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Pinky promise


This is the second chapter for the double update. It’s long too but meh... this brain... this mouth 💁‍♀️

“Court!” I whisper yell into my phone, having dipped out of that uncomfortable situation as fast as possible, saying, more like stuttering—yeah, I’m one to talk—that I forgot something, high-tailing it back into the store. Awkwardly ditching my beloved road snacks, along with several bottled iced coffees, on the passenger seat. Fuck, balls, shit-sticks... what am I doing?

Trey’s sister was friendly as can be. Though I could tell she found a high level of entertainment in my spouty-mouth.

And poor Trey. Wait... is he not a fucknut anymore!? No, he’s def not. I overreacted. But oh well, gotta own that shit.

I finally take a breath. Swear to God, I haven’t inhaled since I jumped up from the side of his truck, legit not even thinking about what I was doing, letting my mouth blast off as my ugly temper reared its head—my specialty. After exchanging somewhat uncomfortable pleasantries, I tore off in search of a hiding space, looking back several times, catching a matching flustered look on Trey’s face.

Ugh. My bad Dude, my bad.

I give the clerk a tight smile, rushing through the store, darting to the restroom, seeking a sliver of solitude. Okay, it’s really just a place I can have a freak out moment in. Surprisingly, it’s mad clean in here, for a quick-fill, convenience store type of place.

Deep breath time.

Let’s be real though, in matters of hidden gas station goldmines, the one by me has the absolute best nachos in the world. Anyways standards really have heightened as far as keeping with the up and up, sanitation and all that shit, from when I was a kid. You know when you’d have to ask for a key to the outdoor, sketchy as fuck bathroom, usually came on some type of chipping, painted wooden stick thing? I mean it. I could probably order the Philly nachos and eat them off the floor of this place. Okay, gross. Too far.

Also. Fucking focus!


I’d exchanged introductions with Trey’s sister, Teagan, who seems superiorly cool, though I could tell she was dying to know about whatever the fuck we have going on. Which is exactly that... whatever the fuck. Okay, it’s not. If I’m being honest here, the last place I want to go is the hotel. Well, I don’t wanna go without him.

I wanna be around Trey. I wanna apologize for having a fucking tantrum.

Wait... an apology? Moi?

Because while yeah, still not super happy about that abrupt ending, as I sit here, chewing on the side of my thumbnail—filthy habit—I think I really was... wrong.

I’d been adamant, nonstop in New York, casual, casual, casual... blah, blah, blah. How could I not respond!? Dream girl. How am I someone’s dream girl? Am I still his? Has he moved on? Why didn’t I reach out, why’d I pretend like it was nothing, I know it wasn’t? Oh, right... avoidance—another one of my lovely character traits.

I don’t care what version of him he wants to be. Okay, maybe not a serial wad shooter. But ya know, if that’s his thing, I guess I’ve had worse. Well, I haven’t. Okay, there was this one time...


Keep to the topic!

And can we—and by we, I mean me—be real, and admit, at least to myself, that he’s crossed my mind approximately eighty-six thousand seconds, every day. Don’t doubt me on this, you can google. Okay, it’s eighty-six thousand four hundred, if you wanna get exact with it.

And was I jealous!? Oh my God, yeah. I definitely was.

With no damn reason!

Well, maybe for a reason.

What is happening to me?

I don’t care. I never dated people I had actual feelings for or some strange sense of attachment to.




This isn’t dating. This is nothing. Also, definitely isn’t nothing if I boarded a plane to find my way down here, especially when I hate to fly, but I didn’t give it a second thought. Why!?

I can’t handle this overload of whatever the hell stampede that’s happening inside my head, literally wreaking havoc on my insides, turning me into a hot mess—well, I already am. But even more of one. An inferno, a volcano, a spit roast. Okay, my mind traveled to dirt.


I really... I’m talking really, really, like Trey!

His young niece came walking up, mirroring her mother’s grin with a tiny southern drawn voice—making me cringe at my trash northeastern or whatever type of accent—calling me ma’am and saying she was pleased to meet me, her small hand clasped to mine. I swear people raise their kids differently depending on the region here, it’s wild.

Anyway, Teagan eyed the two of us suspiciously. Thank shit I think she realized I was absolutely traumatized, saying it was nice to meet me when I fumbled over my bullshit excuse, giving me a wave with a sincere smile. That same genuine one that he has. So easy and relaxed. The one that curls up the corners of his pink, perfectly plump, and pleasantly proficient—back at it with the P’s—lips.

Am I checking myself here!?

Also, with what Trey called me out on. And by the way, no one has ever really done that to me before. Or maybe I just never cared. Was it kind of refreshing? I’m really not sure in this muddled up brain of mine. But I know one thing. Sitting in this public, also, slash private, one stall bathroom away from him. I only wanna be one place.

