“We’ve lost her,” Callie groans this time around.
“She’s in la-la land,” Lyla admonishes.
“Candy land?” I hear questioned, and that snaps me out of my stupor when I hear Clairabella in the background.
“You guys, I’m here. Geez, give a girl a minute to bask in the moment of the hottest guy in Shiloh to ever call me.” My nerves are starting to show. I’m naturally a quiet and reserved person, but something about Lincoln brings me out of my shell.
“Just checking, well I’m off to the parental unit’s house today. Something about Dad wanting to get the grill fired up for the Spring. Keep me up to date on all things Presley and Lincoln. Callie, I’ll see you and the princess in a little bit,” Lyla says in one breath. I swear that girl can talk a million miles a minute.
“Yeah, I’m heading to the grocery store for the upcoming week, oh joy! I’ll see you afterwards. You know Clairabella wouldn’t miss shopping for the world, even if it is just for food,” Callie responds with sarcasm dripping in her voice.
“I will, love you guys. Talk to you tonight or in the group chat. Whichever comes first,” I say.
“Love you too,” that comes from Lyla.
“I guess I love you two knuckle heads too,” Callie responds, we all click off.
I make my way out of my bedroom and into my living room. I do all of my housework Saturday mornings, because I like to be lazy Sunday, unless I get called to dinner at my parents’ house. That won’t be happening today, though, they’re out looking for new patio furniture in the next town over.
It’s too late for breakfast, which I’m thankful as ever for. The thought of breakfast food on any given day is enough to make me gag. My dad would always shake his head when I’d eat a sandwich or leftover pizza for breakfast, he never said anything though, knowing full well I get it from his wife.
I make myself something to eat and then move to the couch. With everything being done for my upcoming week, it’s time to binge watch a few shows.
6
Lincoln
I roll over and look at the alarm clock, my black out curtains not allowing me to know just how bright the sun is and if it’s shining or not.
“Son of a bitch,” I grumble when I see it’s well after two o’clock in the afternoon. I sit up in bed, grab my phone to make sure nothing is wrong at the bar, then I call the woman who had me tossing and turning all night long.
The ringing on the other line continues, when her voice mail picks up. I listen to her voice asking me to leave a message.
“Hey Presley, it’s Lincoln. Sorry, it’s so late. Call me when you get a chance,” I say into her voicemail and then hang up. I toss my phone on the bed, knowing if I don’t eat my stomach will keep growling, a reminder of how screwed up my hours are four nights a week. Another year and maybe I can bring a manager in to help rotate with hours.
Before meeting Presley, I wouldn’t have given two thoughts about the possibility of not working nights, but one look in a crowded bar changed all of that.
I hop in the shower, taking a cold one at that. My mind on an instant replay of every moment I had with Presley last night. It wasn’t that much but having the lingering feel and taste of her on my lips was enough to keep me distracted at work. Then hearing her on the phone, it had my mind playing every fantasy I could come up with.
Knowing nothing will make my aching cock from going down in size, I make fast work of my shower, dry off, wrap the towel around my waist, and walk back into my bedroom.
Trying to decide if I should stop by her place or wait until I hear from her, my phone rings.
Grabbing my phone, I see it’s Presley calling, “Hey Presley.”
“Hey, sorry I didn’t answer the phone. I didn’t hear it ring and well, I was in the middle of binge watching this documentary on Netflix,” she rushes out.
“That’s okay, I didn’t mean to sleep in this late. What are your plans for dinner?” I ask.
“I don’t have any. Sundays are my lazy days before I have to get ready for my week at work,” she responds.
“How about I pick you up, we can catch a movie and get some dinner afterwards?”
“I’d like that, but I need to be home before nine o’clock or I’ll turn into a pumpkin,” she laughs.
I know why she needs to be home at a decent time. Presley is a preschool teacher at Shiloh Elementary school.
“You got it, and Presley?”
“Yes, Lincoln,” she replies.