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“Oh God, Oz…Oz…OZ!”
And there it was. I exploded at the same time. “Layla!” I grunted as the heaviest load ever spewed from my cock, spurting in great gobs, spending on my chest and missing my fucking face by mere inches. Even as I was through, my cock continued to dribble fluid, and I was suddenly exhausted.
Goddamn, it was if I’d actually had a marathon session of sex instead of phone sex.
I grinned. “Layla?” But the line was dead. Shit, she was gone. I let the phone drop to the bed. I contemplated calling her back but I had a feeling my call would go straight to voicemail.
My impulse was to jump in the car and drive to her place but something told me the better play was to let it lie.
Patience was a virtue, right?
We’ll see.
For now, I’ll take the win.
Chapter 7
Layla
“You don't seem to understand the gravity of what has happened,” I complained to Chrissie the following day over a much-needed chai tea latte at our favorite campus coffee shop.
She disagreed while munching on a bagel. “I totally understand what has happened. You finally gave into what has been an undercover crush since we started at Oak Ridge and you’re freaking out because you’re a control freak but honestly, I say, it's about time you scratched that itch.”
I balked, shocked that she could get this situation so wrong. “Chrissie, you know I can't stand Oz. I'm sure this weird sexual attraction is some kind of Freudian thing. I’ll bet if I were to grab one of the psych majors they’d tell me I have some issue with my father or something but I can tell you whatever it is, it isn't going to continue. No more phone sex with Oz. Good God, what was I thinking?”
“You were thinking you needed to get laid. Jesus, girl, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“That’s not the point,” I grumbled, sipping my tea. And yes, it had been a while. Casual sex wasn’t my thing and I was too busy to get to know anyone well enough to let them get into my pants. It was all so exhausting, honestly. Who had the time? “But of all people, Oz? Can I just claim momentary insanity or something? I have no idea what came over me.”
The memory rose up, hot and uninvited to scorch my brain and I nearly choked on my swallow of tea. I wiped my chin as Chrissie just shrugged as if none of this registered on the “Oh Shit” meter and picked a piece of her bagel to pop in her mouth.
“I say, just go with it.”
“Go with it? Are you nuts? Have you lost your mind?”
“You said it was the hottest thing you’ve ever done. Where's the harm in it. College is all about experimentation. I kissed a girl the other night and I liked it. Go for it.”
I did a double-take. “Is there something else you need to tell me?”
Chrissie laughed. ”I’m not saying I'm switching teams. I'm just saying it was nice. Girls have soft lips,” she said, puckering for effect. “And they smell nice.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, returning to my own crisis before I had a mild freak out that my best friend was out there smooching on girls. “What am I going to do about Oz? He thinks we're going to be a thing, which we absolutely are not.”
“I think you're getting ahead of yourself. Maybe he just enjoyed whatever happened and you guys can just go back to whatever it is you had before.”
“We didn't have anything before.”
“Well, go back to that, then.”
“But I think he wants more.”
“Do you want more?”
“Of course not.” Maybe?
Chrissie pinned me with her gaze. "I hear you saying the words but your expression tells me something different. Are you doing that girl thing where you say one thing but you mean another? Because right now I'm really confused."
"I'm just saying I don't know what came over me last night. I guess I was really horny and he called at the right moment. We all know that fantasies never really mean anything. If I have a fantasy about being double teamed by Thor and Loki that doesn't mean I'm looking to show up at a cosplay convention hoping to make that happen, right? Exactly. No, fantasies are fantasies for a reason. They stay in our heads so we can pull them out of our mental porn box and then we put them back when we're done. We don't make them a reality."
Chrissie thought for a moment but added, “That may be true. Sometimes I fantasize about having sex with a woman but I'm not sure I would quite go that far. However, now that I've kissed a girl maybe that's not so far-fetched. I don't know. I think right now my sexuality is a little fluid."
“And that doesn't bother you at all?"
“No. Not really. Should it?"
“No I guess not. Gender, sexuality, nothing is set in stone these days. Do whatever feels good. I'll love you no matter what,” I said, a bit exasperated by Chrissie’s circular logic today. “Here's the deal, I really need to know what to do about Oz. I'm so confused. This whole thing has got me all twisted up inside. I never should've taken that call. I should've hung up the minute I realized it was him. I never should've let him pay for those Halloween decorations. What was I thinking?”
“You were thinking that you needed to rectify a situation that your pride put you in and he presented with a solution. I don't fault you for that but I think you're riding yourself pretty hard for being attracted to a guy that's good-looking, hot as fuck and honestly, he's probably a good time. Why are so opposed to just having fun with the guy?”
“Because he’s a terrible person,” I maintained stubbornly.
But Chrissie wasn’t buying. “And why is he a terrible person? Refresh my memory.”
“Because he uses people.”
“Everyone uses somebody at some point.”
I frowned, pursing my lips. “Are you Oz’s personal PR girl or something? Why are you so intent on being his champion?”
“I’m not. I’m just not sure why you’re so adamant that you won’t give him a chance. I mean, if you have a solid reason why you won’t, then, by all means, tell me. But so far, you haven’t given me a very persuasive argument.”
“That debate class ruined you,” I said, grumbling.
She winked. “No, it ruined your ability to just get your way because your personality is overbearing.”
I pretended to be offended. “I’m not overbearing.”
“You are but I love you,” Chrissie said, smiling. “Look, I don’t hear anyone complaining about Oz being a dick around campus. Sure, he likes to have fun but he’s not hurting anyone. I think you’re judging him against a pretty unfair yardstick.”
“He’s not boyfriend material,” I said, sticking to my guns.
“You’re not girlfriend material.”
Ohhhh, snap. My jaw dropped. “Did you just…damn, girl, that was savage.”
“Best friend duties include being necessarily harsh when the other half is being an idiot. I’ve watched you push Oz away for years and every year he keeps coming back.”
“Maybe he’s the idiot.”
“Agreed or maybe he’s just fucking crazy about you.”
That stopped me.
Actually the words kinda dried up and went away.
Oz crazy about me? As in, for real? Not the fake bullshit that he used to get into girls’ panties on a Friday night?
As in, real Netflix and chill, I’m-wearing-yoga-pants-and-a-bun kind of relationship real?
Was it possible?
Did I want that?
I shared a look with Chrissie, not knowing what to do with that truth bomb.
Seriously.
“I could’ve went the rest of the year without that question in my head,” I told her with a sour look.
She sent me a sweet smile. “I get to be your maid of honor.”
“I’m not marrying Oz.”
“We’ll see.”
Why did a shiver just fucking dance up my spine?
Holy shit. Things just got weird.
Chapter 8
Oz
I waited for Layla to call me but when two days went by and my phone remained silent, I knew she wasn’t going to budge.
The woman’s pride was epic.
