Page 88 of Roleplay at Randy's
Why is this so hard?
My mood has been soaring since Lee and I filmed him bottoming the other day. Even got a boost when I had to sit down to edit it, and I may have talked Lee into playing withmyass while I did, which led to me sitting on his dick until I was finished.
Infinite points for a mood boost.
I take my spot next to Cal on the couch, shoulders slumped in defeat, because I have to be honest—I’m never going to send that damn message.
My muscles groan with the effort it takes to lean over and swipe my phone from the coffee table, but all I touch is glass. With a frown, I glance at the floor to see if it fell, but nope.
That’s when I hear one of Cal’s videos beside me, and I find him tucked into the corner of the couch, giggling his head off, while scrolling through Youtube on my phone.
“Cal.” I take a deep breath and sigh it out, then reach over and pluck it from his fingers. He pouts at me and shouts one of his scripts that I can’t quite make the words out to, but I know it means he’s not happy with my decision. “Your tablet is on the charger. Play with your toys.”
Calum crosses his arms and kicks his feet—signaling I’m no longer welcome on the couch. Which is fine. I go into the kitchen to pour a glass of orange juice just to have something to do with my hands, and then I’m making us both Nutella and banana sandwiches.
Maybe it’s a peace offering. Maybe it’s a bribe. Who knows?
After dropping off his plate and receiving one of Cal’s signature side eyes, I lean back on the kitchen counter and go to look over the never-to-be-sent text for the millionth time.
Me
Can we talk? If that’s alright with your boyfriend? If you even want to. I kind of need someone to bounce off of, and you were always really great at keeping me level-headed. Telling me when I’m doing something stupid. I need to know if I’m doing something stupid.
Just below are the tiny, all caps letters ‘READ’.
Oh no.
Shit. Cal must have sent it when he grabbed my phone.
Before I can even think about un-sending it—that’s anoption, right?—the typing bubble pops up and the kernel of anxiety explodes into an entire fireworks display.
A couple of seconds pass, and right as I’m about to slam the phone face down on the counter, a message comes through.
Riley
You can always talk to me, Matty. Griff knows we’re ancient history. Besides, he’s at an away game and jealousy always makes him kick a little extra ass.
I can’t decide if I’m going to laugh or cry, so of course, I do a little bit of both. It’s hard to type through the tears in my eyes, but I’m on the edge of bursting as it is, and I need to let it out.
Me
Don’t put me in the middle of your foreplay.
Riley
Pretty sure I remember that being your favorite part, sweetheart.
Shit. Sorry, that was weird, wasn’t it?
Me
Nah, I don’t mind. Maybe skip the pet names, though?
Riley
But you’re my squirt!
Me
