Page 32 of Falling for You
Me: Watch me? Now, who’s got the lines
Ronnie:No, you creeper. The show You. Haven’t you heard about it? It’s about a stalker…
Me:Oh, you mean the show that I use for inspiration. I happen to think stalking is romantic.
No response from Ronnie for five minutes, so I’m sweating bullets. Oops, perhaps too far.
Me: Okay, you can come back now. I was joking, but it was probably not the best joke.
Ronnie: You think? Lol. It’s okay, my dad was just telling me bye. He’s got a date tonight.
Me: So you’re all alone in that big house?
Ronnie: You sound creepy again.
Me:Can I come over?
Oh, shit I texted that before I thought things out. My uncle wants me to get close to her for his plans. My brain, my heart, and frankly my dick wants me to get close to her for other reasons. I guess the little devil on my shoulder couldn’t resist asking. Ronnie, at home alone, in her bedroom. My cock stirs and I mentally tell the sucker to calm down. Ronnie is innocent and sweet and does not deserve my perverted thoughts. I will go slow, I will go slow. I repeat my mantra in my head while the minutes tick by as I wait for her to respond
Ronnie: Sure.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Romance is dead. Nowadays, I get booty calls via text and they can’t even properly spell. I have a rule. If you aren’t smart enough to text for sex without spelling errors, then you aren’t getting any from me. It’s a weeding process- Sam
Ronnie
My arm pits are sweating. My heart is beating out of my chest. Fudge, I should have said no. He’s coming over and we’re going to be hanging out in my house, alone, possibly in my bedroom. What have I done?
I hurriedly text Sam.
Me:I screwed up royally. I told Sawyer he could come over and Dad isn’t home.
Sam:Ooh, honey get you some of that man meat!!
Me:Sammy, not helping! He says he’s good with going slow, but what if he gets tired of that? He’s older, more experienced. Fudge!!
Sam: I’ve told you before Ronnie the word fudge cannot replace a good ole’ curse word like Fuck. Just say it with me…FUCK!
Me: Whatever, you nutter. You know my mom didn’t like that word. Anyway, what am I gonna do?
Sam: What all wild and crazy teenagers do…have unprotected sex, get pregnant, go on that show Teen Mom.
Me: I’m blocking your number from now on.
Sam: No, you’re not. You’re fine, bestie. You got this. If you don’t want to do something, just tell him no. If he still tries to do something, kick him in the balls or I’ll kick him in the balls for you. You said yourself he’s a nice guy. Give him a chance to prove it.
Me: Okay, I guess. Now, what do I wear?
Sam: Now you’re talking my language sister
For the next thirty minutes we debate over clothes. It’s a casual night in, so we settle on a pink skirt and white top. The skirt is fairly modest, and Sam assures me I look perfect and pretty.
The doorbell rings and my heart skips a beat. Shit, I’m so nervous. What if I make an idiot of myself?
I answer the door and Sawyer stands there, looking like one of my wet dreams come to life. Don’t judge. All teenagers have them, I just admit to them. At least to myself.
His dark hair is slightly spiky and he’s wearing a white shirt and black jeans. When I lean in to give him a hug, I catch a whiff of cologne and almost fan myself. Dang, he smells good.