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Meg: Yes, and we could add cocks while we're at it.
Miles: Only have the one. That not enough for you?
Meg: You know what I mean!
Miles: I'll get a sex toy.
Meg: Don't start. I have to go to bed. First midterm is at nine a.m.
Miles: Studying all night tomorrow?
Meg: All night every night.
Miles: Been thinking. Sure would be a nice benefit if you could take a relaxing study break at home.
Meg: Yeah?
Miles: Without ever leaving your bed.
Meg: I'm listening. Well, reading.
Miles: Text me tomorrow when you're done studying. For your reward.
Meg: I'm not a puppy.
Miles: You'll like it.
Meg: I'll consider it. Goodnight.
Miles: Dream about me.
I dream about finals. That same awful dream where I wake up late and arrive just as class is getting out. It doesn't happen. I'm early to every exam. I come home. I collapse, drink tea, study my ass off, and fall asleep at my desk. When I wake, my phone is buzzing with a text from Miles.
Miles: Guess that's failure. Don't worry. You can collect your reward tomorrow.
Miles: I dreamt about you.
Miles: Tell you about it later.
Cryptic, as usual. I try to put his flirting out of mind. I have an early test. I need sleep.
It doesn't work. I toss and turn. My body refuses to relax when it comes to the subject of Miles Webb.
It wants him. Whatever it is he's offering, it wants that.
I reply.
Meg: I'm awake and I'm all studied up.
Miles: You are a good girl.
Meg: And you're a very bad boy.
Miles: That's such a stereotype, Megara. I expected better.
I cringe at the sight of my full name. It hasn’t come up since that night. My thoughts go straight back to that awful fight. I was right here, desperate for one single fucking card to play and coming up empty.
There's the sound of a guitar intro. My phone is ringing with a tone I never set. According to the display, Miles is calling me.
