Sweet as Syn

4: GREYSON-Threesome Gone Wrong

Fuck. Me. I already got myself in deep with this girl and I've barely touched her. The second my hand connected with her torso, my dick instantly hardened. I haven't gotten a boner like that since I was like ten. I wasn't expecting it. Under those baggy shirts, the girl's got a figure that could bring a man to his knees. I didn't get a proper feel for her the way I wanted to but from what I felt, she had a tiny waist, a strong core and I fought with all my self-control not to touch further down to see if her ass was just as tight and sexy.

God, I had to shuffle behind her like a creep while all those cheerleaders watched. Not that I wanted Syn to know I got hard for her, but it pissed me off that she didn't even consider herself to be the source of my erection. Fuck her roommates and the cheer team—I only saw Syn.

And fuck these treadmill interval sprints for clearly exhausting me and cutting the oxygen supply to my brain, because I do not have eyes for Synamie Blake. That girl is nothing but a geeky tomboy with an attitude problem who clearly enjoys having MMA matches in her spare time. She's not hot, she's way too small, and I doubt she even has tits or an ass, not that I can tell through her ridiculous clothing. No chance in hell I like her like that. I'm not even slightly attracted to her. She's one of the dudes now. I just need to remind my dick of that.

Except, she hasn't even tried to reach out since I dropped her home last night, and that confuses me and my dick. Never in my twenty years have I had to text a girl first. I usually don't even answer my phone. It works like this: you reach out, if I want anything to do with you, I'll find you.

So, is this some kind of sick karma? A taste of my own medicine? It disgusts me that I'm even bothered by it. So much so, I find myself scrolling through my messages with Hunter to find Syn's number.

Me: As my new best friend, you have duties to uphold.

I stare at the screen, expecting an immediate response. But nothing comes. I finish up at the gym. Nothing. I grab lunch with Cameron. Nothing. I pass the ball around in the yard with the boys. Nothing. It's not until I'm getting ready to go out around ten when my phone finally lights up with her name on it.

Syn: How is it possible that you're distracting me and you're not even in my room?

If it disgusted me before that I was bothered by her lack of attention, it repulses me now when that cold thing in my chest jumps. I'm distracting her? Is she thinking about me?

Me: 1st off, I will now be a constant distraction in ur life. It's my killer good looks, I can't help it. 2nd, would it kill you to text back sooner?

Syn: What? Was 8 hours not quick enough?

Me: I expect prompt responses. 8 minutes the latest.

Syn: You're bossy.

Me: You should see me in the bedroom.

I think Syn gets off on doing the exact opposite of what I say, because this girl makes me stand in my room in nothing but boxers for exactly nine minutes, staring at my phone like an absolute jerk-off.

Syn: :)

A smiley face? What an asshole. Girl knows exactly how to get under my skin because now I'm questioning why she's suddenly texting me. Maybe she wants to take a break.

Me: If you wanna quit being an ass, offer still stands.

The '...' bubble pops up and goes away a few times as I wait, still half-naked, standing in the same spot.

Syn: Roomies decided to throw a pregame. Getting a little hard to focus.

Her roommates deserve a fifty-yard cunt-punt, and I'd be happy to deliver if Syn wouldn't chew me out every time I tried. They must know she has an exam. Couldn't they drink at someone else's dorm?