Текст книги "Things Liars Say "
Автор книги: Sara Ney
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 7 страниц)
Subject: Resting up and trying to heal.
Grey. Am I a commitment-phobe? The short answer: no.
Big plans for the week? Not really. Just more of the same shit, different days of the week. Studying, homework, studying, practice, and a match this Friday. It’s a home game—our first of the season. Taking advantage of the nice weather, because soon it will get shitty and we’ll be playing in snow flurries. Which blows. Speaking of which, my foul language doesn’t offend you, does it? I keep forgetting you’re classy and not some slutty barfly. – Calvin
From: [email protected]
Subject: Little Miss not-so-Prim-and-Proper
Calvin,
No, you’re swearing doesn’t offend me. At all. So no worries. Don’t censor yourself around me or you’ll exhaust yourself. Besides, clean mouth and proper isn’t who you are, and I don’t want you to pretend you’re something you’re not. Who are you playing this Friday? Anyone I would know? Grey
From: [email protected]
Subject: Assholes and away games
Grey, we’re playing a little school called Notre Dame. Ever heard of them? ;) It’s a home game, and thank God they’re coming to us. I hate being stuck for hours on a bus, even if they’re charter with DVD players and shit. You have no idea what these rugby guys are like, myself included. LOL. Bunch of loudmouth assholes. Don’t know how we’ve never been blacklisted by the bus company. I guess there’s always still a chance. Glad I can say shit like shit around you and that you’re not easily insulted. Gotta say though, if I watched my mouth for anyone, it would probably be you. But maybe that’s just the lack of sleep talking. – Calvin
Grey: Saw the date stamp on your email last night. What were you doing up so late???
Cal: Studying. We must have some of the same classes because it’s Contracts Law. Actually really love it.
Grey: Me too. I wonder sometimes if I should be pre-law LOL.
Cal: I don’t know. I think you’re probably too soft to be a lawyer.
Grey: What’s THAT supposed to mean??
Cal: You don’t have the killer instinct. I could tell when you were all ‘sorry this’ and ‘sorry that’ when I came to kick Greyson’s ass. You should have stood up to me.
Grey: And said what? What I did was wrong!
Cal: Yeah, but still. Most girls would have at least screamed and yelled at me for showing up on their doorstep.
Grey: Well then, I guess I’m not like most girls.
Cal: Yeah, I’m beginning to see that.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Dentist on call
Greyson. Okay, this week is already going to shit. We had practice today, and I almost got a tooth knocked out. Remember the guy I had with me at your house in the red shirt? His name is Aaron, but for all practical purposes, we’ll call him Shitbag. Moron fucking knocked me in the mouth when I wasn’t wearing a mouth guard, which was a stupid thing for me to forget. Definitely chipped my tooth, blood everywhere. Emergency visit to the dentist. And let’s just put it this way: it’s a good thing I’m only your fake boyfriend, because you wouldn’t want to kiss this mouth. – Cal
From: [email protected]
Subject: Face plant.
Calvin,
Does it hurt? I’ve only been nailed in the mouth once, and it was by my brother when I was 12. Which would have made him 19. We were playing football in the backyard with some of his friends when he came home from college for Easter, and he lobbed the ball right at my face. A spiral toss, full force. Nothing was knocked out but me. Laid me flat out. Fat, bloody lip for almost two weeks. My parents were so pissed. I still refuse to toss the ball around with him LOL. He’ll never live it down. Speaking of bloody lips, who’s to say no one would want to kiss you? I bet SOME girls get turned on by beat-up-looking athletes. Do you still have that black eye? That’s bonus points. Brings your average up considerably, and I definitely find that sexy. Grey
Cal: My face still hurts.
Grey: Rub some dirt on it.
Cal: I don’t have any. I live in a concrete jungle.
Grey: Poor baby.
Cal : >tear<
Grey: LOLOL
From: [email protected]
Subject: Nurse Greyson Keller at your service…
Calvin,
How’s our patient today? The lip and teeth any better? I hope Aaron hasn’t mysteriously disappeared, because that would make me an accessory to a crime. And then I would have to report you to the authorities. Grey
From: [email protected]
Subject: Naughty Nurse Keller? Yes please.
Grey. Wow, you would make the world’s shittiest nurse. I’m sensing all your sympathy lies with Aaron, and I won’t stand for it. We’re not supposed to rough each other up in practice. I swear to fucking God he’s pissed that I haven’t gotten Melody’s number for him. I don’t know where he thinks I’d GET it from, because I haven’t told anyone you and I have been talking. – Calvin
Grey: So now I’m your dirty little secret?