Near him.

Damn. I think I fucked this all kinds of sideways.

“Briar!?” Court shouts through the phone. I called her four times with no answer, then texted that this was a red alert, all hands on deck. The ship is sinking, I need help. Seriously, those exact words. “What’s up?” she asks, sounding annoyed. “Did you already self-sabotage?”

I’m sorry... what?

“Huh?” I respond. Okay, she’s not wrong here, not totally. “Dammit Court, my head’s a mess.”

“Ugh.” She groans into the line. "Calm your tits for two seconds, I’m finishing up with a client."

I sit, still commando under my overly tight jeans, and I can tell you, that, in itself, is a poor choice. Not all friction rubbing against your hoo-ha is the way to go. I wait patiently—that’s a lie—silently wishing I’d snagged a pair of freshies out of my suitcase, as if I could reach it, anyway. I hear a light clang, I’m guessing she put her phone down in one of the several rooms of her day spa place.

“Hold your, um, lips a little to the left.”


I catch a glimpse of my panicking self in the mirror, hanging above the sink, the stall door hanging wide open, my shoe tapping against the tan tile of the floor. Damn, the grout is a shiny white. I’m telling you, five stars on Yelp! from the state of the restroom alone.

I wonder if they have nachos, though? My stomach grumbles, reminding me I have eaten nothing since the salad my dad brought me at lunchtime. Ugh. Maybe that was the issue. Hangry is a thing.

I hear the abrupt ripping sound of the cloth or whatever she’s using and I wince—for reals, all the neck muscles straining in full effect—imagining her eyes wide with glee as she inflicts pain. Truth time, it’s a problem. She enjoys it and someone should look into that.

“All good,” Court announces. “Looking nice and trimmed up for Thanksgiving. Go ’head and stuff that turkey, or whatever you’re into.”


That’s how she gets return customers?

Things shuffle around for a few seconds as I listen to her tell the person goodbye and thank you and all those kinds of polite-ish remarks.

“Okay, so what’s up?” She lets out a heavy sigh, her tone teetering on the edge of irritation. “What did you do? You’ve been there all of”—she pauses—“an hour?”

“First off,” I say, shaking my head, “please tell me you were waxing a stash?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Doll-face.” Court chuckles over the line. “So cut to the chase, the fuck is up and where the hell are you?”

“I’m at a gas station, sitting on the toilet—”


“Chill,” I reply. “I’m not going, I’m just...” I look around at the crisply painted white walls, a small window up in the corner letting the last hints of the dusky sun seep into the single stalled room. “I’m hiding in here because I’m dying a slow and painful death. Cause... extreme mortification.”

“Extreme over-dramatization,” she responds with an eye roll. I know I can’t see it, but I hear that shit in the loud exhale she obnoxiously blows into the mic of her phone. “Wait. Did you guys get down in the bathroom again and someone came in puking? Or, did Chaz decide to chime in with a rando heart to heart?” I can sense the hilarity in her voice. I swear, did I really have to tell her every detail?

“What. No. Though, I’m telling you Court, this place is pristine.” I stand from the closed lid I was sitting on. Also, let’s highlight that. A lid in a public restroom? Top shelf.

Why must I focus on irrelevant shit!?

Task on hand. Okay, I’m gonna stay on track.

“He picked me up at the airport. Seriously looking so hot.”

“Right, right. He really has that dreamy southern sex-God thing working for him,” she adds in. Not an incorrect observation.

“Okay, let’s stick to the story,” I tell her—as if I’m one to talk. A somewhat gentle rap sounds against the outside of the door. “Someone’s in here,” I call out. Walking over to the sink, I rest my palms down on the cool surface, waiting a few seconds to ensure the person next in line to use the facilities doesn’t knock again. Propping the phone to my ear with my shoulder.

“Okay, so you’re in the bathroom. You’re hiding. He looked hot, picked you up, also looking hot if you wore the outfit we chose last night,” she recaps with a snorty grunt.

“Yeah. And he was acting all cool, telling me he was dating but not—”

“So?” she cuts in. “You’ve been doing Jonathan.” The way she sneers his name, I can tell by her nasally tone that she’s making her stink face.

“I know, I know. Okay, so I was kinda thrown off because I couldn’t tell if he was interested in me or me,” I lengthen the last word.

“Stupid.” She laughs.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”


“It felt like he was all over the place. I took it as if he wasn’t interested, but then he was looking at me like he was, and then he wasn’t.”

“But it was you, in fact, with the all over the place nonsense?” Court doesn’t even try to tone down the thundering groan that leaves her mouth.

