“Oh.” She wrings her hands.

Shit. I hope she doesn’t start to cry. “It’s not personal. I need to stay focused.” A daylight truck BJ wouldn’t be happening with her regardless (still news to my dick), but at least the excuse is mostly true.

“Right. Sure. I understand.”

She unbuckles her seatbelt and leans over like she’s going for some kind of goodbye kiss. I only spent one night with her. I think we had sex twice. It was decent if I’m remembering right, but I’m not positive. I lift my chin so I get her forehead instead of her mouth.

I pull back and smile. She returns it, but it’s got that watery quality again. She reaches for the door, which is when I realize she’s still not wearing bottoms.

“Hey.”

She stops with her hand on the door, and her hopeful expression makes me feel shitty.

I glance down and get an eyeful of pussy. “You should probably put some shorts on, honey.”

“Oh! Oh my God!” Her cheeks flush, and she mutters an apology as she rummages through her bag. It takes forever for her to find her shorts. She jabs her feet through the holes and pulls them up, then jams all the other crap back in.

She opens the door without looking at me. “Thanks for the ride.”

There’s a thick feeling in my throat. “No problem.”

She gets down just fine without any help. She’s about to close the door when I notice her phone on the seat.

“Hold up!”

She lifts her head, that same hopeful expression appearing again. Except she uses the back of her hand to rub at her eyes. I made her cry. I don’t think this situation could get any more awkward.

I hold out the phone. “You almost forgot this.”

“Shit.” She climbs back up to get it. “Thanks. I wouldn’t want you to have to come back here or anything.”

Any sympathy I might have felt dissolves with the sharp bite of her comment. She backs out of the truck and slams the door. I wait until she’s inside before I pull away. As soon as I get home, I check my social media feeds. She’s posted the pic. Her name is Marcie. She’s also posted this:

RBBRs: Forehead kisses are the worst.

She’s referencing a group called the Randy Ballistic Bunny Rejects. Apparently it’s where girls I’ve been with more than once go to swap stories. I stay away from that crap, but I know it exists.

Below the post are a slew of comments from other girls. I recognize quite a few of their names and faces from their profile pics. It’s messed up how my rejection is like a rite of passage.

I nab a beer from the fridge, twist off the top, and take a long swig. It’s too nice to sit inside, so I step out on my back deck, put on some tunes, and relax. That lasts three minutes. I’m not good at sitting around for long. I also feel shitty about what happened with Marcie.

It’s not my fault she romanticized one night, but it never feels good to make a girl cry. I made Lily cry, but that was different, and I think that’s been resolved at this point. I pull up her contact. I messaged her a few days ago and got a response that she was at work. I haven’t heard anything since. Next weekend will be here soon, so I figure it’s a good idea to start a slightly more consistent back and forth. That way I can get a good gauge on whether she’s feeling me or not.

What ru up to?

Her message comes less than two minutes later.

Getting ready 4 wrk. U?

That’s all she ever seems to do.

Drinking beer on my back deck.

The next one comes faster. There’s a frowning emoticon attached to it.

Rub it in y don’t u.

I grin as I type the next message.

I can think of lots of things I’d like to rub on u.

There’s a longer break, and I worry I’ve pushed too far, too fast. I’m about to send a message telling her I’m joking when the dots appear in my feed.

ru trying 2 sext me?

Perfect. This is the exact response I’m looking for.

Maybe. Do u wanna b sexted?

I don’t have to wait long for her reply.

I’m about to teach a class. Not a good time.

My next message is loaded:

When do u get off?

She either misses the innuendo or ignores it.

10.

I can wait.

I’ll sext u then.

Unfortunately, I drink too many beers and get too much sun, so I end up passed out on my couch much earlier than I intended. I wake up at midnight and message Lily, but I don’t hear back after ten minutes, so I assume she’s already in bed or ignoring me.

It’s cool, though. I have all week to sext the hell out of her in preparation for the weekend.

Chapter 6

Sexting 101

LILY

I would like to say I don’t wait for Randy’s sext messages when I get home from work. But that might be a lie. While I’m hanging out in my room… not waiting… I do what I’ve been doing since Randy and I first hooked up: I creep him on social media. It’s not hard to do. His face is all over the place. His pretty, pretty face and his superhot body.

New ones have surfaced today, including a few of him lounging by a pool in a pair of swim shorts. Even relaxed he has a six pack. There’s also one of him with some slutty bunny sitting in what appears to be a car. Her boobs take up ninety percent of the picture. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration, but they fill more of the frame than mine would.

My stomach does this weird drop thing. It’s the same feeling I used to get when Benji flirted with other girls in front of me. He did it on purpose to piss me off. He also used to point out all the girls with better boobs than me at the beach. I tried not to let it get to me, but I was rarely successful.