Phone checking.

You know, at that age I wasn’t really in the habit of checking my phone in the mornings. I had no reason to, as I didn’t get any messages, emails or anything like that. My alarm would go off, I would swipe at the phone screen to stop it and maybe stay another minute in bed, cursing the fact that I had to get up at all. I didn’t do that last thing that Monday morning. I heard my alarm, stopped it and got off the bed feeling completely refreshed and full of energy. It was early, and I finished with my shower by the time I heard mom getting up in her own room.

I put on my school uniform and went down to the kitchen to start on breakfast. I mean, I was awake already. Might as well help get things done. I boiled the water, poured mom her coffee, tea for Isabelle and I, toasted the bread, set the table and made three sandwitches. One with raspberry jam for me, one with scrambled eggs for mom, and one with melted cheese and ham for Isabelle. Adding to that, I left the oatmeal and the yogurt on the table for them to serve themselves to their liking. I could be accused of many things, but not of not knowing what my family ate for breakfast.

Mom came down first, looking pleasantly surprised to find everything taken care of. “What’s with you?” she asked with a smile. “Getting up early, making breakfast, going out more… Is it really a girl?” she teased.

Girls, mom. Plural. Not that I was going to answer that. “...I’ve been feeling well lately. I think the workout is showing its effects.”

“Certainly seems so.”

Isabelle came down a few minutes later, in her uniform but still half-asleep and looking like a zombie. She didn’t comment on me making breakfast, but she probably thought mom had taken care of it like usual.

“Isabelle, you’re doing the dishes today,” mom told her.

“Uh huh…” my sister assented absentmindedly.

I ate, stood up, got my backpack and said my goodbyes to mom, who was just getting ready to leave. She gave me a confused look, but waved goodbye nonetheless.

It was as I was walking to school early in the morning, putting on my headphones and taking my phone to put on some music that I finally noticed I had like five unread messages. All from Sarah. I thought that it must have been a reply to my message telling her I was home, only she sent it after I was asleep. Still, I unlocked my phone to read them… and nearly ended up dropping the damn thing from the shock.

Not one, not two, not three, but FOUR pictures that came with the message “I promised, didn’t I?”

In the first one, Sarah was posing in front of a mirror in her bathroom, phone in hand and with nothing but a towel to cover herself. Her curves and the sides of her boobs were visible, but her nipples and crotch were hidden by the white towel. Her hair was damp and slightly disheveled. She’d just come out of the shower.

The second and third one were of her wearing tight-fitting two-piece pajamas, deep purple and with pink stripes. Or was it pink with purple stripes? No matter, because she looked amazing, Her cleavage was slightly visible, and she stood relaxed in front of the mirror in her bedroom.

In the last one was at an angle as if one was looking up at her face from her stomach. She was laying in her bed, pajama top pulled up and holding it there with her teeth to show her chest, nipples erect.

I quickly closed the pictures and put my phone away, looking around me in a panic. No one was around, but I didn’t dare keep looking at those photos in public. One, I didn’t want anyone else to see them. Two, I’d be walking to school with a huge boner.

I walked with hurried steps towards school, heart racing, headphones on but no music playing. I was too busy replaying yesterday’s events to remember to play any music.

I wanted to see Sarah. I wanted to see Grace. I wanted to see Mila. Would they remember we agreed to arrive earlier at school? Would they do it? Before I knew it, I was at the school gates.

I heard few voices inside the school. Teachers, janitors, everyone getting ready to start a new school day in about 40 more minutes. I made a beeline to the old music room and found it unlocked and empty of people.

My heart sank for half a second before I told myself I was dumb to expect the girls to get here before I did. I lived the closest, of course I’d get here first. And so I resolved myself to wait, sitting on a chair and looking out the window towards the backyard.

Two minutes later (I checked. I was looking at my phone), the door to the classroom opened. My heart jumped to my throat as I saw Sarah coming in. I stood up from my seat, a little too eager, maybe. Though my excitement turned to worry when I saw my blonde friend walking up to me with a scowl.

“Hey,” she said, standing close to me with her arms crossed. “I sent you pictures yesterday and you don’t even look at them?”

Relief washed over me. God knows why, but I could tell by that frown, her posture and the look in her eye she wasn’t truly mad. I smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. I was asleep when you sent them. Just saw them this morning.”

“Is that so? And?” she asked expectantly.

“...They made me want to see you even more.”

That earned me a smile from her. She grinned, put a hand on my shoulder and kissed me, lips only. “Good morning, Oliver.”

“Good morning. Slept well?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” She raised her arms, stretching her body. “Never had a better night.”

Having her in front of me, in the flesh, hearing her voice… It put me at ease. The anticipation I felt was replaced by a sense of comfort. It was all real. All the sex, all the talks from yesterday had really happened, and Sarah wasn’t pretending like it hand’t.

I chuckled. “Did Mila and Grace go to your house after I left?”

Sarah flinched. “D-Did they tell you?”

“No, but from Saturday to Sunday you already knew all about my dat… day with Grace.” Again. NOT dates.

She grabbed the sleeve of my jacket and led me to the gym mattress against the wall, under the windows. We sat together, with Sarah’s shoulder resting against mine.

“Yeah, they went to my house. Told them everything.” She looked at me with a bit of worry. “Does it bother you?”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to keep secrets from any of you. Should it bother me?”

“Maybe? Aren’t you worried we’re talking about how bad you are in bed?”

I winced. “W-Was I?”

“Fuck no!” She laughed and gave me a playful shove. “Don’t worry. We’re not bad-mouthing you when you’re not around. If I have anything bad to say, I’ll say it to your face.”

“That’s… reassuring?”

“Keyword being ‘if’.” She grinned. “Nothing to complain about yet.”

“Yet?” I asked.

“Don’t start. And if you have something to complain about me, don’t save it and say it, too. Don’t be an ass about it and I’ll listen, at least.”

I nodded. Nothing came to mind yet.

Oh. I got what she meant.