“I’ll see you after Mass, OK?” I rubbed his earlobe, and he smiled.
“OK.”
Taking him by the arm, Elliot nodded at me and led Scotty down the hall toward the classrooms.
I headed into the sanctuary and chose a pew near the back that wasn’t too crowded. Pulling my phone from my jacket pocket, I made sure the sound was off, and couldn’t resist glancing at Jillian’s thread from last ni
ght. I looked over both shoulders before tapping her name, feeling heat in my face. Scrolling through it, I felt the heat in other places, and the crotch of my pants grew tight.
Jesus, put the phone away before a bolt of lightning strikes you. You’re probably going to hell as it is.
As the first notes of the opening hymn rang out, I dropped the phone back into my pocket and stood, trying to adjust my pants as stealthily as possible. But it was no use. I spent the entire service thinking about fucking Jillian Nixon in every possible position (and some impossible ones), and the only thing I prayed for was that no one would notice the massive erection I had.
Oh yeah. I was going to hell for sure.
But it might be worth it.
On Sunday, I slept until nine—a huge luxury for me—and went over to Natalie and Miles’s house for brunch. After that, I drove Skylar and Sebastian to the airport, where they’d catch a quick flight to Detroit, and then another to Cancun for a week. I admit, I felt a pang of envy seeing them off, but who wouldn’t? I blamed that on the fact that I hadn’t taken a vacation in forever, and I promised myself I’d take a trip somewhere in the next year, even if it was just a spa weekend with my sisters.
When I got home, I did some laundry, caught up on some paperwork, did some studying for the activities and tests I’d need to take to keep my board certifications, and took a power walk through the neighborhood.
Number of times I thought about Levi Brooks throughout the day: approximately one billion.
Number of times I read through our sext thread: at least one hundred.
Number of times I got myself off in my post-walk shower thinking about him: just one.
But it was a good one—I was glad the bathroom window was closed.
Afterward, I was putting my pajamas on when I heard my phone buzz on the nightstand. I glanced at it—Levi Brooks calling.
I tugged my shirt over my head and accepted the call. “Hello?”
“Hi.”
“Hi. How are you?”
“Good. You?”
“Good. I just got out of the shower.” Thanks for the orgasm. I jumped on the bed and criss-crossed my legs, which were clad in blue and pink plaid flannel pants. “I was a little sweaty after a walk.”
“Do you have a dog?”
“No, it’s just me here. What about you? Dog? Cat? Potbellied pig?”
“Nope. Just an eight-year-old boy and a thirty-two-year-old man here. That’s enough animal for one house.”
I laughed. “Maybe you’re right.”
“How was your day?”
“Good. I had brunch with my family at Natalie’s this morning. Took Skylar and Sebastian to the airport. Did some work this afternoon. How was yours?”
“Really good, actually. Church and then the park, where there was only one minor meltdown over an ambulance siren and he actually played on the swings with a few kids. Then a few errands. I am a little tired today, though. I went to bed kinda late last night.”
I smiled. “I’d say I was sorry, but…”
“Don’t you dare. So what are your plans for this week?”