Page 71 of With a Cherry On Top

Cherry

Online and didn’t text me? Should I be jealous?

A sharp exhale leaves me, part relief, part something I don’t want to name. I press my tongue against the inside of my cheek.Come on, Aaron.It’s something she says to every customer, a line to make them feel special, to keep them engaged. It’s smart, strategic. It’s her job.

She probably doesn’t even remember me. And if she does, it’s just good customer service, not...not real.

But still, I smile. Smile like none of that is true.

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I was looking through your pictures, actually.

Cherry

Do you like the new one?

Fuck yeah, I like it. She couldn’t look bad if she tried. In each shot, she’s perfect—sexy in a way that throws me completely off balance.

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I like all of them.

Cherry

Be a good boy and come in your hand for me?

My body responds immediately, a slow pulse of need spreading through me.

I can’t. I can’t.I can’t.

Cherry

Unless you wanna talk?

My lips curl up.Talk. There’s nothing wrong with talking, right? Nothing wrong with hearing her voice. In fact, Ishouldcheck on her—something her mom doesn’t seem too interested in doing. It’s the responsible thing to do.

Oh, who am I kidding.

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I’d love to.

A call notification pops up on my screen, and I straighten against the couch before answering. As soon as it connects, I mute my mic. There’s no doubt in my mind that if I spoke, she’d recognize my voice in an instant.

The screen buffers for a second before she appears, nestled against a mountain of pillows in varying shades of blush and ivory, her bed draped in rumpled cream-colored sheets that look like they’ve been slept in all day. Her hair is loose in silky waves, and she wears a thin-strapped tank top that clings to her curves.

She’s more Charlotte than Cherry. Relaxed, tired, smiling. She’s okay.

I feel better already.

“Aww. I don’t get to hear your voice today?” she teases.

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Sorry. Is this okay anyway?

“Of course, baby.” She leans back against the pale rose, tufted velvet headboard. The golden amber glow of her bedside lamp casts warm shadows across the mauve walls as she shifts so one leg folds beneath her, the other stretching out in front of her. “I just miss the sound of your voice.”

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