Page 65 of Play With Me
I slap my phone onto the bed beside me and stare up at the ceiling. I feel…empty. My ass and my chest.
He’s carved out a piece of me and taken it with him.
Fuck that guy.
I turn over onto my stomach and press my face into the pillow, trying to keep myself from spiraling, but it’s fucking hard when that’s all I want to do. It can be such fun when you really want to overreact. It’s not helpful in the slightest, but fuck if it isn’t a wild ride.
My eye peeks open, and I see my phone sitting next to me. I pick it up and continue my doomscrolling. So much scrolling.
So much Colton.
And then I find his socials. I open his feed and see that he’s reposted some viral video of a dude named Connor proposing to his boyfriend with a silly TikTok dance. Damn, seems Colton really is a romantic.
I scroll more and see someone who has him tagged in many comments. A beautiful brunette woman, maybe someone he’s dated before?
My jealous, obsessed heart pounds in my chest when I navigate to her page and see that she’s started a live video.
I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t join, but I do.
I stare at her face, lights in the background, the sound of dance music pumping through my phone’s speaker. And then Colton appears, looking very much like the playboy from all the online photos, and nothing at all like the sweet guy who left meon my doorstep. He’s wearing a suit and tie, his hair perfectly coifed, a smug look on his face.
And then the woman leans in and kisses him, making my stomach twist.
What the fuck is this?
What the fuck is he doing?
I look away from the live and send him another text, asking him what he’s doing, why he would let that happen. And I see him look down at his phone as it pings. But he doesn’t respond.
He saw it and didn’t respond.
He looks up into the video feed and almost seems to meet my eyes.
I stare at him, long and hard, and then close down the live, turning my phone off entirely.
He told me not to believe anything I see online. He told me, and yet still, it hurts.
He kissed someone else.
We aren’t monogamous, not really, but it feels like we are.
I have no claim over him, his body, his heart, so why does it feel this awful?
Thunder rumbles outside, and I glower at the window. Even Mother Nature seems to get it.
I roll onto my side and pull my legs up to my chest, my ass still twinging from his cock impaling me roughly the past few days, and close my eyes.
I don’t sleep.
I just think about him.
Dozing is all I manage, and when I finally decide that keeping my eyes closed isn’t helping, I roll out of bed and turn my phone on.
I can’t help it. I’ve been wondering if he’s noticed my absence.
He did. I have several missed calls, two voicemails, and a dozen texts.
I scroll through them while listening to his slurred messages. He sounds drunk and high. Probably both.
