Getting Schooled (The Wright Brothers #1)(38)

Jason chuckled, and I had to clench my thighs in response to the warmth of that sound. “I don’t give a damn about that. I don’t feel like typing.”

“Well, I don’t feel talking.”

“But you sound so damned good, with your little late night sexy phone voice.”

“What?” I laughed. “I don’t have a ‘late night sexy phone voice’, fool.”

“The hell you don’t. Over there sounding like Girl Six.”

“Oh wow. A phone sex operator, huh? Is that where your paycheck goes, why you were acting funny about paying for dinner the other night?”

“Exactly. Glad you understand,” he chuckled.

“Mmhmm. You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question was that?”

“If you were still babysitting or not…”

“Nah. I was at my dad’s house when you called earlier, watching her for my brother. I actually just walked in the door about twenty minutes ago myself.”

I sat back on the couch, snuggling deep into the pillows. “And what are you doing now?”

“Talking to you. Duh. Waiting on you to stop playing and go ahead and swing through.”

“Why do I have to swing through?” I asked. “Don’t tell me just when I was starting to think better of you, you’re gonna prove yourself to be the bum ass dude I thought you were?”

He chuckled. “Damn, I gotta be a bum though?”

“Mmhmm.” I rolled over onto my side. “Why should I have to go out in the cold? If you wanna see me, you can come to me.”

“Oh, it’s like that?”

“Yeah, it’s like that.”

There were a few seconds of silence, and then he said, “Aiight. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

Wait, what?!

“Have you eaten yet? It’s kinda late, you probably already had dinner, huh?”

Oh shit, he’s serious!

I jumped up from my spot on the couch, nearly tripping over the ottoman as I looked around, making sure my house was clean enough for company. “Umm… no, actually.” I really hadn’t, but I was hoping he’d offer to stop and grab something, which would give me a little more time to prepare.

“Cool,” he said, already sounding like he’d gotten up and started moving. “I’ll bring you some of me and Bri’s spaghetti. I mean, it’s the least I can do since you did help.”

“Uh, yeah. That would be cool.”

Silence again. And then, “Just so we’re on the same page… I’m not like, expecting anything from you, once I’m there.”

“I didn’t think you were, but… I appreciate you wanting to be clear.”

“Yeah. Aiight so… thirty minutes?”

I looked around at my already spotless apartment, then my clean, well-moisturized skin and neatly painted toenails from my little binge earlier, when I was trying to avoid my phone.

“Yeah. Thirty minutes.”





eleven.





“I should make your ass wait outside.”

I grinned at Reese as she stood in her doorway, arms crossed, looking comfortable and collegiate in an oversized blue Blakewood State University hoodie. Little by little, she was blowing my initial perception of her out of the way. I would have bet money that knowing I was coming by, she would have gotten dressed up, intending to tease. Instead, she stood in front of me in a hoodie, shorts, and fuzzy socks, no makeup, with her braids loose, hanging around her shoulders and face.

“Why would you want to do that?” I asked, straightening to full height. Reese was maybe 5’6-7” to my 6’4”, and that difference of almost a foot made her have to tilt back a little to look me in the face.

“Because you said thirty minutes, and according to my phone, it’s only been twenty-two. What if I wasn’t ready yet?”

“Just barely got off the toilet before I rang the bell, huh?”

She wrinkled her nose, and laughed. “Eww! No! Come in, it’s cold.”

She took the large Tupperware container from me as she stepped back to allow me inside. Her home was warm – in temperature and feel – decorated in purples, earthy grays, and eclectic wooden accents. I wasn’t surprised, even a little, that her walls were lined with the work of black artists. I grinned at the glass case of vinyl records, with a vintage player. A few of the covers were on display, all featuring the same group – her father’s.

“Shoes off please,” she said, closing the door behind me. She walked off toward the kitchen without looking back, and I called after her.

“I can’t get any help?”

She stopped walking and turned to me, face twisted. “For what? Don’t your fingers work?” She went back to what she was doing, and I tried not to smile as I bent to remove my shoes, and left them by the door.

When I went into the kitchen, she was pushing herself onto her toes to slide the bowl of spaghetti into the microwave over the stove. The little white yoga shorts she was wearing rose up with her, almost giving a peak of what was underneath. The bottom hem reached that sexy little cuff of her ass and stopped, then lowered again as she started the microwave and turned around.