hadn’t had one yet, which wasn’t normal. People were excited, planning on road tripping for the event. I wondered if Logan was going to go, and what that meant about us, but I got my answer later.
Hey! Sex Machine here. How’s your day? Can we meet up Sunday night? We’re going to the game this weekend so we won’t be around.
We. He said we. My grin faltered. What did that mean? We.
Not me, as in he wouldn’t be around, but we, as in he and others, like they were all going to hang out together, like they were friends. Hearing my own thoughts, I rolled my eyes. I was being an idiot. I replied, Sounds good. Have a fun weekend!
Sweet. Talk to you later, Bruce.
I sighed and scooted lower on the couch. I had to ask myself the same question again: What the hell was I doing? I typed back, Will do. See you Sunday.
Figuring the conversation was done, I started to put my phone back on the table, but it buzzed again.
You’re probably going to get drunk text messages from me. Be prepared.
My grin returned. They better be good.
Only dick pics.
I laughed out loud. Promise?
I can send you one right now.
If you do, I can’t promise what I’ll do with it.
I suggest banners, maybe even fliers. Everyone should know it by sight. ;)
I typed back: It should have its own fan group.
#Logansdick I’ll get Nate to be the admin for it.
We kept going back and forth, and it was late when we finally stopped, and my sides hurt from laughing, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
And they didn’t really hurt, not at all.
Logan texted a few times during the next day. Cain won, he wanted to share with me. The rest were jokes throughout the day. I was drifting off to sleep when my phone lit up. When I saw the first text, I laid back, already smiling.
If I weren’t in a hotel with Nate, three hours away, this would be a booty text.
I typed back, Are you drunk?
Yes. If I weren’t, I’d probably be driving to your house instead.
That’d be good with me. My dad’s gone tonight.
Shit. Because of the game, right? Fuck. See? I should’ve asked you to come after all.
I paused. He had thought about asking me? I sat there surprised for a moment. That’s okay. I needed to get a lot of stuff done. I applied at Pete’s Pub after all.
You did? Did you get the job?
Trained tonight already.
Fuck yeah! Wait. Are you a server?
A bartender.
Even better. Shit, I gotta go. Nate’s going to take my phone away. I’ll call you tomorrow.
I typed out a goodnight and left the phone on the nightstand. Sinking into my covers, I didn’t even try to hold back the smile on my face. It felt good to have that excited feeling in my belly.
“Eric!” I would’ve screamed, but I couldn’t. Another gunshot sounded from farther down the hallway. I crouched on the floor and looked down the corridor, holding my breath. They hadn’t come around the corner. There was still time. I reached out my hand. Eric stood frozen over me. He’d started to bend down to help me up, but then that shot went off. He couldn’t move. He just stared right where they were going to come from.
“Eric,” I whispered. My hand reached for his.
He still didn’t move.
I was growing panicked. “Eric! Please.”
One more gunshot.
“Eri—” I started again, but he looked down. The fear in his eyes was stark.
I knew. Even before he started to shake his head, I knew. I felt it in my bones, and it chilled me. He was going to leave me here.
I tried to push myself up from the floor, but I couldn’t. My knee wouldn’t work. “Eric. Please.”
His eyes went flat. His head shook from right to left, and he began to move backward. He almost melted away from me. He moved so softly, like a ghost. I barely heard him when he said, “I can’t. I…I can’t, Taylor.”
“Eric!” I hissed, sitting up as much as I could. “Help me!”
He was my first kiss.
He still shook his head. He was so far away now, almost to the front desk.
He took my virginity.
He was the first guy to hold my hand, the first guy to take me to a dance, the first everything. He was the first one I’d loved.
“I’m sorry, Taylor.” His hand trembled. He paused at the door, just before slipping outside. “Please forgive me.”