??????
MICHAELA: I’m here. *palm tree emoji*
West responded an hour later to say he got the text and wanted to call me later.
I’m lying on the bed in my hotel room when his name finally pops up on my screen.
“Hey,” I say with a smile as I answer the phone.
“Hi, baby. How was your flight?” I can almost imagine the vibration of his voice under my cheek instead of the soft pillow I’m resting on.
“Uneventful. But I don’t think Mia was completely honest about the ‘good deal’ on the flight Evie found. It was first class.”
I’ve never flown first class, even when Reverb first flew me to LA, so the high-end treatment was a surprise.
He whistles into the phone. “Living that rock star life, huh?”
“Oh yeah.” I snort a laugh. “Total rock star. Currently watching a daytime talk show in my hotel room.”
“Resting up for a wild night on the town?” His tone is mostly teasing, but I also catch hints of uncertainty underneath.
“If a wild night is room service and a bubble bath, you know it.”
“You’re not meeting up with friends?”
“Mia’s still on location, and since she’s my only friend, that would be a big fat no.”
“I’m your friend,” he reminds me.
“You’re more than my friend,” I tell him.
“Oh yeah? What am I?”
“My best friend.” My confession is a whisper into the phone.
“Your best friend?” he asks. “I like the term boyfriend better.”
“Are you my boyfriend?”
“Damn straight,” he growls, and desire throbs to life in my core.
“It seems weird to call you my boyfriend.” I wrinkle my nose at the term. West is so much more than that.
“What would you call me then?” he asks, and I squeeze my thighs together at the tone in his voice.
“I-I don’t know.” I search for a word that might better fit, but none comes to mind. “Boyfriend is probably the closest. Lover, maybe?”
He blows out a breath, and I lift a hand to my breast, the nipple hard against my palm even through the material of my shirt and bra.
“And now I’m sitting in the school parking lot with a major hard-on,” he groans.
“Poor baby.”
“Tease all you want, Michaela. But you’ll pay for all of it when you get back here on Thursday,” he warns.
“Is that a threat?” I ask, breathless as my panties go from damp to soaked.
“It’s a promise, you vixen.”