“What? No. Well, I didn’t. Wait.”

“K,” she clips. “Please, please continue on with how this dreamboat, and what... one of the sweetest guys you’ve ever met said. Because I’m pretty sure that’s how you referred to him in the, oh, fifty times you’ve brought him up.”

“Ugh!” I huff, doing my own substantial eye roll. “I never said that.” Did I? It’s true, though. Trey is like a different breed of a man, he’s something else. “He pulled out while we were fucking and he stopped me right before I came, got all weird about it. Then I stormed off, and I guess”—my eyes search the ceiling—“well, yeah, I threw a fit.”

She snickers into the phone. “Carry on, carry on,” she urges with a smidge of boredom, or entertainment, or who even knows.

A few soft taps fall against the door, again. “I’m sorry,” I call out. “Almost finished.”

“So, I was doing my thing, off in a tizzy.”

“I can imagine.”

“Anyway,” I continue, “he kind of called me out, told me I was selfish, that I wanted one thing and acted like another. Told me it was fucking with his head. And it’s fucking with my head. So I’m at this gas station, ducked inside and bought up some snacks and stuff.”

“Oh,” she replies. “Get anything good?”

“Gummy bears, chips, iced coffees.”

“All the staples.”

“Right?! Okay, so I walked back out, and he was talking to some chick and I—”

“The plot thickens,” she interrupts me with some weird kind of accent, lengthening the words.

“Christ, we def have attention problems,” I mutter. “So I jumped up and ran my mouth, saying I hoped she had better luck with him and stupid kinds of idiotic shit like that.”

“This is too good. Please tell me, please please tell me...”

“Yup.” I pop the p, this time ignoring the knocks that grow louder, turning on the sink to pretend like I’m going through the proper bathroom succession of sanitation. “His fucking sister.”

Her bellowing laughter echoes out from my cell, I double check and yeah... the volume’s as low as it goes before muting her.

“Court,” I growl her name, which does very little in the way of halting her giggle attack. “When we were having sex, he pulled out and he um... he ya know... all over my back.”

I finally reveal the full truth, cringing as the words rip out, but also scolding myself as my legs clamp together, thinking about that entire scene before the ending, or not ending, at least for me.

Alright, the commando is having the good, or the bad, or whatever adverse effect right now.

The phone line goes silent.

“Wait,” Court begins, a few chesty laughs follow. “So he shot his jizzy jizzum on you and you’re having a tantrum?”

“No. Did you hear everything I said? I almost had a... you know... and he pushed me off. Not just that... he called me selfish!”

“Were you being selfish?” she asks, the humor leaving her voice.

I hold my tongue.

“Briar,” she enunciates the end of my name. “You’re sweet, you aren’t typically selfish, in my opinion, but if you see things from his point of view, why are you even calling me? Just communicate.” She breaks up the syllables of the last word, heaving a sigh.

“I don’t know.” I bite on the inside of my cheek.

“So you don’t have to tell me, but I know you. You said something; revealed a straight splooge of your own feelings, if you will. Probs freaked him out the same way you’re flipping. Because for real, you like him. And that’s okay! You’ve never given a shit about any guy, at least not that you’ve told me before.”

“That’s not true.” It totally is.

“Have you ever cried over a breakup?”



“I’ve been... upset.” I try to hold up a feeble defense. But damn, she’s totes right. Nah, every time I’ve been like eh, cool, deuces, smell ya later.

“Hah, sure,” Court replies, her voice loaded with sarcasm. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get your ass outta that bathroom, stop hiding, and I don’t mean right now, I mean with life in general. Let the shit scare you, that’s alright. They’re called feelings and—” she lets out a mocking gasp, lining up for another jab or whatever.


“Nope. Silence, you fool!” she roars. “You called me for advice, so here ya go.”

I press my lips together, still absently staring in the mirror, blowing a strand of hair that fell over my face. Damn, my makeup held up pretty well, but shit, the slight frizz freak out is a definite reminder that I’m in the south and humidity is for real.

“You are sticking with the original plan, maybe throw in a good rub and tug on the way to your hotel.”

I shake my head, laughing to myself.

“Why aren’t you staying with him?” she questions.

And it’s a good question.

“I don’t know?”

“Okay. So you are gonna do the craziest thing.” She gasps, pausing for dramatic effect. “You are going to talk. You are gonna put your big girl panties on and work it out. Have a great weekend, get that pussy all kinds of blasted out.”

“You’re so nasty,” I reply, scrunching my nose.

“I know, you’re so welcome. Anyway, feelings are scary, you fucktangular little bitch.”

“Fuck, what?”

