the bubbles to appear. But they don’t. And then his name disappears from the chat as if he’s logged off.
“What the hell? Really?”
This guy asks me out, and then bails mid-conversation? Who does that? Well, awesome. Now I’m horny and even more irritated. Not a good combination for me. I log off Ignite and close my laptop. Just as I’m about to head to my bedroom to handle business, my phone beeps somewhere in my apartment.
Shit. Where did I put it?
I look around the kitchen, scanning the countertop and even looking behind my electrical appliances. I’m one to toss my phone just about anywhere and completely forget about it. When I come up with nothing, I move to the couch and stick my hand between the sofa cushions. Nothing. It beeps again, coming from the direction of the kitchen that I just ruled out. And then I remember grabbing a water bottle just before Mia arrived. I open the fridge, and sitting on the shelf next to the milk is my phone.
Really, Tessa?
I look at my screen and see a text message from a number I don’t recognize.
Unknown: Hey, it’s Tyler. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t give me a fake number. I’ve had that happen.
I lick my lips and walk over to the couch, plopping down with my head at one end and my feet at the other. I type my response with a nervous energy after I add his number to my contacts list.
Me: I wouldn’t fake number you. Unless you told me you liked to fuck animals or something weird.
Tyler: Jesus Christ. You’re something else. I prefer to fuck women, so I think you can rest easy there. Listen, I’ve had some shitty experiences on Ignite. People aren’t always honest, and a lot of them use photos that are either not really who they are or are so old that they don’t even resemble that person anymore. I’m not trying to be a dick, but do you think you could take a picture of yourself and text it to me? I’ll do the same.
