Aflame (Fall Away #4)(47)

Sorry about your party, I texted him after I got back from my run with Fallon. I’d produced enough drama over the past two years, and I always felt like I wasn’t carrying my weight as a friend. Madoc never cared, though.

Madoc: Nothing to be sorry for. You okay?

I grabbed an apple and jogged up the stairs, desperate for a shower, as my clothes were sticking to my skin.

Yes, I typed. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.

Madoc: You need to talk to Ben.

I halted, dropping my head back and sighing. Jesus. It was like he could read my mind.

I tapped my thumbs on the keys, sending my reply. I don’t even know what’s happening yet, okay?

Madoc shot back. Yes, you do.

I rolled my eyes, kicking off my shoes and hitting the power on my iPod dock, hearing “The Boys of Summer” by the Ataris spring forth.

My phone beeped again. Okay, screw Jared. Answer me this . . . do you think about Ben?

I plopped my phone down on the sink and stared at myself in the mirror. I wasn’t ignoring his question. He just didn’t need to hear the answer.

Sure, I thought about Ben. I didn’t think about him like I thought about Jared, though, and that’s what had me a little ashamed.

Ben and I hadn’t committed to seeing only each other, and we hadn’t gotten intimate yet. But I knew he wanted that. Hell, he’d wanted it in high school.

But we were dating, and if Fallon hadn’t walked in this morning, I would’ve gone over the edge with Jared, despite any obligation I might have to Ben.

My phone beeped with another text, and I looked down, almost kicking myself that I’d texted Madoc at all this morning.

Do you want him, need him, and live for him? Madoc asked.

I shook my head, smiling at my friend’s insight. Yeah, okay. So whether or not Jared was a factor, I still wasn’t getting carried away and feeling all lovey-dovey about Ben. Point taken.

Does he make you horny? Madoc continued, and I snatched up my phone again.

“Seriously?” I blurted out at his crass vocabulary.

Do you want to crawl all over him in the morning? he went on, and I let out a loud sigh.

Yeah. Shut up now.

I jutted out my thumbs, typing to tell him just that, when another text rolled in before I finished.

What the hell? Did he take lessons in speed texting?

Does he give you a lady boner? he teased. Make your loins quiver and throb? Do you masturbate to him?

“Madoc!” I growled at my phone, squeezing it tight. “What the . . . ?”

Why so quiet? My phone beeped again. Answer my questions, Tate!

Motherf . . . I clenched my teeth. “I’d talk if you’d just shut up, jackass,” I fumed.

He texted again, and I just slumped my shoulders, walking back into the bedroom, defeated.

Okay, real quick: Ben or Jared? he inquired.

Huh?

Ben or Jared? he urged again. Don’t think. Just say the first name that pops into your head.

My mouth fell open, exhaling a frustrated sigh. “Wha . . .”

Ben or Jared!!! he text-screamed.

My thumbs shook as I tried to type, but my brain felt like little electric wires were zapping every hair follicle on my scalp.

I squeezed the phone, trying to find the letters.

Now! he beeped.

“Ugh!” I plopped down on my bed, crashing back on the mattress and pounding the sides with my fists, giving up.

Jerk.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to remember what the point of the conversation had been.

Madoc was Madoc. He’d drive you crazy with fifteen questions so you’d figure out the answer on your own, rather than take two seconds to give you the answer himself. He felt the journey was more important than the destination.

Just like me.

I slipped my hand into my hair and rubbed my scalp, exhaling a laugh at the irony.

My phone beeped in my palm, and I groaned.

Gosh, you’re quiet today.

I shook my head, amused and exhausted at the same time. I brought my phone up above me, typing my response.

Very funny.

His response came immediately. Shall I tell you what to do?

Yes, I replied.

But you already know.

I typed quickly. Tell me anyway.

His text took only a moment. You tell the guy you’re dating that your boyfriend’s back.

I let my arms drift back down to the bed as I closed my eyes, sighing. Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too.

My phone beeped again. And he’s gonna be in trouble . . .

What the . . . ?

Hey-la,hey-la, my boyfriend’s back, he continued singing, and laughter tickled my throat.

“You’re on crack,” I whispered to myself.

I bit my lip between my teeth, and the warm sensation of anticipation started filling me for the first time in years. I brought up my phone and typed.

You see him comin’, better cut out on the double, I continued the lyrics, smiling.

He texted again as I headed for the bathroom to shower.

Very good, my young Padawan. Very good.

***

After I’d showered and cleaned up, I put on some old jean shorts and a black T-shirt to work on my car. Despite the lack of rain—my favorite kind of weather—the sky was beautiful, with barely any clouds, and the light breeze blew the fragrant summer scents through all the windows in the house.