Page 14 of Let You Love Me

Me:

Hotter.

Chris:

I’m guessing I can’t ask who Merry Beth Mayweather is?

Jace:

NO!

Graham:

No.

Atlas:

As much as I hate to admit it, I’m with Chris. Merry-whatever was before my time at Riverside, so I need some context. Give us a visual. How hot is hot?

Me:

Does it really matter? That’s not why I’m texting.

Jace:

Abso-fucking-lutley.

Graham:

It matters. It always fucking matters.

I sigh. How did we get off on this tangent?

Chris. I blame Chris.

Me:

Slim, petite build with curves. Long auburn hair. And she has these eyes, these huge fucking blue eyes framed by ridiculously long and thick lashes.

I sound like a sap. I don’t even know anything about this chick other than the fact that we go to the same college, she likes football, and has a little sister. Regardless, I amnotabout to fill them in on her peach-shaped ass or how well she filled out the tight little Wildcats t-shirt.

Jace:

You always did have a thing for gingers.

Graham:

True. Remember how he stole Brynn’s Little Mermaid poster when they were six? He had that thing hanging on the wall in his fucking room for YEARS.

Atlas:

LOL! That’s . . . Did you ask her out?

Me:

Not yet. She seemed a little spooked.

Chris:

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