Flip (Next Level Book 2)

Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have never met Trey in that bathroom. This is all my fault. The way I feel. The way my mind is spinning. I can’t believe I let myself do unspeakable things in a public bathroom with that man.

And I can’t believe how much I loved it.

I don’t understand what’s going on with us. This isn’t the first time we’ve hooked up and, damnit, I don’t want it to be the last. It should be though. Trey deserves a woman who has her shit together.

I’m a single mom with no job and no life. The only time I have fun is with my brother and Ara, and those times usually include Trey because he’s like family at this point too. We’ve known each other since Glitch went to MIT and brought Trey home on break.

We hit it right off.

Things were cool for so long—I’d low key crush on a guy who had a bright future, he’d playfully engage in fun conversations until he somehow became part of our tiny family.

Then two years ago we kissed.

And that’s when things got all messed up.

Beeeep. I lay on the horn and scream, “A blinker would be nice, asshat!” Speeding around the jerk in front of me, I flip him off and finally make my way out of the big city. I hate crowds. I hate peopling.

I hate that I don’t have my panties on.

What’s Trey going to do with them anyway? Why keep them for any reason other than to make me feel ashamed for degrading me in the bathroom like that.

Wait. Do I feel ashamed and degraded?

Kinda.

Fine. No. Not really. I like that he stuffed them in his pocket as a keepsake. What I don’t like, is how I’m already tallying up how many pairs of panties I have in my drawer so I can encourage him to do it again.

Holy crap, what is wrong with me? This needs to stop.

Trey’s hot as fuck and charismatic to a fault. He could charm underwear off a nun if he wanted. I’m not far off from being a holy sister at this point. Trey’s the only man I’ve let myself be with in over two years. Before that, my love life was dismal and nearly obsolete. Ever since I had my son, I don’t let men into my life easily.

Honestly, I’m shocked I don’t have cobwebs between my legs.

It’s not that I haven’t tried dating, because believe me, I have. But with my work schedule and Beetle being the center of my life, I’ve never had time for bullshit dates and booty calls. Besides, most guys see that I have a nine-year-old kid and run the other way.

My heart sinks a little thinking of Beetle. I miss him.

Pulling up to our house, all the lights are off, and it makes my heart sink a little coming home to an empty house. Beetle’s away at camp and will be for much of the summer. I hate when he’s not here to drive me crazy. But I’m glad he’s experiencing fun things and hopefully making new friends.

Heading inside, I kick off my shoes, flick on the lights, and sigh. It’s good to be home. This is the only house I’ve ever lived in and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. Running upstairs, I quickly get out of my dress and put on a pair of pajama pants and a loose-fitting t-shirt with Ghostface on it. It’s nice to dress up for a night, but it’s a million times better to eat junk food and horror movies in comfort.

My stomach growls.

Too tired to make something decent, I trudge into the kitchen and dump cereal in a bowl before plopping on the couch. I no sooner find the remote when my doorbell rings.

Don’t answer it. Pretend you’re not home.

I’m not expecting company so whoever it is can fuck right off.

“Erin?” Trey’s voice booms, hitting me square in the chest.

Shit, shit, shit! I get up so fast, milk and cereal slosh all over my hands. “Trey? What are you doing here?”

“You really need to keep your door locked.”

“You really need to not walk into people’s houses.”

“You didn’t answer when I rang the bell.”

I want to say a lot of things—mostly about how I didn’t want to answer because I’m not in the mood for company. But my bitchy attitude evaporates when I see him standing in the foyer with a huge paper bag.

“Why are you here?”

“Glitch said you were sick.”

We both know it’s a lie, so I don’t say anything. Trey walks further into my house and drops the bags of food on the dining table. Without saying a word, he heads to the kitchen and grabs plates, cups, and silverware.

“What are you doing?” I don’t understand him at all.

“We were supposed to have dinner tonight.”

“Yeah, well, plans change.”

“Exactly.” He pulls out box after box after box of food. “I went ahead an ordered extra. Figured leftovers are never a bad thing to have in the fridge—especially considering how busy the next couple of days will be. I also swung by that taco place Beetle likes and bought him guac and chips for when he gets home from camp.”

Tears threaten to spill, but I refuse to allow it. My entire body sags instead. “Why are you doing this?”

Trey pops the lid off the salad I’d ordered at the restaurant and starts scooting it onto a plate. “You left before you could eat.”

“I’m aware. And I’m already eating.” Holding up my bowl of cereal makes me feel childish, but I can’t seem to pull it together. Trey coming here like this is weird. And wonderful. “We don’t do things together without Glitch.”

He stops what he’s doing and flashes me a huge smile. “I think we’ve done plenty of things together without Glitch.”

