The Lying Hours Page 41

“JB?”

“Uh, yeah.”

I can see that. Hannah seems more like his type: flashy, outgoing, with light blonde hair and fire on her tongue and in her brown eyes. She’s beautiful, lively, and sexy.

And hard up.

“Why don’t you hit him up to fill your love tank?”

“I don’t want or need a hump and dump from some random dude, okay? My ego couldn’t take it. I want to screw someone who’s going to at least call me the next day so I can block his number.”

I return to the couch, sitting cross-legged in the corner. “Here’s a thought: maybe you should try getting to know someone first.”

“Stop.” Her palm is raised, halting my speech. “Now you sound like me. Plus, you know I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

“I know you’re not looking, but what if one finds you?”

“Not into it.” Her tone is dismissive, and now she’s actively ignoring me. Or pretending to. “No longer listening,” she sing-songs, focused on a magazine.

“Giant penis.”

The magazine gets tossed to the carpet as Hannah flies off the couch. “I knew it! I knew he had a huge penis!”

“All I said was giant penis. You need to calm down and rein in the vocal stylings.”

I’m laughing, she’s laughing—we’re so loud there is no doubt we’ll be getting a phone call from the property management to give us yet another noise warning. We simply cannot contain ourselves.

Hannah is hilarious.

“If I didn’t know any better,” I say after I can breathe again, “I’d think all you’re doing is trying to use different words for a dick in one evening.”

“I have a list. It’s very much coming in handy right now, I must say.”

“Why the hell do you have a list of alternatives for the word dick?”

She fluffs her hair. “I’m going to write a romance novel one of these days. It’s on my bucket list, and you can’t keep using the same name over and over for peen. It has to be different. And you can’t call it a man sword, or a shaft. That’s gross—readers would hate that.”

I’m at a loss for words myself here. “Uhhh…”

“I have other lists, too. Like for sex, and your downtown lady business. And a huge list of curse words.” Hannah sighs, content. “I love the internet. Did you know there are entire videos online listing profanity? You can spend hours doing that.”

“And you’ve spent hours doing that?”

“Just once, when it was raining.” Rain. As if that’s a valid reason for blowing an entire day watching YouTube videos. “Anyway, I have a folder filled with words. You can borrow it whenever.”

We have gotten so off topic, my head is spinning. “I’m going to bed.”

“Fine. But I’m not letting you off the hook—we’re going to finish this conversation later.”

My back hits my bedroom door and I lean on it, biting back a smile. Hannah might be nosey, outspoken, and inappropriate, but she’s also the best best friend anyone could ask for. So, when she brings Abe up again, I’ll give her all the dirty details she wants.

But for now, they’re mine.

All mine.

 

Abe: Thinkin bout you. What are you up to?

Me: I just climbed in bed. Hannah and I were talking.

Abe: About us? Haha.

Me: Yes, actually.

Abe: So she knows?

Me: Yeah, she knows. She won’t say anything to anyone though. I trust her. What about JB?

Abe: No, he didn’t come home this morning until we had to leave for practice.

Me: He spent the night next door?! Whoa. Rachel really pulled through. I wonder what favor she’ll call in.

Abe: I don’t even want to think about it. You girls scare me.

Me: Do I scare you?

Abe: Uh, yeah—you’re kind of dirty and mean in bed.

Me: MEAN?! How am I MEAN?

Abe: Not letting me come?

Abe: Cum, I mean.

Me: No need to be grammatically correct; I knew what you meant.

Me: And I’m sorry about making you wait, but I feel that since it had been so long since I had an orgasm, I deserved it. LOL I know that sounds so awful.

Abe: It’s been a long time for me, too.

Me: And JB has no idea?

Abe: Nope.

Me: Well…there’s going to be a point where he finds out. What then?

Abe: No idea. I’ll figure something out.

Me: Can you do it soon? If I have to spend the rest of my life climbing in and out of your bedroom window, I’m out. Sorry. It’s fun the first few times but the novelty will wear off, trust me.

Abe: I know—I’ll tell him.

Me: Should we do it together?

Abe: No. I was thinking I should wait until he starts seeing someone? Maybe then he won’t care.

Me: I don’t see why he cares NOW. He does not like me.

Abe: It’s a guy thing. He’d get jealous. Territorial. Like he peed on you already.

Me: That’s so stupid.

Abe: **shrugs**

Me: What are you up to this weekend?

Abe: I have a meet tomorrow.

Me: Where?

Abe: Here.

Abe: Hello?

Abe: Are you there?

Me: I’m here. I’m waiting for you to invite me.

Abe: Really? You’d want to come?

Me: What kind of a question is that?

Abe: Wow. Okay, this is awesome. It’s on Saturday.

Me: When does it start?

Abe: Eleven.

Me: I will see you there.

Abe: There are going to be tons of people because we’re wrestling Penn State. It’s a big deal.

Me: Are you telling me to get there early, or are you telling me you’re not going to see me?

Abe: Both.

Abe: But I’ll find you.

Abe: There’s a student section, but sit on the north side when you come in, with the parents. It’ll be easier to spot you.

Me: Uh…which side is the north side? Help a girl out with directions.

Abe: When you come in the main doors, hang a right, wrap all the way around, and go in through the north entrance. There’s a big sign above those doors.

Me: Gotcha. Will your parents be there?

Abe: No, you’re off the hook.

Me: Thank God—we’ve only been on one date.

Abe: I’d still introduce you if they were coming.

Me: As what?

Abe: As my girlfriend?

Me: **blushes**

Abe: Cool?

Me: Yes.

Abe

 

I was right when I told Skylar the stadium would be packed. Penn State always draws a massive crowd every year, but this is insane. It’s loud and chaotic as fans find their seats, the student section at capacity and the parent section filling up fast.

I stand in my warm-ups, eyes scanning that part of the auditorium for Skylar’s familiar brown hair and cute little ass.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me, dipshit. Do we need another pep talk? Is this about that girl again?” Zeke Daniels gets in my face, all up in my personal space, lips drawn tight. “We went over this—did you not follow directions?”

“Yeah, I followed directions.” I don’t elaborate, bending to re-tie my shoe so I’m not forced to stare back at him.

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