The Friend Zone (Game On, #2)(42)

“Sure.” There’s a noise in the background like she’s moving around, fussing with something. Ivy’s never still. She’s a lot like me in that regard. “So are you going out tonight?”

“No, I’m in for the night.”

“What? Why?” She’s so freaking cute when she’s irate. “You should be out celebrating.”

Smiling, I reach over and grab my headphones, plugging them in so I can talk hands-free. “I’m celebrating with you.”

Awkward silence follows, and I inwardly curse my big mouth.

“Mac?” I ask when the moment stretches too far. “You there?”

“Yeah… I’m here.” Her voice is soft, hesitant. “I just… I wish I was there. I should have been there for you.”

“You’re here.” My hand stops over my heart and I spread my fingers wide, pressing down as if it can ease the ache inside. “Now, I mean. This counts too.”

“Gray?”

“Yeah?” I whisper.

“Are we good? I mean, what I said—”

“I told you, Mac. We’re good. Can we just move past it?” Fuck if I want this tension between us anymore. It’s killing me.

“Okay, okay.” More scuffling noise comes from her side of the phone. “Grumpy Gus.”

“That’s Sir Grumpy Gus to you.” I smile a little. “What are you doing? I hear noises.”

“What noises?” Mac says in a stage voice that makes me smile full-out. “I’m not hiding a body, I swears!”

“Har.”

“I’m getting into bed, if you must know.”

Instantly, my body goes tight. It doesn’t help that I’m naked and spread out on a bed. It’s a strain to sound unaffected. “You want me to let you go?”

“Nope.”

Somehow I can hear her slide under the covers. The little hairs on my skin stand on end. My hand edges down to my abdomen, the muscles hard and tense there. I imagine Ivy’s hand running along my skin and suppress a groan.

As it is, a small grunt escapes me, and I hurry to speak. “I’m getting into bed too.”

“Jesus, you really are acting like an old man. Are you sure you’re all right?” The affection in her tone comes through loud and clear. “I feel like I ought to be pressing a hand to your fevered brow.”

“I’m tired, Mac,” I tell her lightly. “And if you don’t cut it out, I’m going to hang up. Would serve you right if I am sick and end up wasting away from some sort of Victorian disease. And then how will you feel? Knowing you let me go.”

“What kind of disease are we talking about? Like consumption? Or cholera?” Mac snickers into the phone. “If it’s cholera, you’re on your own, Cupcake.”

“Cute.” I rest my hand behind my head, getting more comfortable. “Mac?”

“Yeah?”

“You said it was bad. The sex, I mean, and—”

“Gray!” Her exasperation is sharp. “Didn’t we just agree not to talk about that anymore?”

I wince, feeling like an ass and cursing my big mouth. “Shit, yes. I know. It’s… Okay, fine, it’s bugging me. Not,” I interject before she can speak, because I can hear her taking an indignant breath, “because you aren’t having sex. But you said it was bad. And I want to know why.” My heart pounds against my ribs. “Did he… Did he hurt you, honey?”

It’s inexcusable that I haven’t made certain until now. And I will burn the f*cking earth down if he did.

Mac’s soft voice comes at me through the buzzing in my head. “No, Gray. No, not that.” She goes silent, and I take the moment to draw in a deep, not-so-steady breath, nodding even though she can’t see me. Relief makes me sag further into the pillows.

When she speaks again, her voice is low and tense. “It was just…Gah! The foreplay was awesome. I wanted it, Gray. Badly, you know?”

Again, I nod. My voice seems to have left the building. I don’t really want to think about some f*ckwit giving Ivy “awesome” foreplay. Why did I have to ask?

“I mean, I planned for it, went to the doctors and got on the pill and—”

“That’s some dedicated planning for your first time.”

She makes an annoyed noise. “I know. But that’s how I am. I plan. I commit. And I don’t trust condoms to—”

“You don’t?”

“To protect against diseases, yeah, but you do realize they have about an eighteen percent failure rate for birth control?”

I don’t want to even think about failure rates. The idea that little Grays could be out there gives me the willies. But I chuckle instead, wanting to change the subject. “Okay, okay, lesson learned, Doctor Sex Ed.”

She snorts. “I was sixteen. I did not want to get pregnant, and I figured if I worried about that, I wouldn’t have any fun.”

And that strange dichotomy is my Ivy. Insane planner mixed with a free spirit who goes with the flow. A surge of affection hits me, and I sink further into the pillows.

“Anyway,” she drawls as if to say I’d taken her off track and not to do it again, “I was all in. But then we got down to it, and he basically…er…”