Team Phison by Chace Verity

Author:Chace Verity [Verity, Chace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chace Verity

Twelve*

Going to sleep is impossible. Who the fuck thinks they can close their eyes and shut off their minds the same day their crush reciprocates their affections? Every time I’m about to drift off to dreamland, Tyson’s bashful confession races through my memory and sets my skin on fire. Each replay is more exciting than the last.

I just want to call Tyson and listen to him narrate his life. Fall as hard as possible for him. Tease him for his shitty choices in food and drinks.

Is it too soon to meet up? It probably is. What would we even do? Even if he likes me, he probably isn’t attracted to my body. I’m so old and disproportionate. Top heavy, skinny legs.

My phone buzzes close to midnight.

Home at last!! Sorry I couldn’t text any - surprisingly busy!!

That’s okay. I was busy too.

Hopefully I’m as good at lying via text message as I am in person.

Hey!! You’re awake

I am. Are you staying up for a little longer?

Please say yes.

Yeah!! You want to skype??

He said Skype first… It’s possible he wants us as much as I do, doesn’t he?

I’d like to see your face.

Get online then!!

I run a comb through my hair and throw on a button down shirt and do my damnedest to make myself presentable. There’s not a lot of hope for me at any hour of the day, but night does nothing to hide my general weariness. He’s going to have to see me in my glasses since I can’t be assed to put my contacts in.

Tyson calls the second I get on, and he’s beaming like the freaking full moon. Still dressed in his work clothes. He didn’t shave before work, and the idea of touching his scruffy chin makes the pulse in my wrist jump.

“Hey, Ty,” I croak. “How was work?”

“Good. Busy, but I still got home earlier than I thought I would.” He tugs at his collar and grins. “I didn’t know you wear glasses. You look amazing.”

“You always have something kind to say.” I lick my lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I get that a lot. Usually after I mess up an order at work or spill my cereal in the kitchen.”

The need to critique his choice in garbage breakfast food rises, but my tongue crumbles into dust as he takes off his black polo.

Tyson’s wearing a white tank top underneath. His arms have a few moles on them, and I’m dying to know if there’s more on his body. A tattoo graces one of his shoulder blades, but I can’t make out what it is in this dim, blue light.

Everything got way intimate all of a sudden.

“Did you make some money tonight?” I ask, desperate for a distraction from the tuft of chest hair poking out from the top of his tank top.

“Yeah, pretty decent cash. Gonna use it toward buying a new tire for my truck. I’ve been driving around on the donut for a month now.”

Oh my God. This guy. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

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