Page 109 of The Summer of Wild

"You think she'll forgive you?"

He shrugs. "Ingrid isn't like my mom. She's not harsh or manipulative. She doesn't make threats or guilt trip me. She's never demanded anything from me. So, probably not. Why would she? After everything my mom's done, I'd run in the opposite direction."

I click my tongue. "You want to do something today?"

"I was kind of hoping we could mini golf with Ingrid," Cash proposes. "If you invite her, maybe she'll come."

"You want me to invite her?" I guffaw.

"Yeah," Cash raises a hopeful eyebrow.

"Doubt she'll come, but I can try."

"I'm going to jump in the shower," Cash throws a thumb over his shoulder. "You'll give her a call?"

I don't want to. I need to keep my distance. But watching Ingrid reject Cash during a round of mini golf isn't the worst way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

"What?" she answers on the first ring.

"Cash wants to know if you want to mini golf," I exhale.

Silence.

"Ingrid," I breathe out.

"Don't call me that," she chastises me.

"Blondie," I try again.

"I'll play mini golf with you two idiots," she smirks, "but I want something in return."

"What?" I ask.

"Send me a nude photo, Wilder."

"What?" I furrow my brow.

"We need to finish our bucket list," she states. "I want a nude photo of you."

"I can send one." My dick raises to attention.

"I'm sure you can," she snorts. "How many girls have you sent dick pics to?"

"None," I honestly answer.

"Bullshit."

"I've never sent one," I say again, not caring if she believes me. "But I'll send you one."

"And Wilder," Ingrid's voice lowers an octave, "make sure your dick is hard in the picture."

I smile. "I can do that."

I hang up with her and lock my bedroom door. I strip out of my boxers and stand in front of the full-length mirror stuck to my door with gorilla glue, my dick hard as a fucking rock. All I can think about is how wet her pussy was yesterday. Tight, wet, and warm.

After Olivia-Sophia, I had a one-and-done rule. Sleep with them once, and then move on. Not that there's been as many girls as Ingrid seems to think. I don't date. Don't get involved. Don't have unprotected sex.

I snap the picture and send it to Ingrid. She texts back immediately that she'll be down when she's done getting ready.

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