by Jacob Chance
Slowly sliding my palms up over his stomach I can feel each ripple of his muscles and how they contract from my touch. He growls, and the deep sound sends flutters of energy through every inch of me before it settles between my thighs.
His lips skim across my cheek to nibble on the bottom of my ear and then trail under my jaw. He presses biting kisses down my neck and along the curve of my shoulder. “God, you’re so fucking sexy. I’ve never wanted someone so badly.”
His words remind me I’m just one of the many he’s had and break the heady spell consuming me. My hands move between us, urgently pressing on his chest. “Stop.”
Trevor releases me instantly. “What’s wrong?” He looks concerned.
“What are we doing?” Panic invades every inch of me. Why did I let this happen? Kissing him is not the way to keep him out. “This never should have happened. It’s a huge mistake.”
“The fuck it is. That didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”
“It doesn’t matter what it felt like. We need to forget it ever happened.” I step backward twice and rub my damp palms on the thighs of my jeans. “What’s left to do back here before we lock up?”
“So, that’s how you want to play this?”
“Trevor it’s not a game. We’re not playing at anything. This is real life and real emotions.” I wish I could say the words I want to. I’m starting to feel too much for you. I’m sorry. I can’t let this happen. But it’s better if he thinks I’m a shrew who can’t make up her mind about what she wants.
“You think I don’t know that? I’m the one who’s been kicked over and over by you and I just keep taking it like some dumbass who never learns. If you want to pretend it never happened then we can do that.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m done with trying to convince you we’d be great together. I’ll mop the floors and then we can go.”
Chapter Twelve
Trevor
“I told your dad I’d give you a ride home.” My keys jingle in my hand as I spin the ring around on my index finger.
She pulls out her phone. “I’ll call an Uber.”
“Grace, don’t be stubborn. I gave him my word, and you’re not making me break it.” Pressing on the remote, I unlock the doors and open the passenger side for her. “Get your ass in my car.” My brow elevates as she stares defiantly at me. “Don’t make me throw you inside.” She huffs and flounces past me, sinking down onto the seat. “Buckle up, Red.” I close the door and make my way around to the driver’s side. The black leather is a soft cushion underneath me as I turn the key in the ignition, firing up the engine.
I pull out of the space and we’re on our way. The smooth ride of my Range Rover hides the horrific conditions of the Massachusetts roads. The silent atmosphere of the vehicle’s interior thickens with tension as each minute passes. Refusing to bridge the awkwardness stretching between us like a huge chasm, I focus on the road in front of us. There are barely any cars due to the late hour, and if luck is with me I’ll have her back at her dorm in ten more minutes.
“Are you ever going to speak to me again?” Grace’s voice shatters the silence.
“What are you talking about? I just spoke to you before we got in the car.”
“Only because you had to,” she grumbles.
“Grace, I don’t know what you want from me. You told me to forget about the kiss, so that’s what I’m trying to do. I like you and want to date you, but you don’t feel the same. I’m not going to beg you to go out with me.”
“We can still be friends, can’t we?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
“What would you call it?”
“Acquaintances. Isn’t that what you called it when I suggested us being friends?”
“That was before I got to know you better.”
“You don’t like much about me anyway. Why would you want to be my friend?”
“I never said I didn’t like you.”
“Really? You’ve never mentioned anything positive about me that’s for sure. Usually when I’m friends with someone I think they’re a good person. You can’t say that about me.”
“I think you’re a good person.”
“But?”
Out of my periphery I notice her small shrug. “We’re just different.”
“Then why bother being friends?”
“People don’t have to be alike to get along.”
“We might be the exception to the rule. I think it’s better for both of us if we keep our distance.” My phone rings preventing any reply she may have given.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Hi, Trevor.”
“Mom, how are you?” I smile at the sound of her voice. It’s comforting to hear it. Especially now with the mounting frustration. We haven’t spoken in almost a week.
“I’m good. How are you? I heard what your father did.” She expels a frustrated sigh.
“Did you know he was going to do that?” I have to know if she did.
“No, of course not. He told me once he came home. I tried to talk him into changing his mind, but you know how stubborn that man can be.”
“Yeah, I think I’m well aware.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I got a job a couple nights a week and I’m looking for a second one. I need more hours. Owen said he might be able to get me a bartending gig where he works.”
“Well, if you can’t swing it let me know. I have my own money and I’m glad to help you out.”
“I know you would, Mom, but I’m going to do this myself. I’ll show him I can and then he won’t be able to complain about my career choice.”
“Trevor, being a teacher is a noble profession. Shaping young minds is an incredible thing.”
“Thanks, Mom. I’m glad you think so.”
“I’m proud of you no matter what you do. I hope you know that.”
“I do. I love you.”
“I love you too. Call me soon.”
“I will. Bye.”
“Bye.” Ending the call, I drop the phone in the cup holder and grip the wheel with both hands. I sense Grace’s curious stare and flick my eyes in her direction. “Just ask.”
“Ask what?”
“Whatever it is you’re wondering. I can hear the gears grinding in your head. I’d rather just tell you what you want to know than have you speculating.” This is what started her misconceptions about me in the first place. Choosing to believe I act a certain way, she never bothered to discuss whether she was correct or not.
“I wasn’t going to ask you any questions. It seems like you’re close to your mom.”
“I am. My mom is awesome.”
“That’s nice.”
“Aren’t you close to yours?”
“Yes, but not like I am with my dad. He and I get along great. I take after him more than my mother.”
“You definitely look like him.”
