Page 18 of Dickathlon

“Well, Mom, it’s true every year.”

I needed a drink.

“I’m going to get something to eat.”

“Remember, we have dinner tomorrow with the Campbells!”

“I’ll be there.”

I still couldn’t believe I had ever been in love with Ian. His parents, the aforementioned Campbells, were about as exciting as the soup I always thought of when I heard their name. I wasn’t quite sure how two people so boring created someone as fun and outgoing as Ian used to be. Who he was now made more sense if you spent any time with them. I was curious what woman would be able to tolerate that version of Ian.

I was unable to get that drunk before bumping into him. I should’ve seen him in the crowd. He was, unfortunately, still bangable. But he had changed his hair, and it had been long enough that I hadn’t recognized the ass I was checking out as the one I had fucked years before.

“Declan! Merry Christmas, dude!”

I let him pull me into a half hug, reluctantly. He had more riding on our pretense than I did, so he always tried harder than me.

“This is my girlfriend, Hailey.”

I held my hand out, but she ignored it and practically jumped me with a hug. I couldn’t do anything but catch her and try not to look annoyed with her familiarity.

“I can’t believe I’m finally meeting the Declan.”

“The Declan?”

“Ian’s told me so much about you. He said you guys were practically like twins, though he’s obviously white.”

Obviously. Gotta love casual racism.

“I don’t know about twins, bae.”

Maybe if he gained thirty pounds of muscle and five inches in length.

I couldn’t focus on all the words that came out of her mouth. There were too many, but I did catch something about dinner tomorrow, so I smiled then rubbed my stomach, miming my hunger. Luckily, she took the hint and stopped talking. Ian nodded, said they’d catch me later, and I made my escape. After grabbing a plate of food and a bottle of water, I was able to find a quiet corner to eat.

And check my texts.

I inwardly cursed myself. I promised myself I’d stop looking. After all, it had been over five months since I had given Tyler Hale my number…and nothing. I was shocked, to be honest. The chemistry I felt between us at the pool practically burned my shorts off. I had thought he felt the same way. If I closed my eyes, I could still see the bulge in those purple trunks. I spilled buttloads of semen since, thinking about that swimsuit. At the time, I had wanted to see what was under that lycra so bad, but I reigned in my hormones to focus on the reason I was there. And it had paid off.

But I couldn’t get him out of my head. No matter how many guys I’d fucked since then. The dude was like five-ten tops and I outweighed him by at least thirty pounds, but he caught then lifted me like I was a Disney princess. I wanted to fuck him so bad.

Honestly, his strength had impressed me and I wanted to see what he could do in the bedroom with that kind of muscle. Also…

Gymnasts.

Were.

Flexible.

Thankfully my plate was covering my lap at the moment. I could feel my hard dick pressing against my briefs. I really needed to forget him.

Fuck. This is why you need a friend.

I had friends, but after the Ian Experience, I hadn’t let myself get that close to anyone. And it was a moment like this that I regretted that fact because that person would probably tell me to put my phone away. To not open Instagram. To not click on Tyler Hale’s account. And to not message him.

Declan: Hey, Tyler. Hope you’re enjoying the holidays. Merry Christmas!

Jesus fuck, why did I just do that? I wiped my brow with my fingers, and looked around to see if anyone had noticed my utter lack of self-control. Because this is it. If he doesn’t reply now, you’ll know. I stared at the message, willing it to be seen. Come on, come on, come on.