Cal: No, that’s not what I meant at all. You’re more like…
Grey: More like…? Come on, tell me. Don’t be shy.
Cal: Me, shy? Yeah, right.
Grey: Don’t change the subject. If I’m not your dirty little secret, then what am I?
Cal: You’re more like—this is going to sound really fucking dumb.
Grey: SAY IT OR I SWEAR TO GOD CALVIN I WILL COME FIND YOU.
Cal: Well, in that case I’m going to zip my lips shut.
Grey: Aww, you are so cute.
Cal: You’re not my dirty little secret. You’re my guilty pleasure.
Cal: Oh my god, that did sound fucking dumb.
Grey: Hold on. I’m going to pass out now from shock. That wasn’t dumb—it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.
Cal: And THAT’S ^^^ the reason I shouldn’t have said anything.
Grey: I’m taking a screenshot of that and saving it for eternity so I can stare at it at night when I’m alone.
Cal: Wow. Spoken like a true stalker.
Grey: LOL.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Worse than a bunch of women. No offense.
Greyson. My roommates are driving me fucking crazy. If they don’t stop asking about you, I’m moving out. Mason checks his Twatter constantly, looking for my name in your feed, and mopes around like a sad puppy dog when he can’t find one. It’s annoying. Could you do me a favor and get him off my back by throwing the dog a small bone? – Calvin
@Grey_VKeller Tweeted: The countdown to Gala continues. Thanks 4 dinner last night @calthompson3192 the poem & wine & roses & chocolates were 2 MUCH! Kisses to my big SWEETIE POOH #bestboyfriend
Cal: I hate you so hard right now.
Grey: *blank stare* Was it something I said?? I tried to use every available character #140
Cal: That was really fucking rude. They are RIDING MY ASS right now. Calling me pussy whipped. Hope you’re happy, you brat.
Grey: Oh, don’t be a baby. You asked me to send the tweet.
Cal: You know damn well that’s not what I meant. Who’s moving out of state and changing their name? >> This guy <<
Grey: Changing your name? *claps happily* Ooh, ooh! Let me help you pick one!!!! What about Chet Montgomery? That sounds sporty and badass.
Cal: No.
Grey: Allan Thouroughgood
Cal: Oh my god.
Grey: Randolph Christian Kuttnauer
Cal: WHERE the HELL are you coming up with these?
Grey: Those don’t sound regal to you? Or manly?
Cal: No.
Grey: I’ve got it!!! Dark Gray Keller.
Cal: LOLOL Okay. I’ll admit, that one was funny.
Grey: :) I try. TRY. GET IT? GET IT???
Cal: Honestly, Grey. What am I going to do with you…
Grey: I might have some suggestions.
Cal: No comment.
From: [email protected]
Subject: We’re becoming THAT couple ;) haha
Calvin,
You’re not still mad about the tweet, are you? Believe me—I got as much shit from my friends as you probably did. Apparently, when you publically call someone Sweetie Pooh, it makes people want to toss their cookies inside their preppy monogram tote bags. Or so I’ve been told. Multiple times. Jemma, your roommate’s cousin, has been getting the scoop on you from Mason, and now she wants me to stay away from you. Says you’re only going to break my heart because you don’t “do” relationships. Oh, and you’re a total dickhead. (Mason’s words, not mine). Oddly enough, I ended up defending you like this charade is real. What’s THAT all about?! Grey
From: [email protected]
Subject: Admit it. I’m growing on you.
