Off Season (Off #6) Read Online Free Page A

pulling out my
laptop. Turning it on so I can log onto the airline’s
complimentary Wi-Fi, I patiently wait for it to boot up while letting
my mind wander.
    To Cady.
    We’ve kept up
a steady stream of emails back and forth to each other the last few
weeks, and every time I hit the button to send her another
communication, I find my patience wearing thin waiting for her
response.
    Somewhere in our
decision to become email friends, I discounted the fact that I would
grow closer to her the more we got to know each other. It never
occurred to me that even with Cady sitting across the Atlantic Ocean,
I would start to feel something for her despite the distance. In
fact, I never really thought this “friendship” would
amount to anything when I first suggested it. I wrote to her that
first time because I was still caught up in the amazing after-effect
feelings of a fantastic fuck.
    Correction…
fucks… as in plural.
    Because I hit that
more than once, each time better than the time before.
    Yeah… I
started this stupid idea of maintaining a “friendship”
with her, but I never really thought it was going to last. I figured
the next piece of ass that came my way would have my mind cleared of
Cady’s soft skin and the delicate Irish lilt in her voice. I
knew the next time I got in a girl’s panties, I would forget
all about the numerous times I blew my load on that one perfect night
with Cady. I was absolutely positive that she’d never be able
to hold my interest for very long, especially when I couldn’t
touch her… kiss her… fuck her. That’s what I
needed and that’s what I wanted, but yet… I wait each
day, wondering what her next email to me will say. And the truth of
the matter is… I haven’t been with another woman since
she left.
    It’s fucking
with my head… the way my feelings are starting to morph and
distend into something that I don’t even recognize about
myself.
    Whereas Zane
Kavanaugh basically liked to fuck his way through women, the man that
looks back in the mirror at me now finds pleasure in hearing about
Cady’s day, or the crazy antics of her best friend, Teagan, who
is apparently like a female version of me… or so Cady says. I
want to hear all about the pathetic guy that sits beside her in her
Educational and Social Policy class, and whether or not he’s
grown a pair of balls big enough to ask out the girl that sits on the
other side of him. He apparently whines to Cady about it quite a bit,
and it’s hilarious the way she tries to buck him up to no
avail. She’s made it her mission to fortify his backbone this
module—they call them modules, not semesters—and get him
a date.
    My home screen
appears on my Mac, and I quickly hit the mail icon. It’s not
until my breath gushes out in relief over seeing an email from Cady
that I realize I had needed to hear from her a little too much. So,
in order to prove to myself that my entire existence isn’t
focused on hearing from the black-haired, blue-eyed temptress, I
purposely ignore her email and scroll through the others.
    That lasts all of
about thirty seconds. Then I’m clicking on IrishLass1990, so I
can get my daily dose of Cady.
     
    To: Zane
Kavanaugh
    From: Cady Dunne
    Subject: Victory
At Last
    Date: September
12, 2014
     
    I am pleased to
inform you that my meek little classmate has finally built up enough
nerve to approach her. God, Zane… my heart was pounding as I
watched him walk up to her after class, repetitively wiping his hands
on his pants because you and I both know how sweaty they were, right?
I swear… his face was actually a shade of green when she made
eye contact with him. But it went off better than expected. His
stutter was to a minimum and even though he kept glancing at me for
emotional reassurance, he got the words out. I think it was something
like, “Wouldyoupleasegooutwithme?” He practically
screamed it at her and it came out so fast, I couldn’t
understand what he said, and I know she didn’t