30
Reyn
It’s worse when I’m bored.
I spend all evening kicking around the house, restless and full of too much energy. Even though he’s busy getting ready to ‘entertain’ a guest, I can tell it’s driving my dad nuts.
“Can’t you go take a run or something?”
I stare at him blankly. “It’s dark.”
He gives me this look like I’m the idiot here. “So?”
“So…” I say it really slowly, drawn out. “There’s this little issue where the HOA, care of Fucking Jerry, doesn’t like me roaming the streets of their precious gated community past—”
“Okay, okay,” he says, flapping a hand. “Then go do homework.”
I pause. “I’d rather face Fucking Jerry.”
He whirls on me. “Reynolds.”
I heed the warning in his voice. Pops hasn’t had any action in five nights, which is practically a dry spell for him, and I’m fine dealing with his ire, but sexual frustration? Disgusting.
My room is just as boring as downstairs. I hear Dad’s lady-friend knock and thank whatever deity is listening for the fact his room isn’t within hearing distance. Really did me a solid there.
It’s not only because I haven’t stolen anything in two weeks. That’s obviously a factor in my massive amounts of boredom, but mostly it’s the lack of challenge. Thr
ill. Adrenaline. It’s embarrassing how worked up I’m getting over this idiotic Devil prank. It’s juvenile, sure. But it’s also something to fucking do. It’s a risk. It’s something I’ll need to use my skills for, something that I can get away with.
Something I can help eleven other people get away with.
I spend some time going over the plan in my head, but I’m only a minor part of it, and truthfully, getting into the tech room is kid’s play, anyway. It’s all about time management. Instead, I decide to do what any bored eighteen-year-old guy does. I take a shower and jerk off. I really draw it out, too. Make a night of it. Show myself a good time. I think of Vandy and the way she looked in my jacket today. I think of how everyone saw it, and the expression on their faces—the awareness—is enough to make me want to sneak over there and get my hands on her.
I’m still thinking of that when I come.
Okay, so maybe some of my restlessness is because Vandy and I haven’t been alone in days. Whether it’s seeing her from afar or sitting next to her in the car with Emory, the result is the same: Biting, acute want. Emory is seriously getting on my fucking nerves. Always there, always watching. I know there was a time I was happy to see him, to hang with my best friend, but the memory is being all fogged up by the way his sister is making my dick hard, twenty-four-seven.
Breathless and too hot in the steam, I cut the water and dry my face, prepared to retire to my bed for a lazy round two.
But when I walk out of the bathroom, there she is.
On my bed.
In my jacket.
Alone.
I’m not going to bullshit myself and pretend a dozen different fantasies don’t start like this. I walk into my room to a hot girl sitting on my bed. In my mind, she’s usually in some kind of lingerie, something sexy and easy to rip off, but seeing my girl, dwarfed in my jacket…
Yeah, that works too.
Really works.
We stare at each other for a long moment, and I’m not sure what my face is saying, but she’s got this wicked little smile that’s making me think I need to lock my door.
I do that.
“I needed some air,” she finally speaks, standing. “Dinner with my mom was kind of…”