Page 19 of Texting the Wrong Bikers

Dash leans over, trying to read the screen. “What’d she say?”

“Nothing.” I twist, lifting the phone out of reach.

“If you’re sexting again, you gotta share.”

“Shut up.”

I type back quickly.

Kid’s got good taste.

I sit back with a grin, waiting on her reply.

“There it is,” Dash says dramatically. “Trigger’s emotionally attached.” Chief frowns, but doesn’t share his thoughts.

“Eat shit.”

Shadow slides bullets carefully into the magazine in his hands. “You are.”

I glare at him. He doesn’t even bother looking up—annoying bastard. Warm night air drifts through the swinging doors, carrying the smell of grilling burgers. The bright spotlights make late-night grilling a frequent occurrence on dry nights, and the prospects set up the grills earlier on. A motorcycle roars past outside, the sound vibrating through the floorboards. I wonder if I can use motorcycles as an opening into my confession, because the longer this goes on, the less I like letting her think she’s texting Gym Bro.

My phone buzzes again.

Also, I’m starting to think you don’t actually sleep.

Dash grabs another beer from the cooler. “Tell her you sleep beautifully. Like a princess.”

“Why are you like this?”

He shrugs, twisting the beer cap, which pops off and clatters to the ground. “No parental supervision.”

Chief finally sets his whiskey down and holds out his hand toward me. “Lemme see.”

I hesitate half a second too long. Everybody notices.

Dash whistles loudly. “Oh, he’s jealous. Trigger doesn’t want to share his toys.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Then why are you holding the phone like it contains state secrets?”

I flip him off but hand the phone to Chief anyway. His eyes move slowly across the messages. Then there it is again. That tiny almost-smile. Bastard. He types something before I can stop him then shows me the phone.

Maybe you just keep me awake.

The room quiets slightly because that’s the thing about Chief, he doesn’t flirt often, but when he does he can be smooth. She’s probably picturing some dude with one of those ASMR growl voices. It bugs me that she wouldn’t be far off with that guess either. Chief calmly tosses the phone back toward me. Sadie’s reply comes immediately.

She sends a blushing emoji, followed by:

Would that sound as good coming from your lips? Or are you only this smooth over text?

Something hot and ugly twists through my chest again because suddenly, I don’t like Chief getting the softer, flirtatious replies. I don’t like the idea of Dash making her laugh too much. I don’t like how Shadow somehow gets her talking about real shit in the middle of the night. I want to be that for her, to know all of her. This whole thing started as entertainment, but now I’m starting to feel territorial, and the others know it.

My phone buzzes again.

Which side of your personality am I speaking with tonight? Or are the boys there helping you again?

Every man in the room freezes. Dash slowly lowers his beer. “Well now.”