Greyson. No, I’m not still mad. Actually, I wasn’t mad to begin with, just surprised. Want to know the truth? I don’t actually mind the teasing. What’s THAT all about? – Calvin
From: [email protected]
Subject: Bats in the Belfry
Dear Calvin,
Do you realize we’ve been emailing and texting for over three weeks now? Every time I giggle at my phone—at something YOU said—my roommates and sisters give me the weirdest looks. At this point there is no doubt they think you’re real. It’s going to make things that much more awkward when Gala night arrives. I cannot wait for this thing to be over. Which reminds me, pretty soon I’m going to have to publicly break up with you. Don’t worry, it will be mutual, even though having a real life boyfriend would have been handy last night. We had a BAT in our house. I swear to God, Calvin, the screaming coming from Melody… My eardrums shattered. WHAT? Did you say something? I CAN’T HEAR YOU! We must have called our landlord five times, and he never showed up. Finally, Beth, my other roommate, called one of the guys from our brother fraternity, and not one but THREE of them showed up—three of us, three of them. See how they planned that?—with tennis rackets, of course, like THAT was a smart idea. One of the brothers kept asking all these questions about you. His name is Dylan, and if he touched my leg once he touched it six times while grilling me about you. Or the Cal I made up. Anyway, he kept telling me about how long-distance relationships never work. I wanted to smack him. Grey. PS: The bat is gone. FOR NOW.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: Bats in the Belfry
WHAT THE FUCK, GREYSON? I don’t even know where to start. How does a fake boyfriend respond to an email like that? I can’t come pound some dude’s face in because he touched you just like I can’t beat your landlord’s ass for not showing up to kill a bat—and that infuriates me. I’m going to take a deep breath here and calm the fuck down for a second. – Calvin
From: [email protected]
Subject: There’s only room for ONE (fake) boyfriend in my life.
Cal,
I’m sorry I upset you. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. I mean, yes, Dylan kind of upset me, but he wasn’t doing it intentionally. Well… okay. That’s a lie because he was obviously hitting on me pretty hard and CLEARLY trying to badmouth you. Or the OTHER Cal. LOL. It makes me—I don’t know—happy that you care enough to get mad. Who knew that we would become FRIENDS? Life is crazy, isn’t it? Just in the middle of cooking dinner here, but I wanted to send you a quick note. What time is your match tomorrow? Grey.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Wasted man meat.
Grey. What did you end up making for dinner? I bet it was better than what we had—or didn’t have. We bought a few choice steak filets that Mason immediately burned the CRAP out of on the grill. Charred. Fifty bucks flushed down the shitter, and he kept blaming the charcoal. Our game tomorrow starts at 6pm, and it’s 80 minutes—two 40-minute halves, obviously. Have you ever been to one? This match is going to set the tone for our entire season. Aaron has his sights set on a professional team in Ireland after graduation and has a good chance at being signed. We’ve been friends since middle school, so his level of play is surreal, even for me. I love the kid like a brother and I’m really proud of him. I swear to God, Grey, if you ever repeat that… – Cal
From: [email protected]
Subject: Sisterhoods and Bromances
Calvin,
Who would I even TELL about your love for Aaron? My sorority sisters? The Twitterverse? Anyway, I don’t get why guys never want to talk about their feelings for each other. It’s really stupid if you ask me. A slap on the ass among men during a sporting event hardly a brotherhood makes. Wait. Did that even make sense??? Whatever, I’m not deleting it. Haha. You probably won’t even see this because you’re getting ready to rugby. Grey
Cal: Oh, I saw it.
Grey: You’re there!!
Cal: Grey, it’s only noon. Lol. Where else would I be?
Cal: And for your information, rugby players do NOT slap each other on the ass. Ever. I’d get punched in the face if I ever swatted another dude in the ass.
Grey: Want to test that theory? Swat someone on the ass and see what happens…
Cal: No.
Grey: Boo, hiss.
Cal: So. Got anything going on tomorrow afternoon?
Grey: Maybe. I don’t have afternoon classes on Fridays, so the girls and I might take a short trip.
Cal: That sounds… terrible.
Grey: That’s ‘cause you’re a party pooper.
Grey: Incidentally, if you had a drink of choice after your game, what would it be?
Cal: Um…??? That’s really random.
Grey: Humor me.
Cal: Probably a green tea lemonade.
Grey: Ah, a Starbucks man.
Cal: GTG. Team meeting in twenty.
Grey: :)
Calvin
I’m pulling the slobbery mouth guard off my teeth when I see her.
I briskly shake my head side to side, beads of perspiration flying out of my damp hair, and squint up into the stands, convinced my eyes are playing tricks on me.
Under the stadium light, among the SMU and Notre Dame fans donning their navy and gold school colors, Grey stands, her long blonde hair whipping in the wind as she makes her way, one metal bleacher step at a time, down towards the rugby field.
I shake my head again. Holy fuck. What is she doing here?
My breath catches as I blink in her direction—not just from being winded from the hard-fought game we just won. No. I’m suddenly winded from an adrenaline rush of another kind: Lust. Anticipation. Uncertainty.
I stand frozen on the sidelines, surrounded by my teammates packing up their gear. Another bead of sweat rolls down my neck and drips onto my already soaked jersey.
