by Max Monroe
“Deal,” she agreed, laughing.
As I walked out of her office, she added, “But seriously, sweetie. I was a little jealous. That orgasm must have lasted a good two minutes.”
“Three minutes,” I called over my shoulder. “It was three minutes and it might have been more, but I’m pretty sure I lost consciousness.”
I heard her laugh the entire way to my bedroom.
The second I stepped into my room, I threw my body onto the bed, my back hitting the mattress, causing pillows to fall onto the floor. My eyes took in the many nuances of my childhood stronghold. My parents hadn’t changed a thing since I’d left for college. Everything was as I had left it. Old pictures of prom and homecoming littered my desk. My graduation cap hung next to the door. And the pink and yellow flowered wallpaper still lined the walls.
It was hideous by all accounts, but it was still my room. The bedroom I had grown up in. The place I’d had sleepovers and gossiped with friends about our latest crushes. The place I’d had my first kiss with Stevie Jones, even though we were supposed to have been studying for our algebra exam.
Nostalgia was potent, filling my lungs and plastering a reflective smile on my face. So much in my life had changed from the day I’d grabbed my last suitcase and headed to college. I had a great job, amazing friends, and now…Kline. It was funny how two years ago, I’d thought of him only as my boss, refusing to see him as anything else, and now, he had become this fixture in my life, one I was starting to hope would be permanent.
The sound of a phone vibrating across the surface of my nightstand caught my attention. I picked it up, tapping the screen, wondering if Cass was getting ready to harass me about using the last of the coffee creamer and leaving a sink full of dishes before heading to my parents’.
The screen lit up with a TapNext notification.
TAPRoseNEXT: Hey you, how’s your day going?
I tilted my head, confused. Why was I getting messages from my account? The one I’d told Cassie to take over?
Turning over the phone, my mind registered the case. Not the glittery sparkle one I’d bought a few weeks ago, but plain, old, simple black.
Kline’s phone case.
Not mine.
Kline’s.
I dropped the phone like it had caught fire. It hit the hardwood floor with an awful thud and I cringed, wondering for a brief second if I had broken his phone.
But then the shock of the entire situation took over.
If he…
Wait a minute…
Is this?
No way.
NO WAY.
I just stood there, staring down at the screen and the profile name TAPRoseNEXT glaring back at me. If he was getting messages from my TapNext account, then that meant…
I gaped, my eyes popping wide. Jesus Christ in a peach tree, did this mean that when I had been messaging Ruck, I had really been messaging Kline?
My heart pounded in my chest, erratically enough that I was a little concerned I might go into cardiac arrest.
Slowly, I bent down and picked up the phone. My mind warred between my options. I could either do the right thing and set the phone back down and act like I had never seen it, or I could swipe the screen, put in his passcode, and see if it was really what I thought it was.
The only reason I knew his passcode was because I’d had to retrieve a few emails for him while we were in the Hamptons. He had remembered he needed to check on a time-sensitive contract and just so happened to be elbow deep in soapy water and dishes. So, he’d told me the passcode, and I just so happened to still remember said passcode.
I scrubbed my left hand down my face while my right white-knuckled his phone. I was sure the correct choice was to act like I had never seen it, set his phone down, and walk away, but I needed to know if what I was seeing was real.
Which was why my fingers slid across the screen and pulled up the TapNext icon. I took one glance at his profile, and when the username BAD_Ruck met my confused gaze, I refused to invade any more of his privacy and immediately locked his phone, setting it facedown on the nightstand.
He. Was. Ruck.
My hands went into my hair, resting on top of my head, as I paced my bedroom. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, the four walls closing in on me. I had been messaging Kline the entire time, without even knowing it. And he had been messaging me, but he didn’t know it was me.
But wait, he had met my best friend. He knew her face was Rose’s profile picture, but he hadn’t known I was the one to put it there.
Irrational jealousy and anger started to build inside of my chest.
Had he still been chatting with Rose after meeting Cassie?
Fuck.
I picked his phone back up and quickly unlocked the screen again, pulling up the TapNext app within seconds. My heart threatened to thrash its way out of my body as I found the lone conversation in Ruck’s message box.
I felt insane, completely off my rocker, as I found the last few messages and scrutinized the timestamps.
Relief robbed the breath from my lungs as I met the realization that the last message Ruck sent Rose had been before we had met up at The Raines Law Room.
Before he had met my best friend.
The edges of my anger, my jealousy, still shook my hands. I couldn’t deny I felt betrayed over the fact that he had been chatting with another woman, while dating me.
But I breathed through it, slowly talking myself off the illogical ledge as I set Kline’s phone back on the nightstand.
How could I be mad at him when I had been doing the exact same thing?
Of course, I was upset he had been chatting with another woman, not really knowing that woman was me. It hurt. A lot. But I couldn’t deny it made sense. It made sense why we would continue to talk, even though we were dating other people. We were drawn to each other, in every possible way.
I was filled with this odd feeling of relief, but it was quickly pushed aside when I started to realize the consequences of my decisions.
