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I could see the little bubble that indicated she was typing. Her message was a picture.
Of her perfect boobs.
“Fuck,” I groaned.
Don’t you dare save that. Delete it now! she demanded instantly.
I grinned as I tapped out my response.
Or what?
“Dude, stop doing your hair and come on!” Kyle yelled up the stairs.
Meg hadn’t replied yet, but I knew Kyle would come up here if I didn’t get a move on. I tucked the phone in my pocket and joined Kyle by the door.
“What took you so long?” he griped as I followed him to his truck with my tackle box and fishing rod.
My phone dinged in my pocket. I pulled it out and had to smother the smile.
Trust me; you’re going to want to find out.
“Put your phone away, man. You can text whatever bitch you have on a string later,” Kyle joked.
“Yeah, yeah. Just give me a sec,” I said, typing out one last message before putting my phone away.
I miss more than your tits. I miss you.
**
It was a bad day for fishing. Nothing was biting, and Kyle lost an entire tub of bait, which put him in a shitty mood. To make matters worse, I checked my phone several times over the next few hours, and Meg never replied to my last text even though the message had been read right after I sent it. The words I miss you burned into my retinas, reminding me of what a dumbass I was.
She had made it clear that this was meant to be a sex-only arrangement. Meg had been very, very specific in that regard. Telling her I missed her was definitely steering the ship into relationship territory. Why had I texted that? I was such a fucking moron.
I sounded like a pussy-whipped asshat. And one thing I wouldn’t be was a pussy-whipped asshat.No way would Meg be the one in control of this situation. No way would I let her think I was spending the day obsessing over why she hadn’t responded to my stupid message.
Even if I was.
Maybe I was a pussy-whipped asshat.
Kyle and I called our fishing trip quits around three when neither of us had caught more than a tiny Trout.
“I’ll grab a quick shower and head over after hitting the store,” I told him as I got out of the truck after he dropped me home.
“People are showing up around five. So don’t take too long in the shower this time,” Kyle warned with a smirk.
“Fuck off, Web.”
Kyle pulled away from the curb, and I made my way into the house. I noticed that Mrs. Hamilton wasn’t out in her garden like she normally was. My neighbor was like clockwork, her routine never deviating, and she spent every weekend afternoon tending to her rose bushes. Even though I didn’t have a lot of time to get over to Kyle’s, I knew I should check on Mrs. Hamilton. I jogged up to her drive and rang her doorbell.
Several minutes went by before the door creaked open. Right away, I noticed her skin was ashy, and her eyes bloodshot.
“Hello, Adam. What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice thin and tired.
I frowned. “You weren’t in your garden. Are you feeling okay?” She seemed to be propping herself up against the door as if she didn’t have the strength to stand on her own.
Mrs. Hamilton waved away my comment. “I’m fine. Just a little under the weather. You don’t need to worry about me.” She reached out and patted my cheek as if I were five years old. “But bless you for being concerned.”
“Can I get you anything? I can make you some soup or run to the store if there’s something you’d like,” I offered, not liking how vacant she seemed.
Mrs. Hamilton shook her head. “No, no. I’m perfectly fine. I’ll call Daniel if I need anything.”
That didn’t instill much confidence. “How about I check on you when I get home tonight.”
Mrs. Hamilton nodded vaguely. “Okay, if it makes you feel better. But I’m fine, Adam.”
I leaned in and kissed her weathered cheek, and her expression brightened slightly. “It will make me feel better, Mrs. Hamilton. You have my number if you need me, right?”
“I do, it’s still beside the phone where you left it.” Her eyes sparkled a bit, and I felt better about leaving her alone.
“Don’t do doing anything wild and crazy this evening,” I warned, wagging my finger good-naturedly.
Mrs. Hamilton’s answering laugh was a bit more lively. “Oh, you know me, the partying grandma.”
I left with the promise that I’d swing by or call later that evening to check on her.
Back at my house, I quickly changed into a clean pair of shorts and a polo shirt and checked my phone a couple more times.
Still no message from Meg. I wanted to erase my last text just so I wouldn’t have to see the evidence of my insanity.