“Hottie approaching at three o’clock,” the team’s athletic trainer, Paul, announces. “Wow. She’s… wow. “
“That’s no ordinary hottie, Paul,” Mason announces, slapping a hand down on my shoulder. “That’s Tighthead’s stalker. Steer clear.”
Paul stares, captivated, at Greyson’s encroaching figure. “Why would anyone want to steer clear of that?” Lucky for Paul, he just sounds fascinated, not perverted.
Aaron stuffs a towel and sweatshirt into his duffel before joining in the mocking. “Holy shit, man. It looks like your stalker really is a stalker! Were you full of shit when you said she wasn’t stalking you?”
“Are you guys being serious?” Paul, armed with this new information, tilts his head and appraises her. “She’s a stalker? No way.”
“Stop being an asshole, Mason. And stop fucking using that word,” I growl, shoving him out of my personal space. Grey’s throng of friends lingers behind her, obediently up in the bleachers as she approaches me, her bright white smile lighting her stunning face.
A low whistle of appreciation escapes Paul’s lips. “Damn, Tighthead, that girl is into you? No offense.”
Shit. Fuck.
“She is way out of your league, bro,” Mason charitably points out.
Don’t I know it.
She’s gorgeous, and I’m a mutt, and Mason’s reminder pisses me off.
“Would you all just effing go away,” I demand with another shove, and he laughs, giving Grey a little wave before hefting his equipment bag over his shoulder and retreating towards the university’s field house.
“Come on, guys. Let’s give Tighthead and his girlfriend here some pri-va-cy.” The way he says it has everyone, including our coach, snickering.
“Fuck off, all of you,” I sneer, embarrassed and irritated. Several of the guys are avidly checking out Greyson, and that’s pissing me off too.
“Tsk, tsk. That’s not a very nice way to talk to your friends,” Grey calls out to me, and I hear several of my teammates laughing in the distance as Grey steps onto the playing field in those same wedge sandals she wore the day we met, her dark jean capris hugging her long legs. And are my eyes deceiving me, or is she eyeing me up with unconcealed appreciation?
“I didn’t see you smacking anyone’s ass during the match,” she teases. “That’s a tad disappointing. I thought maybe you were lying when you said you never did that.” Her eyes roam to Mason, who keeps glancing back at us as he trudges to the building.
Greyson’s keen eyes notice. “What’d he do to piss you off?”
She’s thirty feet away.
I swallow the hard lump in my throat. “He was being an ass.”
Fifteen.
“Well, never mind him.”
Five feet.
She extends her hand, presenting me with a large green tea lemonade from Starbucks. “The ice melted because I couldn’t give it to you sooner. Sorry.” Perspiration slides off the plastic cup.
Shell shocked, I take it from her while she continues gushing.
“My gosh, Cal,” she breathes when she’s standing in front of me, her hands reaching up to hover over my hardened pecs like she’s about to run them up-and-down my broad chest.
I hold my breath, but she drops them back to her side.
But then…
“You are amazing! You look so incredible out there, Cal. I swear, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Moving in closer, she actually goes up on her tiptoes and plants a kiss on my sweat-drenched cheek. As if she couldn’t stop herself.
I watch, transfixed, when Grey licks her lips instead of wiping the sweat on her mouth off with her hand. “Wow, you smell good. Like a man.”
Jesus H Christ.
“Um, hi?” I manage, fighting the urge to blurt out, What the hell are you doing here?
“Surprise!” Grey giggles, a delighted little twinkle that tinges the apples of her cheeks a pretty pink color. “I couldn’t stay away. The temptation to show up unexpectedly was impossible to resist.” She gives me a wink and shoves my bicep, her fingers sinking into my skin and lingering far too long to be accidental.
She prattles on. “Well, I mean I could have stayed away—but I didn’t want to.”
Down in my spandex rugby pants is the telltale twitching of an impending hard-on.
Fuck.
“Grey, uh…” I tip my head to our audience. My teammates are huddled on the far side of the field, avidly watching with interest, while her sorority sisters do the same from up in the bleachers.
She glances back over her shoulder and shrugs without a care. “My friends wanted to come down here, but of course I wouldn’t let them. You’re safe from the inquisition, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Grey runs a hand through her highlighted wavy hair and gives it a shake.
It settles on her shoulder like a silky cloud, shining under the stadium lights like a halo.
