Page 48 of Rust
As much as I want it to,I thought.
“Youdoknow how you’re supposed to respond when a girl sends you a nude, right?” Cale asked.
“It wasn’t a nude. But of course I do,” I said with an air of confidence, and hoped the subject would be dropped. But my teammates only stared at me, waiting for an answer, and the resulting awkward silence stretched into an eternity. “Okay, fine. How am I supposed to respond?”
“By sending her a nude of your own,” Cale said.
I laughed out loud. “Not happening.”
Dakota insisted, “You should send a body shot atleast.Because she’s sending out cock flares.”
“Cock flares?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “The fuck is that?”
“A flare is that thing you shoot into the sky to get attention—” Dakota began to explain before I cut him off.
“I know what a fuckin’ flare is, Dak.”
“Then you should know what a cock flare is. Basically, when this chick sent you that picture, she was shooting a giant flare into the sky for your cock. She wants your cock.”
I laughed out loud. “No. No, that’s not it. I refuse to believe that. She said it was an accident. I believe her.”
But Dakota was backed up by the other young guns.
“Dak’s right,” Cale said. “That was no accident. She wants to see if her picture made you hard. So if you wanna bang this girl, you gotta hit her back with a dick pic.”
I laughed again. “You’reallinsane. I don’t doubt this is the way you guys do things, but I’m not sending her a picture of my penis.”
Several rows ahead, Connor’s head popped up over the seats. “Walker, bro, c’mon. Don’t be shy. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed about. We’ve seen you swingin’ that hammer around in the shower.”
The boys burst into laughter, and the comments came from all over:
“What a wrench on that guy.”
“Yeah, Walks has an absolute rope on him.”
“Huge hog.”
I palmed my forehead. I couldn’t believe I was thirty-thousand feet in the air with a group of NHL players talking about my cock.
“It’s not my cock I’m worried about,” I said.
“No? Then what?” Dakota asked.
“For one thing, I’m twice this girl’s age.”
I don’t knowwhyI expected a plane full of horny twenty-somethings to understand why that made me and Isabelle such a bad idea, but I quickly realized the error of my ways when my teammates began to hoot and cheer.
“Solid pull, old timer!”
“What a wheel!”
“Fuck, I hope I’m still bangin’ twenty-year-old honeys when I’m Walker’s age,” Tank said from one of the rows behind us.
“Boys. You’re not hearing me. She’s not even twenty. She’snineteen.”
“Nineteen,” Tank whimpered. “Oh God, what a sexy number.”
Ugh,I hated to admit it, but I knew exactly what he meant—nineteenwassexy as hell. Isabelle wore it well, anyway.