Damon
Damon:Hey, where were you? I looked for you afterwards.
The sharp ping jolts me from my nap on the couch. I check my phone, and a smile spreads unbidden across my face.
Damon
I had to get Jeremiah home for movie night with his friends.
I tried to wait, but you were Mr. Popular, especially with those reporters.
Damon:Oh stop, LOL. Talking to two reporters at a high school fundraiser does not a celebrity make.
If you say so. Just don’t let the fame go to your head.
Damon:Ha ha! I definitely won’t.
Damon:Probably because I’m nowhere near famous. I could never do what you do.
I snuggle under the faux fur blanket on my couch, enjoying our back and forth. I’m so glad I didn’t throw this away over a hookup. Ouralmostsex was amazing, but…No. This is better. Just a couple of friends texting. On a Saturday night.After 9:00 PM…
Damon
Damon:Is it cool if I call you?
Damon:I know it’s late, but I’m ass at texting.
He seems pretty chatty to me. He must be wired. I get like that after a big show too.
Rather than texting back, I open the phone app and dial. He picks up before the first ring can finish.
“Can’t sleep?” I ask in lieu of a greeting. His warm chuckle crackles over the line, raising goosebumps I ignore.
“Busted. I’m still so amped from earlier today, and all of my brothers are busy with either their significant others or, in Noah’s case, wooing potential clients.”
“Oh, so I wasn’t your first call?” I pretend to pout, and he laughs out loud this time.
“I didn’t have to call them to know they’re busy. Of course you were my first call.”
It’s said so earnestly, so free of posturing, that I believe him. The tingle in my chest at his words is likely heartburn from the pizza Jeremiah and I picked up after the game.
“Well then, I’m honored. And I totally get where you’re coming from. Sometimes after a show, I have to go out dancing, or have a glass of red wine, or a nice, hard—”
I cut myself off, but still hear Damon smirk through the phone.
“Anyway, what I’m saying is it takes a while to calm down after such a big event. Wine helps, or chamomile tea, if you have it.”
“Or a nice, hard fuck?” Damon offers unabashedly. I hide my blush in my blanket.
“Damon!” He laughs at my outrage. “I was trying to keep us on solid ground. It’s late, and unless you’ve changed your mind since our last conversation, that train of thought is a slippery slope straight into trouble.”
“I don’t know,” he starts, the humor in his voice clear. “Are you sure it was me who asked to keep things platonic?”
I pull the phone away from my ear, and look at it in disbelief.
“Are you sure you haven’t already had a few glasses of wine? Or something stronger?”
He chuckles again.