Mesmerized, I stare down into her large, laughing hazel eyes, darkened with black eyeliner and coated with a heavy layer of mascara. She’s wearing a simple white t-shirt, but it’s tight, and my eyes are drawn to the smooth bronze skin in the deep V neck.
Her brown eyebrows are raised at me expectantly.
Oh shit. She wants me to say something.
“Hmm.” Her hands settle on her narrow hips. “You were much chattier when you came to my house. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just—you want the truth?”
“No, I want you to lie.” Grey rolls those brilliant eyes with a smile. “Yes, of course I want the truth.”
“I’m shocked to see you. It’s one thing for me to ambush you, but another for you to ambush me.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, we can’t stay long. I have to get that crew of misfit toys behind me back to campus. A few of them are running a 5k tomorrow, and they want to stuff themselves with pasta.” She rolls her eyes again. “They think they’re pro athletes now and want to carb load. By the way, this is one of those 5ks where you wear a fluffy tutu and get pelted with color bombs, so…”
Again with the raised eyebrow.
I can’t stand it. “I know I’m being fucking awkward, okay? Just say it.”
“You’re a little awkward.” She crosses her arms and taps her foot. “But I find you very charming.”
“Stop looking at me like that,” I mumble.
“How am I looking at you? I’m not doing anything.” Greyson laughs. “I’m standing here talking.”
She playfully gives my tricep another tap, the contact from her feather-light touch giving me goosebumps and a goddamn boner.
The tightening in my shorts has my jaw clenching and my nostrils flare. “Stop flirting.”
“Why?”
Fuck it. “Because it’s making me hard.”
Instead of being offended by the lewd comment, Greys hazel eyes leisurely skim down my body to my spandex shorts, alive with interest. The air between us crackles and sizzles.
“Spoilsport,” she whispers, the disappointment in her voice palpable.
At that moment, I’m certain of one thing: this girl is going to be the death of me.
She tips her chin thoughtfully at me when I frown. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave. Tell Mason and Aaron your stalker says hi.”
“You heard that?”
“Um, yeah—they were practically shouting.”
“Sorry.”
“Do I look like I care?” She flips her hair and shoots a flirty smile over to my group of teammates, wiggling her fingers in their direction. They stare back at the pretty girl, transfixed, before several meaty arms enthusiastically wave back. “Could they be any more obvious?” Greyson’s laugh fills the night air. “They’re nosier than a group of sorority girls. Look at them pretending to be busy instead of heading into the building.”
“They’re just staring because you’re kind of nice looking.” I sound disgruntled.
“Nice looking?” Grey laughs again and reaches up to touch my jaw, running a thumb along my busted up lip. “Aww, see? You can be sweet.”
“Yeah, whatever.” A smile curls my lips.
“Alright, well. I’m going to go now.” She lets out a little puff of air and closes the space between us. “Can you do me a small favor, since my friends are watching?”
“That depends.” I cross my arms, one hand fisting the Starbucks, noting with satisfaction that my biceps are bulging nicely. “What is it?”
Grey notices too.
“See, remember how I told you no one knows I made you up? Well, it wouldn’t seem natural for me to just walk away right now. You know, without…” Her sentence trails off, and she stares me down.
I’m not following. “Without what?”
“A good-bye kiss, you idiot.”
It takes me a few to realize she’s being serious. She actually wants me to kiss her. This gorgeous, smart, funny girl wants me to kiss her.
“You’re asking me to kiss you.” It’s a statement, not a question. “I have stitches in my lip.”
“Do the stitches bother you? It doesn’t have to be real—just one for show. If you can stand to put your lips near me.”
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. I think I can manage.”
Her eyes shine. “Put the cup down.”
The air crackles around us like unharnessed electricity. Bending slowly, I do as I’m told, setting the green tea lemonade on the playing field.
“Well? Get closer, you shameless hussy. Unless you’re afraid to get dirty.”
“I’m not afraid to get dirty if you’re not.”
“Would you stop saying shit like that? Jesus.” I grasp her arm, tugging her into my damp, mud-stained rugby jersey, trailing my calloused hands up her smooth arms. Grey sighs and leans into me, returning the favor. The tips of her fingers start at my wrists, tracing their way up the sensitive skin of my underarms. She flattens her palms and closes them around the corded muscles of my flexed biceps.
Her breasts press against my sweat-soaked chest.
My cock gets harder, and any intentions of a chaste good-bye kiss go up in smoke as my hormones rage inside me like a wildfire.