My world had officially turned on its axis. I was in the Twilight Zone and playing the star role in a weird, modern remake of You’ve Got Mail. The only difference was that I wasn’t Kathleen Kelly in this scenario. I was Joe Fox.
Holy. Fox.
And I had gone off script. I hadn’t planned a big grand gesture where I would unveil it had been me the whole time.
No.
Not only had I given my best friend free rein to message my boyfriend, I had all but forced her to do it.
Holy. Foxing. Shit.
Finding my phone on my desk, I dialed Cass’s number and went into the bathroom, shutting the door and sitting in the bathtub fully clothed.
“Hey, sweet cheeks, how are the parental units?” she answered, her voice too goddamn cheery for the shitstorm that was my life.
“Do not message Ruck ever again.”
“Huh?”
I shut my eyes, resting my head on the edge of the tub. “I fucked up, Cass. I fucked up big time.”
“Whoa, slow down, Susie. What’s going on?”
“Thatch isn’t Ruck. Kline is Ruck.”
The phone was dead silent.
“Do you hear me?! Kline is Ruck!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the bathroom. I clamped my hand over my mouth, realizing anyone walking by my bedroom would be able to hear me screaming like a lunatic.
I listened closely for any sign I wasn’t alone and was relieved when I didn’t hear anything but my erratic breathing.
“Okay,” Cassie started. “I’m officially confused, so please, spell it out for me in slow, clear sentences.”
I rambled on for a good two minutes, giving her the step-by-step details of how I had discovered my boyfriend was Ruck.
“What are the fucking odds?” she asked, sounding just as shocked as I felt.
“I know. I should probably buy a lottery ticket today,” I muttered.
“You realize what you’ve done, don’t you?”
“Sc
rewed up big time?”
“No, you catfished your boyfriend.” She laughed. “Holy shit, G, he catfished you too.”
“This is so messed up,” I groaned.
“You’re like two fucking catfish, sitting at the bottom of the lake, doing fish shit and stuff.”
“Okay, enough with the fish,” I snapped. “I’m freaking out here, Cass. What have I done?”
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” she placated me.
“Oh. M-my. God,” I stuttered, panicked and overwhelmed over the entire fucked up situation. “How do I fix this?”
“Jesus, Georgia, relax,” she sighed. “Stay calm. Act completely aloof. I’ll send him another message and nip this crazy-town shit in the bud.”
“What? What are you going to say?”
“For fuck’s sake, stop panicking,” she chastised. “I’ll say something along the lines of ‘I’m happily involved with someone else and I can’t continue our conversations. Have a nice life.’”
Okay, that would work. It would put an end to the confusion. Rose would message Ruck, they’d stop chatting, and the world would be right again.
Would it work? And is this even the right way to handle this mindfuck of a situation?
I warred with myself over pretending it never happened versus telling Kline the truth. But then I started remembering the many conversations I’d had with Ruck. My openness. My flirtation. Questions and commentary about anal.
Jesus. I cringed in embarrassment. The mere idea of talking to Kline about it had my stomach clenching in discomfort.
I just wanted to leave the whole Ruck and Rose debacle in the past. Truth be told, if I could’ve paid someone to bury it in a shallow grave somewhere in the depths of the Pinelands along with my stay at Masturbation Camp, I sure as fuck would’ve done it. Not that I knew anything about that sort of thing.
I sighed. “Could this be any weirder of a situation?”
“Well,” she said, deadpan. “Considering he had foreskin, Wally sure put a weird spin on the old phrase ‘Taking ol’ one-eye to the optometrist.’”
“Old phrase?” I snorted. “I didn’t even know that was a phrase.”
“Savannah would be so ashamed of you right now,” she teased.
That spurred a few giggles from my lips.
“Hey, I hate to do this, but I gotta scoot or I’m going to be late for my shoot,” she updated. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Cass. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Probably live a horribly miserable life trying to find your own way out of your crazy-ass situations.”
“So true,” I agreed, smiling.
After we hung up, I was so damn exhausted from the roller coaster of emotions that I stayed in the bathtub until I drifted off to sleep.
A throat being cleared startled me awake.
“Fully clothed, bathtub nap?” Kline asked, squatting down beside the tub.
“Would you like to join me?” I grinned and scooted over.
He didn’t hesitate, squishing his large frame beside me and wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“Fix my dad’s car?” I asked, resting my head on his chest.
“Yeah. Pretty sure your dad thinks I’m a mechanic now, but honestly, it was an easy fix.” His fingers found their way into my hair, running through the strands so softly I nearly purred.
“I think my dad is falling in love with you. He might propose marriage before we leave.”
“Don’t worry, baby. I won’t let your dad steal me from you.”
I laughed. “I’m not sure we’re going to be able to fit that giant head of yours out of this house.”
He wrapped both arms tightly around my body and slid farther into the middle of the tub, forcing me to lie on top of him. “There, that’s much better.”
“You’re too damn big.” I nodded toward his feet that were hanging over the edge.
“I thought we already figured this out, Benny. I might be Big-dicked Brooks, but your perfect, tight—”
I clamped my hand over his mouth, laughing.
He licked my palm, waggling his eyebrows.
“Gross,” I scoffed, feigning disgust and wiping his spit on his own shirt.
