Page 44 of Shut Up and Score
I answer on the third ring, already bracing myself. “Hey, Mom.”
“Colton! I was hoping I’d catch you. Are you with Jasmine tonight?”
The way she says her name is all sugar and approval, like she handpicked Jasmine herself—which, honestly, she kind of did. “Uh… no. She had a group project. I’m just—uh—back at the dorm.”
“Oh, well, I hope you two are making time for each other. She’s such a sweet girl, Colton. Your father and I just love her. She’s… good for you.” Her voice softens in that way it does when she thinks she’s being subtle. “Stable. Focused. Exactly the kind of person you need in your life right now.”
My chest tightens. I know what she means. She doesn’thave to say it out loud.Someone like her. Not someone who will make your life complicated.
“I know, Mom,” I murmur.
“And don’t forget,” she says, perking back up, “the alumni dinner is in a few weeks. We’re expecting you and Jasmine to come. I already told Mrs. Worthington you’re bringing your girlfriend, and she can’t wait to meet her.”
“Right. Yeah. We’ll be there.” My throat feels dry.
“Okay. You’re still coming over Sunday, right?”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Wouldn’t miss your home-cooked meal.”
“We’ll see you then. We’re so proud of you, honey. Keep making good choices, okay?”
I hang up before she can hear the crack in my voice and lie back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzes again a second later, the screen lighting up the dim dorm room.
SmokeScreen77: Where you from, pretty boy?
I suck in a slow breath. Pretty boy. Guilt twists low in my gut. God help me. If my mom could see me right now, she’d know I’m not her golden boy at all.
The message shouldn’t hit as hard as it does, but it slices clean through the fog in my brain. My stomach flips, heat crawling over my skin. I should close the app. I should throw the phone across the room. I should not be as hard as I am right now. Especially after the reminder of reality I was just served by my mom. Whatever I’m doing on this app right now, it’s not my life or my future. Even if it’s exactly what I crave.
I’m still staring at the message—still undecided—when the door swings open.
“Yo,” Caleb says, voice loud and casual as he kicks off his shoes. “Why’s it smell like sex and a damn candle factory in here? You watching porno?”
I jolt, jerking upright in bed so fast my phone drops to the comforter. My blanket shifts with me, and not in a helpful way.
Caleb freezes halfway to his desk, gaze catching the obvious tent in my shorts. His brows shoot up.
“Shit, my bad,” he says, immediately turning toward his desk as if it’ll undo what he just saw. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your little…moment.”
“I wasn’t—” My voice cracks. I clear my throat. “It’s not?—”
He waves a hand without looking back. “Hey, man. No judgment. Just maybe put a sock on the door next time.”
A sock? I think, dying slowly.
Caleb puts in his earbuds and flops onto his bed, muttering something about stats homework, and I sit there—mortified, half-hard, and still thinking about the guy on the other end of the app.
I reach for my phone again. My fingers hover over the reply field.
It’s a simple question. Where you from? Not even sexual. But it is personal, and panic blooms inside my chest. I know from his profile that he goes to my college. That alone should make me delete the app.
I could lie. Tell him I’m out of state. Different school. Keep the game going. Or?—
Me: Close enough to ruin you. But far enough to make you beg for it first.
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it. God, whatthe fuck am I doing?
Then I flip onto my side, facing the wall, praying Caleb doesn’t ask me to borrow my laptop or something.