I gently cup her neck in my large palms, kneading the nape and cradling her jaw when her head lists to one side with a moan.
My fingers find themselves threaded through her thick, silk-spun hair.
Bodies drawn together as if by necessity, our hot lips press together, softly at first. Tentatively. I hesitate a few seconds, inhaling to harness my raging testosterone levels, and begin pulling away.
“Wait.” Grey’s delicate hands gently glide up my biceps to my shoulders, her index finger tracing my square jawline, then the lobe of an ear. “Don’t back away yet. Please.”
Without thinking, I grab her wrist and roll my head, bringing her palm to my mouth and planting a wet kiss there. I kiss the tips of her fingers and her palm, running my nose along the velvety skin of her wrist and inhaling the musky smell of her perfume.
Her lips part as she watches me, her pupils dilated.
“God, Grey.”
Our foreheads touch. The tips of our noses follow.
A few millimeters closer and our lips part. Mouths touch. Tongues meet.
“Kiss me, Cal,” Grey begs against my mouth, her voice a whisper in the breeze. “Kiss me.”
Fuck it. I’m going all in.
I snake my arms around her waist and haul her in, so flush with her body that I’m cradled in between her legs. I groan. She moans, and her hands travel south, down over my firm ass, squeezing it through my thin shorts.
Holy shit, yes.
I lose half my brain cells in that moment—then the rest—when she sucks my tongue farther into her mouth, like she’s actually enjoying herself. Her tongue darts out, licking along the deep cut on my lip.
I give her a few more kisses before I tighten my grip on her arms and, regretfully, give her a small push to create some space between us.
“Shit, Grey, we have to stop.” My breathing is labored, but so is hers. “Jesus. This is nuts.”
“I don’t want to,” she pouts against my lips.
“I don’t either, but my dick is hard as a rock and I’m wearing fucking spandex. People are watching.”
As if on cue, my teammates begin cat-calling from the field house. Assholes.
She huffs; it’s adorable. “Okay, fine. But only because I don’t want to be called any more nasty names ‘cause I can’t keep my hands to myself.”
“Trust me, it’s no hardship,” I feebly joke, my voice catching when Grey runs her palms up the front of my jersey, tracing the outline of the team name screen printed there. I reach my hand between our bodies, adjusting my groin and jockstrap before capturing her hands to hold them still. “I’m going to be walking crooked for a week.”
Grey takes a step back, giving me a once-over and pausing on the bulge in my shorts before averting her eyes and glancing up into the bleachers as her hands fall to her sides. She swallows hard and clears her throat. “You played great tonight, Cal. I’m proud of you.”
“Grey, why…”
“Yes?”
“…are you here?”
We stare at one another, and I know by the expression on her face that she’s doing what I’m doing: memorizing every line in my face, every curve of my body.
Just in case we… just in case this is the last time.
And there goes that crack and sizzle.
Grey closes the gap between us. Slowly, her soft lips press against my mouth, tenderly resting there. “You know why I’m here, Cal Thompson.”
She turns reluctantly, glancing back at me at least a half dozen times as I watch her go.
I don’t how long I stood there.
Cal: I’m sorry I manhandled you tonight.
Grey: If I remember correctly, I did basically TELL you to kiss me, so in a way, I was doing the manhandling. For the sake of my friends, of course. And my charade.
Cal: Of course.
Grey: For the sake of science?
Cal: That sounds even less plausible.
Grey: Fine, don’t believe me.
Cal: Fine, I won’t.
@Grey_VKeller Tweeted: @tightheadthompson you sexy sexy beast
Cal: I know you did NOT just tweet that shit.
Grey: Are getting teased again by your friends? Come on, it can’t be that bad.
Cal: Is this all just a joke to you? A sorority prank?
Grey: Is WHAT a joke???
Cal: Sexy sexy beast? Seriously, WHAT THE FUCK, GREYSON?
Grey: WHY ARE YOU SO PISSED OFF?! CALM DOWN
Cal: You can’t say shit like that. It makes you sound like a goddamn…
Grey: A goddamn WHAT
Cal: Forget it. Just don’t say shit like that.
Grey: I will NOT forget it. Tell me what your freaking problem is.
Grey: And for the record, you overreacting jackass, I MEANT IT.
Cal: Oh.
Grey: Oh?
Grey: Hello? You there?
Grey: Cal?
Grey: Okay then.
