Page 54 of Stroked by (Stroked)
Listen, I have no will. NONE!
Reese: Paisley, I’m sorry. Will you please come back so I can talk to you?
Reese: Clearly you’re not answering your phone. I need to talk to you, Paisley. I was an ass and overreacted.
Reese: Please, Paisley. I need to talk to you.
Reese: If you’re not going to talk to me, then I will have to come see you.
My heart stops in my chest as I read the next text message. He can’t come here. Jonathan would lose his shit, probably de-friend me, in real life and on Facebook, the ultimate disconnection of friendship. I’m about to hyperventilate when I realize, he has no clue where I live. I heave a sigh of relief and look at the last text message.
Reese: Lucky for me, I have some awesome connections. I’m headed over to your apartment right now.
I jackknife out of bed and run around in place, unsure of what to do. There is no way he’s coming over, right? He’s just messing with me, trying to get me to talk to him. He’s bluffing.
From behind my closed door, I can hear Jonathan and his girl laughing at something and I wonder what the hell he would do if he saw Reese King standing at our apartment door, looking to come in for a little chat.
Jonathan would kill me.
Yup, he would slaughter me in my sleep, shove me through the wood chipper, pretty much rip my nips off and feed them to a wild pack of mangy dogs.
I check the time on the text message and realize it was quite a while ago.
“Shit.” I look around, wondering what I should do. He can’t possibly be serious, right?
My phone dings with a text message. With one eye open, cringing, I look down to see Reese’s name pop up on my phone. Frantically, I open the text message and read it as fast as I can.
Reese: Headed up the stairs to your apartment.
“Fuck!” I say, a little too loudly. I text him back, my fingers flying faster than I can think
Paisley: Book do t co rui here
I look down at my text and swear. “Fuck you, phone!” I try again.
Paisley: Boom do t co evil here
“Dammit!” I shout, hating my frantic fingers. Before I can type another response, a text from Reese swoops in.
Reese: I think you’re trying to tell me something, but I can’t really tell what it is.
A smirk crosses my face but then I chastise myself for letting his charm through a text affect me. Another message comes in.
Reese: I’m at your door. Let me in.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Without thinking, I burst through my door, eyes wide and frenzied and so beyond distraught that Jonathan will find out about Reese that I feel like puking.
Jonathan and his girl are making out on the couch, but pull away quickly when they see me standing in front of them, chest heaving, and phone in my hand, standing ramrod straight and awkward.
“Uh, Paisley, whatcha doin’?” he asks, giving me hisWhat the Fuckeyes.
I point at him and say, “If you’re going to have sex, do it in your room.”
“Paisley,” he warns. “Maybe you should go back in your room.”
I know we just discussed him having the living room for the night, but that clearly changed the minute Reese decided to show up at the apartment.
