Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
I wound my arms around him tighter and inhaled his scent, relishing his warmth. “Guess I’ll be four for four.”
“Jackass,” he murmured as his eyes shut and he promptly fell asleep.
23
Maclain
As my data-structures professor droned on about the upcoming final, I thought about how the last couple of weeks had been some of the best of my life. Probably why I was also feeling an impending sense of doom, which always seemed present, if I were being honest. But instead of giving in to the urge to build a fortress around myself, I was actually fighting it. Mostly.
We had finals to study for, practices and games, and I’d slept in Girard’s bed a handful more times, even sneaking away after the fundraiser. Which, surprisingly, hadn’t resulted in a bloody nose this time, only longing looks as we kept our distance in front of the team. Thankfully, Kellan and Donovan didn’t give us away; they had much the same going on last season. It felt good but also scary that we’d let more people into our circle of trust. I’d never really had that before, not like this.
Last night, I’d showed up at the bowling alley under the pretense of beating Gemma and Girard in air hockey—I failed miserably, of course—then let their mom feed me in exchange for helping their dad figure out more computer stuff. They really needed a complete overhaul of their outdated system, so patching up the small fires was only a short-term solution, but I didn’t want to overstep, knowing their family was trying to keep afloat, according to little things Girard had told me.
When he’d invited me to his apartment to hang out, I felt especially on guard, as if we’d be discovered behind a locked door. I could sense Girard’s exasperation with me but also his understanding. It wasn’t like he was out to his family either.
That had been the third time he’d fucked me, and each time was better than the last. He seemed to understand my needs—to feel consumed by him, to feel the burn as he fucked me into the mattress. Each time I’d fallen asleep with his fingers buried in my ass because he somehow understood that, too, that I needed the sense of fullness. I’d been empty for so long.
Holy fuck.
My cheeks burned at the idea that I’d allowed him such intimacy. But I knew there were things he craved, too, like me using one of his nicknames in the heat of passion or straight after when we were tangled up. Or when I kissed him through his orgasm so I could swallow his noises and feel him shudder. I’d held out on him, and now he couldn’t get enough, and neither could I. I’d never loved making out with someone more.
Girard had shown me sides of myself I’d never been in tune with before, and I’d always remember him for it. My heart ached at the thought of all this ending because it inevitably would, along with school and baseball. Besides, I was too much for people, or maybe not enough, and life had a way of sucker punching you in the gut when you least expected it. But this time, I knew it was coming, so why not enjoy it for a little longer?
My phone was on silent, but I felt it buzz in my pocket. I carefully pulled it out and read the text from Girard. Speak of the devil.
Let’s go on a date.
I smiled, even though I knew it would never happen, at least not around campus. But it was a nice thought and one I’d never considered before. Fucking Girard.
That would imply we’re actually dating.
You’re right. Gross. Let’s grab some food and only pretend that we enjoy each other’s company. Better?
Better. But you can’t be serious.
I am. If we’re doing this unnamed thing that is absolutely not dating, why not something more public that doesn’t involve bowling or baseball?
I don’t know. Maybe.
Sounds like a yes to me.
Jackass.
C’mon, let’s do it. Think of ideas.
I’d admit it was fun playing pretend with him.
Pizza place?
The one near campus had become a favorite.
You’d freak and make us sit at separate booths or something.
Guilty.
Anywhere we went I’d feel on guard that we’d run into someone. On the other hand, it was only sharing a meal. Why was I so uptight?
Because I knew it was more, and I was afraid it’d be written all over my face. It was hard enough to keep up the pretense around the team and Girard’s family.
Where could we go…? I wasn’t in the mood for Neon, and besides, they didn’t serve food. And then I had an idea.
How about Mexican food? The place I’m thinking of is about an hour away.
Perfect!
Going someplace alone with Girard still freaked me out, even if it was far enough away, and yet I couldn’t stop smiling like a goof all day. Ugh.