65. EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

TWO MONTHS LATER

“What are you wearing?” I asked Clementine through the phone, with my feet propped up on the back of a stadium seat. My head hung back between my shoulders and I stared at the roof, bored to death and grumpy about being up before seven am.

“A mini skirt and no underwear,” Clementine teased, her voice muffled. She said something on the other end that I couldn’t hear. “The movers keep clapping everytime I bend over, no idea why…”

“They’re in your apartment?” I grumbled thinking about her long legs in her skirt. When she didn’t respond to my question a low whine left my throat before I could stop it. “Plum, please…” I hoped she could hear how pathetic I looked right now.

“Are you jealous of the movers, Cael?” Clementine laughed and it made my heart race.

“Yes,” I said and sat up in the chair. “Are you really wearing a miniskirt?”

“No Cael, I’m packing.” I listened as she switched the phone to her other ear. “I’m wearing sweatpants and I haven’t washed my hair in a week, I must smell like a locker room.”

“That’s even worse!” I groaned loudly, my cock hardening at the thought of it. “Sweat and lavender…” I huffed, I could almost smell how delusional I’d become. “Your ass is mine Clementine, you should be charging extra for them to see it in those pants.” I gripped the phone tightly, I could picture exactly what her butt looked like in those sweats and my entire body shivered in response. “And I miss your smell,” I whined without meaning to, it just slipped out.

“It’s only been a few weeks Cael, we’ve gone longer.” She dropped her tone. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Don’t shower until I get home from Spring Camp,” I demanded.

“I’m showering the second I get to the Nest,” she argued and I licked my lip at the thought of her rolling those annoyed, beautiful brown eyes at my request.

“You’re not playing fair,” I kicked my phone against the chair.

“ We’ve gone longer ,” Clementine reminded me.

“Which is exactly why this is torture. It’s not a daydream anymore. I can count down the days and time is laughing at me.” I removed my hat and ran my hand over the fresh fuzz that had formed after my buzz cut. She was going to flip out when she found out I cut it. “I still can’t believe you won’t move into the Nest permanently.”

“I’m not moving into the frat house, Cael,” she said, before bossing someone around on the other end. I wanted her home, bossing me around. I clenched my jaw as I listened to her use that stern voice on the mover, shifting uncomfortably until finally just getting up from my seat and starting to pace. “Having my own apartment is what I need,” she reminded me.

The conversation had begun rocky when we finally sat down to discuss what we both wanted, and the only thing we could agree on was her being closer. I had begged her to stay at the Nest, but she was bound and determined to have her own space and, as upset as the space made me, I understood. She was still scared of my shadow and I wouldn’t force her to live in it. The apartment was a compromise, it was close to campus with controlled rent but still gave her independence.

“I left the keys on my dresser,” I said to her in defeat, after I had made a copy that was currently burning a hole in my pocket.

“Thank you, Baby ,” she purred and, just like that, all the frustration melted away. “I’ll be waiting for you when you get home from Spring Camp,” Clementine reminded me. “You’ll come see me? ”

“My first and only stop,” I confirmed. “I hope you don’t have plans because we aren’t leaving bed for a week,” I warned her, dropping my tone. “I’ll be starving by then.”

“Two at least; if you’re a good boy I’ll wear the skirt.” She giggled and every muscle in my body strained under the sound.

“No underwear?” I asked, the thought of her thighs creating a burning pressure in the pit of my stomach.

“Will you clap for me when I bend over?” She dropped her voice into the tiniest moan.

“Are the movers listening?” I asked her.

“No,” she said.

“Put me on speaker, I want everyone in that god forsaken apartment to hear it.”

“Bobbi is here,” Clementine warned.

“She’s going to love this. Speakerphone, Plum. Now,” I ordered.

“You’re on speaker.” She laughed softly and I heard her set the phone on the counter.

Perfect.

“Good girl.” I returned the praise, knowing the exact shade of pink the comment turned her cheeks. “When I get home I’m going to spend the first week fucking you until you can’t form a real sentence on every surface in that fucking apartment. And then when we're done, I’m going to start all over again, marking your sweet little pussy with my tongue until you can’t breathe. You’ll beg me to stop.”

I heard the strangled gasp that left Bobbi from the declaration alongside a few mumbled curse words and a ‘ that man is setting unrealistic expectations for society. He’s a menace. ’

“Don’t hold your breath,” Clementine purred, the sound getting soft at the end as she said, “I love you.”

“How much?” I asked her with a smile as I pushed into the main hallway of the stadium.

“A thousand lifetimes worth,” Clementine finally answered, after thinking about it for a moment. “Say it back, I need to go,” she ordered .

