He shouldn’t do that. It was a one-night stand, but he wants to know.
Of course he does.
Heat curls low in my stomach, and I pick the phone back up despite myself.
I’m home,I type, then pause, staring at the words. They feel too neutral and careful, but I still send them.
The reply comes almost immediately.
Good.
There’s a short pause, and then another message follows.
I can still taste you.
My thighs press tightly, the memory of his tongue on my clit almost physical. I lean back against the counter, exhaling in a rush.
He isn’t going to let this be simple, and I don’t know whether I’m annoyed or relieved. I guess I’m not so easy to walk away from. Everything that affected me about our time together seems to have affected him the same way.
I type, delete, then type again.
It was one night.
His response comes quickly.
Did it feel like that to you?
I close my eyes briefly. No, it didn’t, and that’s the problem.
I don’t answer right away, and the silence stretches long enough to feel intentional before my phone buzzes again.
Didn’t think so.
My grip tightens around the phone. This is exactly what I didn’t want. I should shut him down. I should be firm and clear enough to end it before it gets any more complicated.
It’s already more complicated.
Instead, I find myself typing—
What do you want, Mason?
This time, the pause is longer.
Long enough that I start to think I’ve pushed too far. Then the reply comes through.
You.
The word sits there on the screen, a simple and direct thump to the center of my chest. My body reacts before my mind catches up. This is how it starts, if I let it. With simple messages that I don’t resist as strongly as I should.
I stare at the screen, my reflection faintly visible in the glass.
Joelle’s words echo quietly in the back of my mind.
Don’t pretend it didn’t mean anything if it did.
I exhale slowly, then type—That wasn’t part of the deal.
There’s a short pause before the response comes through.