He chuckled a few times and then his eyes turned soft and he brushed a few strands of hair out of my face. “I’m glad you brought me this weekend. I had fun meeting your parents.”
I rubbed my nose against his. “Thanks for coming with me and being such a good sport. My mom and dad can be a little overwhelming.”
“Your dad is a riot.”
“He really likes you.” I grinned. “That’s huge, by the way. Dick doesn’t like anyone.”
“After you left the garage, your dad and I had an interesting conversation.”
“What was it about?”
“I’ll tell you, but you have to promise not to freak out or get embarrassed.”
“I’m not sure I like where this is headed.” My nose scrunched up in skepticism.
His index finger tapped my nose. “Just promise.”
“Fine. I promise.”
“Your dad asked me for a few tips.”
“Car tips?”
Kline shook his head.
“I don’t get it. What kind of tips?”
His eyes creased with amusement.
My jaw dropped to his chest. “Oh God,” I whined. “Please tell me what I’m thinking you’re about to say is not what happened.”
“Apparently, your mother encouraged him to talk to me about sex, particularly two-minute orgasms. I’ll be honest, I have no idea why your mom thought I knew anything about that.”
I shut my eyes and buried my face in his chest. “She heard us last night.”
“What?”
“Well, she heard me last night.”
“Oh, shit,” he said before quiet laughter started vibrating his body.
I rested my chin on his chest, glaring at him. “Thanks a lot, asshole. You and your Jedi sex tricks had me screaming like a lunatic while my parents were two doors down.”
“You didn’t seem to be complaining about my Jedi sex tricks last night,” he teased, grinding his hips against mine.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warned, poking him in the belly. “You will not get all frisky with me in this bathtub.”
He waggled his brows. “What about in the bed?”
“No,” I retorted. “I refuse to go into an orgasm coma again.”
He tilted his head, an endearing smirk highlighting his lips.
“Well, not ever, just not here.” I quickly backtracked because, yeah, no way in hell would I deny myself that kind of orgasm forever. I wasn’t a crazy person.
He laughed, kissing my nose. “Whatever you say, Benny girl.”
As the plane throttled forward and took off down the runway, Georgia screamed like we were on a roller coaster, shrieking at every bump, lump, and wind gust.
“Jesus,” I shouted over her squeals and rubbed at the meat of her thigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d never flown before!”
We’d both been surprised by the trip, a last-minute meeting with a vendor that wanted to go live on our site ASAP. It didn’t happen often, but when people jumped up and down and waved money around, we jumped back. This was one of those times and the reason we found ourselves San Diego bound this early in the day on the Tuesday after a weekend with her parents.
“It’s different on a private plane,” she yelled back, even though there wasn’t a need. I’d only had to yell before to be heard over her screeching, but she wasn’t concerned. And she didn’t seem tired either. I, myself, was exhausted from a weekend filled with Savannah and Dick. And Georgia and my dick. Truly, the D was everywhere.
Gemma, my regular personal flight attendant, smiled happily from her jump seat. Thankfully, she seemed rather amused by it all.
“Baby, it’s the same as a normal plane,” I argued at a conventiona
l volume. “Just smaller.”
“No. Nuh-uh,” she disagreed. “This is not like regular planes. Regular planes make you feel like a poor, desperate vagabond, willing to subject yourself to any treatment just to make it to your destination.”
“What airline are you flying?” I laughed. “Third World Air?”
She shook her head and smiled before looking out the window again. “It’s more whoopty or something,” she tried to explain.
“Whoopty?”
“Whimsical. Roller-coaster-y.”
I smiled and she laughed, throwing her hands up and pointing to her face in confirmation. “Fun!”
I leaned over and kissed the apple of her cheek. “I’m the fun part.”
“You are,” she agreed with my lie.
She was the fun. Hands down.
“You mind if I take a little nap?” I asked, knowing I’d need my business brain later instead of the current mush.
“Aw, Kline. My old man is tired, huh?”
I had to laugh as I nodded. “He is.”
Her body seemed to deflate all at once as she laid her head on my shoulder. “I am too. I feel like I haven’t slept in ages.”
“We haven’t,” I pointed out. Weeks of courting and falling and fucking had taken its toll. “Just snuggle into me, baby. We’ll both catch some shut-eye. We’ve got about five hours until we get there.”
She didn’t say anything out loud, just nuzzled the top of her head farther into my neck and crossed an arm over my body.
I breathed in the smell of her shampoo and rubbed the soft strands of her hair with my fingers. I wanted to stay awake and savor it, talk to her, laugh with her, soak more of her in. But the lull of the plane and the hum of the engine enhanced a pull into sleep that already needed no help.
With my eyes shut and heart full, I was mere moments away from a deep sleep when Georgia called my name.
“Yeah, baby?” I asked, my voice thick and sluggish with the impending doze.
“I’ve never been happier to miss sleep in my life.”
Ditto.
“Just one room,” I told the front desk clerk as she handed me our cards. My assistant, Pam, had, of course, made the arrangements, and she’d have had no way of knowing Georgia and I were following a one-room sleeping plan.
