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Piper Fontaine: You’re not just goofing off?
a-dam fine man: nope
The picture popped up in an instant, as fast as anything else he’d sent me, but this was miles away from anything he’d ever sent me before. Adam was sitting on one of the exercise machines, legs stretched out, all relaxed and comfortable, with a Romans t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants that hugged his thighs and his calves.
My eyes widened.
Everything about him was muscle.
He wasn’t even flexing and his arms were a dream, the sliver of his thick biceps poking out from the sleeves. And his hands. Oh my god, I knew how big his hands were. I’d felt them around my throat, on my hip, trailing down my thighs. Adam had effortlessly played my body, holding me up, pinning me back against him.
My breathing labored with the memory.
I had nudes that were less erotic than this. The self-confident pose, lounging on the exercise machine that seemed too small for him. My six-foot-four football player looked so hot.
My football player?
“Did you see what Adam—what in the hell?” Zariah hissed at me. She notched her knee on her chair, dipping down close to me. I yanked away my phone without a second to spare. It fell down to my lap, and Zariah and I said our apologies quickly to the people around us, settling back to sit for the presentation.
But I could feel her eyes burning a hole in the side of my skull.
“Adam did what?” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.
“Who the fuck sent you that?”
I hurried to shake my head. “What’d Adam do?”
She showed me her phone under the desk and I caught just a glimpse of a screenshot of the football team’s group chat.
Ryan #2 Cross: if you don’t bleed on the track what’s the point
ryan cross 13: More laps!!!!!! Run another mile!!!!!
Ryan 35: guys come on if you speak you aren’t going hard enough
Ryan Cross: SOMEBODY BETTER TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON
Ryan Cross: WHATS GOING ON
4-a-cross: more laps bros! More laps!
Zariah shook her head. “Adam had everybody change their names to Ryan’s and they’re psychologically torturing him right now, but I could not care less, Ms. Piper Fontaine.” Her voice dropped. “Who the hell sent you that?”
51
Piper
What We Do For Our Own
The blushes were going to permanently stain my cheeks. Because the thing was, Zariah hung out in the training center all the time with her brother. If she actually had a good look at the picture, she would’ve recognized the location. And even if Adam sent it without his face in the photo, Zariah would piece it together.
No, no, no.
“Just a friend,” I whispered, writing nonsense words in my notebook, like I was paying attention.
“Piper.” Zariah giggled. “Adam and I are friends. He sure as hell doesn’t send anything like that to me. What kind of friend is this guy?”
She was so close to the truth, she could’ve smacked me on the back of the head.
