Page 43 of Shut Up and Score
Another message pops up, and this time, it slows my hand.
GoldenSpiral23: What’s your name?
My fingers hesitate. Not because I don’t want to tell him. Because I do. Too much.
But this is supposed to be anonymous. Safe. Easy. And that question? It feels like a crack in the wall I’ve built between this and everything else.
I let the silence stretch for a beat. Then I grin and type:
Me: That’s cute. But anonymous boys on the internet don’t get that kind of info.
Not yet.
Typing.
Pause.
GoldenSpiral23: Yet?
I bite my lip, roll onto my side, and send another message.
Me: Maybe I’ll whisper it in your ear. While you're on your knees. Or maybe I’ll make you guess. Every time I moan, you get one letter.
The typing bubble appears immediately.
I chuckle, tossing my phone onto my bed, stroking firmer, tugging on my piercing until pleasure radiates down my spine. Yeah, he’s hooked. Exactly how I wanted.
I flop back onto my back. My hips shift against the sheets, breath shallow as I wait for his next message, the pulse between my legs synced to the blinking typing bubble on the screen.
GoldenSpiral23: You’re gonna make me earn it, huh? That’s cruel.…And kinda hot.
I grin, letting my head drop back against the pillow. The praise shouldn’t hit as hard as it does, but it does. It always does. Especially coming from someone who doesn’t know me, doesn’t see the broken pieces I keep trying to tape back together.
Just this version of me. Just SmokeScreen.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard, already drafting a reply—something dirty, something that’ll make his breath catch in his throat—when my screen lights up with a different name.
Gavin. Up for a hook-up tonight?
I blink. The words yank me sideways, out of the fantasy and straight into the past forty-eight hours. His bed. His mouth. The way he passed out the second he got off, treating me like I was a warm body and nothing more.
Technically, I did sneak out without a word.
But still. My finger hovers over his message, not opening it. Not replying. Not tonight.
I flip back to the chat with GoldenSpiral, the ache still burning low in my stomach.
Me: Where you from, pretty boy?
I hit send, licking my bottom lip, waiting. Because I’m not going back to the past tonight.
I’m chasing something new—and maybe, just maybe, this anonymous guy with the filthy mouth and shy fingers is the one thing I still get to control.
ELEVEN
COLTON
My phone ringingyanks me right out of the fantasy currently playing in my head. My mom’s face appears above her number as it rings. It feels exactly the same as a cold shower, and I suck in a breath at the terrible timing.
