A text from Kitt flashes across the banner, and I’m a little too mad at him to want to look, which is ridiculous and makes me borderline insane.
When are you coming?
That’s weird. Right? Isn’t that weird?
The show isn’t for hours yet, and he knows I planned on getting there closer to the start. I don’t see why he needs to know an exact time…unless he wants me there.
He doesn’t want you there. He probably needs something.
But he might just want you with him.
I type a quick reply.
Why? What’s up?
My heart is in my mouth as I wait. Turns out, I don’t do playing it cool well—internally anyway.
I’m bored. Coop’s a nightmare. Milo wants to switch up the set.
Okay, that’s kind of like he wants me there because he wants to spend time with me. Right? I’ll take it. But I’m not getting up yet. Just because I want him above, like, breathing doesn’t mean I’m going to let him know that.
Smiling to myself, I reply.
Sorry, busy. I’m in the bath.
It’s a small lie. I’m lying down. I’m just not in water.
Naked selfie?
I bite my lip as I read his last message a few times over. Kitt has never seen me naked before. The idea of it makes my body burn and not just from the temperature of my pretend bath.
I’m a good girl, Kitt.
So, be bad.
I consider what to send next when I get another text from him.
Fuck, I’m hard.
Holy…
Is it possible to faint while lying down? Right now, I’m thinking yes.
I press my legs together, but it only heightens the throbbing.
I made him hard. Again. He was hard the night he slammed me against my wall and kissed me like his life depended on it. He was rock solid the night he made us come in the cage.
You’re a guy. You’re always hard.
I said that because I might want him to tell me it’s not because he wants to get laid but because he wants me.
Not true. Are you sending me this pic? I’ll send you one first if you’re shy.
What?
I sit up so fast that I almost fall back down.
Oh my God. What the hell? Is he serious? Oh, please be serious.
Wait.
Kitt is very anti pissing my dad off, so I’m not convinced he’s sending those messages right under my dad’s nose. At the Christmas party, he didn’t follow me upstairs until after Dad had left to drive Cynthia home from the party.
Coop?
I send the text with trembling fingers and swallow bile. My body is ice cold. I don’t want it to be another one of Cooper’s jokes, but this has a Cooper prank written all over it.
My phone starts to ring, and it’s Kitt. Well, it’s his number. I’m not sure if it’ll be him on the other end of it. I press Accept and hold the phone to my ear.
I’m nervous. My heart is beating rapidly as I grip the phone so hard that the tendons in my wrist pop up.
“Are you telling me, you want Cooper to send you a pic of his dick?” Kitt hisses.
Sweet mother of…
It was him!
And he sounds pissed.
I open my mouth and quickly close it again. My brain has turned to mush, and I can’t think of one thing to say.
“Texas?”
“Um…no.”
“Um, no? That’s all you have to say?”
Okay, what’s happening right now? “No, I mean”—I sigh—“I don’t want to see a picture of Cooper’s anything. Your last message…I thought maybe he’d taken your phone.”
“Why?” he questions. His voice is low, and it echoes, so he must be locked away in a bathroom or somewhere like that.
“I didn’t think you’d offer to send me what you actually offered to send me.”
“Well, I did.” He groans like he’s just realised what he was about to do. “Fuck.”
In my need to save face because I can’t have him rejecting me again, I say, “I know. Forget it, okay? We were just messing around. No harm done.”
There’s a pause on his end of the line, and I feel the tension growing and taking physical form. My pulse is thudding in my ears. He’s annoyed because he thought I wanted Cooper.
“No harm done. Right. When are you coming over here?” he says. He’s reserved, and he sounds like he’s doing that neck-scratch thing he does when he’s uncomfortable.
“Er, I’ll get ready and have Ted drive me.”
“Fine.”
I frown and stand up to grab my leather jacket. “Are you okay?” I almost don’t want to ask because I can see it turning into an argument.
He had that tone in his voice. For some reason, I can wind him up in a second.
He clears his throat. “Yes, I’m great. I’ve got to go. Carl’s calling me.”
Kitt hangs up the phone.
Carl wasn’t calling him. Kitt just lied. He was desperate to get off the phone.
Did he see where this was headed, too?
How did we go from almost sexting to barely talking?
He’s so frustrating!
Being around him and all this back and forth and up and down is like being on a terrifying roller coaster ride, and the worst part is, I don’t even want to get off—the ride, that is.
KITT
FRIDAY, MAY 8
PARIS, FRANCE