“I love you, Plum,” I reminded her. “I’ll see you in a couple weeks. Thanks for taking care of my girl, Bobbi.”

“She’s my girl, Lance Bass!” Bobbi yelled from the other end.

“Have fun, Loverboy,” Clementine cooed and hung up the phone.

I stopped at the main offices, turning down the hall, my sneakers squeaking against the waxed floors. My phone buzzing in my hand halfway to my Dad’s office, I smiled down at the screen. Clementine in her sweats hanging low on her hips, her soft stomach and beautiful skin on display in a lacy purple bra that barely contained the swell of her round breasts, both straps fallen off her shoulders. Her brown hair was messy and falling from two cute little buns at the nape of her perfect neck. I wanted to spend hours kissing every curve of her body. God I missed her. I swallowed tightly and texted her back.

Three weeks minimum, I want you bent over that counter at least twice and no tip for the movers, they should be thanking you for the religious experience.

Plum: Deal. xx

“Dad?” I knocked on his office door, shoving my phone away and adjusting myself in my pants before coming inside, stopping and looking around. “Did you clean?” All of the boxes were gone, as were the blankets that usually crowded his ugly couch and the duffle bags of dirty clothes that littered the floors. I tucked my hands into the pocket of my hoodie and wandered closer as I took in the organized space. I’m pretty sure I hadn’t seen the floor in here since rookie year.

“It was Sylwia,” he grumbled.

“Like, Mrs. Shore?” I said, and I must have sounded bewildered because Dad’s green eyes glowered at me when I looked back at his desk. “At least someone organized, I guess.” I shrugged and walked over to lean on the desk.

“When does Clementine get back to Harbor?” He asked me.

“Next week. Bobbi and she are packing up the apartment and driving. I'll be gone when she gets in, so try to make an effort at least until I get back,” I said .

“What does that entail?” Dad grumbled.

“Help her move into her apartment? Take her for dinner? I don’t know, Dad. Turn on the Cody charm and be polite for a few days.” I sighed and ran my hand over my neck as I turned to sit on the desk. “Can you do that?”

“Sure,” he huffed.

That was as much as he was going to give me, but it was more than usual.

“Silas said you had the roster?” I said, changing the conversation.

He handed me the clipboard without looking up.

“Promise me you’ll behave at camp, Cael,” he warned.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep, Dad.” I mocked and ran my eyes over the roster stopping at the new starting pitcher's name. “Is this real?” I asked him.

He nodded without looking up and repeated himself. “Behave.”

I left him to whatever had his focus and wandered down the quiet halls of the stadium, saying hello to a few of the ladies in the office before pushing outside in the chilly spring air.

Silas looked stressed, his gray eyes scanning over a piece of paper as everyone moved around in the parking lot checking their gear. The buses had started loading for spring camp and his plate was full with not only our team starting our season but three other teams.

Ella shook her head at something he said and flipped the page to point to something else. Nick and Arlo stood with their arms crossed, looking more like brothers than ever but still tense in each other's company. It would be a little while before they found their way back to siblings, but for now, they were at least functioning as colleagues.

I leaned against Van’s truck and looked over the roster again, my brows furrowing together. Silas broke off from Ella and made his way toward me with a scowl on his face as he reached out for the roster.

“I can tell from your expression that you’ve seen the newest addition to the team.” He said, standing across from me in his Harbor hoodie and jeans.

“They’re going to riot.” I shook my head and looked over at them all happily chatting and getting ready. “This is going to ruin camp.”

“This is the best time for him to bond with the team.” Silas wasn’t budging on the matter. “I need you to help this go smoothly. ”

“They’re going to string him up on the flag pole and throw tomatoes at him.” I laughed and tapped the clipboard.

“Sounds like bonding to me.” He shrugged. “You cut your hair?” He raised an eyebrow at me, and rubbed his palm over the buzzcut. “Looks good.”

“I think the school board calls it hazing…” I said, ignoring his observation. Silas didn’t respond. “As long as you’re aware of how badly this will end.” I clapped him on the shoulder and wandered over to where most of the team was huddled up.

“You better tell them soon before he gets on that bus,” Silas whispered in passing as he grabbed his bag from Ella and climbed onto the bus ahead of the team. She offered no sympathy and followed closely.

“Tell us what?” Van asked, crossing his arms over his chest as Dean joined the huddle in his sweatpants and backward hat.

“What’s going on?” He asked me.

“Uh,” I opened my mouth to speak but the sound of a duffle loudly dropping to the ground interrupted my explanation.

“Hey boys,” Joshua Logan, former pitcher of the Lorrette’s stood in a t-shirt, sweats, a cocky grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. “Who’s ready for Spring Camp?”