“You know what I mean.” I’m walking towards him like the smell of gourmet food and Trey’s cologne are luring me in.

He doesn’t say a word while he finishes plating our dinner. “Sit down, Erin.”

Fuck that. I glower at him instead.

I’m mad and confused and touched all at the same time. It’s always like this with Trey. My pride and heart get too confused.

He sits down and pours us each a glass of wine.

Oh my God, he even picked up a bottle of my favorite Riesling. I can’t with this man.

I’d be a jerk if I didn’t sit with him and eat, right? I might not have asked for it, but the gesture is incredibly thoughtful. And I know why I’m struggling to sit and enjoy this meal.

I don’t know how to be taken care of.

Is that what Trey’s trying to do? I can’t even tell. The concept is so far gone from my norm, I legit can’t figure out what to say or do right now.

Leaning back in his chair, he stares at me with a stern expression, waiting for me to make up my mind. Running his gaze up and down my body, he says, “There’s a Scream marathon tonight.”

Damn him for knowing all my weaknesses. I drop into my chair and pick up my fork. Without saying another word, I stab my lettuce and shove a forkful in my mouth. It’s good, but I’d rather have the steak Trey’s carefully carving a piece off of on his plate. “Can I try that?”

He watches me carefully. I can feel his eyes burning my skin, heating me down to my core.

“Open that pretty mouth for me.” He stabs a hunk of meat, lifts his fork to my mouth and feeds me. It’s the most intimate thing we’ve done apart from the pumpkin pie episode last Thanksgiving.

“That’s really good.”

Trey carves off another piece and feeds me that too.

I refuse to take a third bite and stop him. “You enjoy it. I only wanted a taste. Glitch always raves about that place and their steaks, but I’ve never been.”

Trey sips his wine and then loads his fork with a piece of steak, a carrot, and a little sauce. “They’re worried about you,” he says before stuffing his mouth.

God, even the way he chews his sexy. His jawline is stupidly hot and don’t get me started on his mouth.

Or what his mouth can do…

“I’ll text them later and tell them I feel fine.”

“Why’d you run, Erin?”

I sit back in my chair and stare at him. “Like you don’t know?”

“No. I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. Because it can’t be that you felt shame for what we did. It can’t be because you have no idea how to compose yourself after coming hard under my tongue. And it’s not because you suddenly got the flu.”

He’s right. “I’m…” What can I say? “I’m confused and didn’t want to be a drag at dinner.”

“One, you’re never a drag, so get that notion out of your head. Two, what are you confused about?”

I deadpan him.

He takes another bite of his steak, unaffected. “That look won’t work on me. Use your words, Erin.”

How dare he talk to me like this! “I think you should leave.”

Trey doesn’t budge. “Not until we’ve come to an agreement.”

“An agreement?” What did that even mean?

“No more games, Er.”

“You fingering me in the bathroom wasn’t a game. You eating my pussy wasn’t a game. We don’t play games, Trey.”

“You being hot and cold with me is a fucking game.” He drops his fork and knife, and they clank loudly on his plate. “If I asked you out to dinner, what would you say?”

“I’d say you already brought dinner here so there’s no point.”

“What about tomorrow night?”

“You bought food for then too.” Look at this spread! He knows what he’s done. He said it himself, tons of leftovers, on purpose.

“The night after?”

“Beetle will be back, and I don’t have a babysitter.”

“He can come with us.”

My anger rises and I don’t even know why. “Why are you doing this?”

He stands up and my heart pounds in my chest. He turns my chair, with my ass still planted in it, and grips the sides of the seat by my thighs. His mouth is super close to mine and his eyes have gold flecks in them under this lighting. “I want you, Erin.”

“You had me.”

He shakes his head. “Not talking about on the sly in a bathroom, or in a pantry, or in your motherfucking laundry room.”

Oh yeah… the laundry room. How did I forget that time in the laundry room where he ate me out until I lost all brain function?

“I’m talking about for keeps.”

Keeps? Oh hell no. He needs to leave. Now. “I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”

Trey doesn’t back away, but I know he won’t keep me trapped either. If I wanted up, he’d move. I just haven’t budged.

“Give us a try, Erin.” He presses his mouth softly to mine and my head spins with a million ways this could blow up in my face. Trey’s important to me. He’s even more important to Beetle. If this doesn’t work out, I’m not the only one who will feel the pain. Relationships are work. They require time and attention, and I don’t have the capacity for it.

“I’m…” Scared. “I’m tired, Trey. Please leave.” I push up and he leans back, giving me some space to move around.

“Fine.” His defeated tone makes me whimper. With his head down, he leaves my house and says, “Lock the door behind me, please.”

My heart collapses when the front door clicks shut.