My head whips to the side, the metal handle on the door lowers as it slowly creaks open.

“You got this. You are Briar fucking Hayes and you are gonna own the shit outta the next two days. Now I gotta go, have a facial to do before I can go home and own my weekend.”

My eyes lock on the jade ones, now peering in through the partially open door, staring at me with a gentle smile.

“I gotta go,” I whisper into my cell.

“Ya know,” she continues. “Speaking of facials. I mean, if that’s Trey’s thing... just make sure you keep your eyes—”

I click the end button, sliding my phone into my back pocket, swallowing as he strides towards me, not breaking eye contact.

“I’m sorry!” I blurt out as he gets closer, his palms landing on my forearms, traveling down to my hands, intertwining his fingers with mine. “I’m not good at...” Biting down on my lower lip, Trey’s gaze fixed on mine, a growing smile curving his mouth. “I’m not good at feelings and I don’t know why I have them for you, we hardly know each other. And my head is a mess, I have a temper...”

“I couldn’t tell,” he says, one hand cupping my cheek, the other tightly clasped over mine, face so close the sweet minty smell tingles my nostrils.

“Yeah, I do. And then I got jealous and I don’t know where that green monster came from. And I just... I just... I can’t...”

My back hits against the cool white tiles lined halfway up the wall. Trey’s palm sliding to the back of my neck, pulling me closer, his nose nudging mine.

“I’m sorry I acted like that, and did”—his thick lashes flutter against my cheek, eyes shifting to the side—“what I did.” He leans back slightly, studying my face.

“It’s really okay. Like if that’s your thing, I guess you can—”

He lets out a quiet chuckle, the heat from his breath hitting my lips. “It’s not. And I promise, if you let me, I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah?” I wrap my arm around his waist, my palm—well, the one that’s not all clammy in his hand—traveling to his nicely defined ass.

“Yup,” he says, laying a soft kiss on the corner of my lips. “So, what do you say... redo?”


Before I can even think about what I’m doing—in some autopilot type of move—I lift our hands up, freeing mine from his grasp and hooking my pinky around Trey’s. Tilting his head back, mirroring my movement, pressing the tip of his thumb to his own lips before we push them together.

“You know how to do the whole pinky promise thing?” I ask. Honestly, the only guy I’ve ever done that with is Chaz, started when we were kids. Always gotta kiss on the thumbs, that’s the only way it’s valid.

He lets out a gentle laugh, pressing his forehead against mine, both of us dropping our arms. “Four sisters, remember?”

“That’s right.”

“Speaking of.” Trey’s fingertips trace up my side, goosebumps erupting over my entire body. “That’s why I didn’t tell you about the party. And I should have, I was being stupid. But I figured taking you there would be like throwing you into the wolves den and—”

“Bless you,” I declare with a giggle. Yeah, we are soooo not there yet. Will we ever get there? Ugh, I couldn’t even imagine my mother meeting... Nope. Fuck that. Overthinking is done-ski, well, for this moment.

I crash my lips over his, my hand gripping the front of his shirt, twisting the white cotton in my fist, pulling him as close to me as humanly possible. I weave my fingers up through the back of his hair, tugging on those panty dissolving—guess we can skip that part—waves, our tongues licking and twirling in each other’s mouths. Trey’s hand sliding under my ass, lifting me, pushing me against the wall, his hips doing a slow grind into my body, making a soft moan escape my throat.

“The bathroom?” I ask, breaking the kiss, out of breath and my lips swollen and numb from the ravaging mouth to mouth.

“Might as well,” he says, his voice husky, filled with that deep passionate tone that makes a lot of things amp up. “It’s kind of our thing.”

I nod and his mouth attacks mine, fingers continuing their slow teasing patterns under my shirt, grazing over my stomach. My hand slides down, palm finding his more than growing arousal, taut against the front of his jeans.

Both of us panting, hot, ragged breaths bursting from our noses, not even trying to stop the kiss or our roaming hands. Mine, reach under his shirt, the tips of my fingers trailing up his torso.

Shit. I guess bathroom sex is on the menu.

A loud creak sounds out.

His head jerks back, both of us gasping, out of breath, eyes wide, staring at the door where his curly haired niece stands, a curious look on her face.

“Uncle Trey!?”

A/N: 😆😆😆😆😆 I had farrrrr too much fun writing their convo, this is so me and my bestie. Look, Briar and Trey are both terrified of heartbreak. Who isn’t. But I think they’re ready to give this thing a run... see where it goes😜😜😜😜 giddy up 🤠

Also, did you see my vid I made for Ties? I’m super proud of it lol, it’s on my IG page. Anywhooo thank you for reading, commenting.

Oh right. Thoughts? Comments?

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