“Yep, this red hair is straight from his side - the Irish side. His father had it too. My blue eyes come from my mom.”
“She must be pretty then.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because your eyes are extraordinary. How such a cool shade of blue can look so warm at times is beyond me.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Your eyes are an icy blue, and that’s a cool color.”
“I know that. I took an art class too.”
“You asked.” I lift a shoulder in a half shrug.
“I meant how are they warm?”
“When you smile, or get fired up the color changes and glows, like the blue part of a flame, the hottest part.”
“You notice so much.” Her words sound somewhat accusatory.
“I’ve always been observant, but for some reason I’ve taken it to another level when it comes to watching you.”
“Great. Do I have to worry about you stalking me?”
Maybe. I chuckle and then sober up as I remember I won’t be any
more. “No. Why? Does it bother you that I notice details most people don’t?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on. Tell me.”
“I don’t like people seeing more than I want them to.”
“If it’s any consolation, what I’ve observed only makes me… made me want to know you better. I think you’re beautiful even when you’re spitting fire.”
Pulling over to the curb in front of her building, I shift into park and glance her way. “I don’t want things to be weird between us at work. I’m not going to make you uncomfortable.”
“Trevor, it’s okay. I meant what I said about us being friends. You’re a great guy and if I was in a place to start dating someone you’d be a solid choice.”
I laugh. “Spare me the soliloquy on what a great guy I am. I get it. You’ve been the same from the moment we met so I have no one to blame but myself. I don’t need to force someone to like me. There are plenty of girls who will appreciate me.”
Grace places her hand on the handle and turns her head meeting my eyes. She seems sad and I’m not sure why she would be. She got what she’s wanted all along. “Thank you for the ride. I’ll see you in class.”
“See ya.” She slips out the door while I battle with myself. Clenching my teeth, my hands grip the steering wheel as I resist the urge to call her back. I know I’m doing the right thing by giving up on any kind of relationship developing between us. Her reaction after our scorching kiss showed me all I need to know. I wish I hadn’t kissed her. Now I’m going to remember the warm softness of her lips and the smooth sensation of her tongue stroking mine. I can still feel every inch of her body imprinted on me and how magically she fit as if she was sculpted for me alone.
Watching until she’s safely inside, I shift into drive and pull back onto the city street. My apartment is only a few blocks away and I can’t wait to get home and drink a beer. I’m going to lose myself in some mindless television and forget this night ever happened.
“T, don’t forget we’re having dinner at my gram’s tomorrow,” Owen reminds me as we head out of the locker room.
“Bro, are you kidding? I’ve been looking forward to this meal for two weeks now. Grammy’s making me apple pie, right?”
Owen laughs, “Yes, she told me there will be apple pie and an extra one for you to bring home.”
“Awesome. Grammy loves me best.” I pump my fist.
“Fuck off and get your own grandmother.”
“I have two, but they don’t cook like yours does. They buy me gifts, but sadly there’s no pie. How do they not know homemade apple pie beats gifts anyday?”
“It’s a dessert, dude. What’s so great about it?”
I gasp and clutch my chest. “Don’t insult Grammy’s pie. Clearly your taste buds are dead if you’re asking this question.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I’ve never been obsessed with apple pie. Maybe you’re just crazy.”
“Crazy for pie.” I wink and he shoves me to the other side of the hallway with a chuckle.
“I’m crazy for pie too, just not the same kind,” Owen jests.
“I’m a pie connoisseur. I like them all. I don’t discriminate,” I retort.
We step through the open doors exiting the stadium and my smile fades when I notice my brother, Brady, and Harlow standing there with Amelia and Grace. What’s she doing here? She shows for a game now that things are strained with us, but not when I invited her. Perfect and so fucking typical. Everything is upside down with Grace.
Brady steps forward to fist bump both of us. “Great game, guys. I think this team is the strongest one we’ve had.”
“Even though you and your friends aren’t on it?”
“On second thought, maybe not,” he laughs.
“Ha, I figured as much.”
Harlow steps forward to hug Owen and I while Amelia and Grace hang back. I avoid looking in their direction.
“You guys want to head out for dinner with us?” Brady asks. “The girls want to go to Gino’s. Amelia and Grace have never eaten there.”
Opening my mouth to say no, Owen beats me to it, accepting the offer. Turning my head in his direction, I give him my best fuck off glare. He was already at the apartment when I arrived home from work last night. He prodded all the sorry details of what happened with Grace out of me and he knows I’m trying to avoid contact with her as much as possible.
“Come on. We can torment Zeke with how we got to spend time with his girl. Nothing will piss him off more.”
“You have a point.” Getting payback at Zeke for all the pranks he’s pulled on us over the past year is a great way to spend the next few hours. It could be a nice distraction. “Okay, let’s go.”
Owen and I throw our bags in the trunk of my car and then we begin the trek to the restaurant. It’s only a few blocks from the stadium and finding a parking spot on a Saturday night would be near impossible.
Brady and Harlow take up the front and Owen and Amelia fall in behind them. Somehow I end up walking next to Grace at the back of the pack. I can’t bear to look in her direction. If I do, my resolve to stay away will vanish and that can’t happen. As it is, I want to pull her into one of the alleys and kiss some sense into her.
“You guys kicked some serious ass. I was really impressed. I couldn’t have done better myself.” Amelia nudges Owen’s arm. “Maybe we should have a contest to see who can throw the ball more accurately.”
“I’m game. You just tell me when.”
She giggles. “Just kidding. I’m good, but I’m not that good. I can’t keep up with this.” She squeezes his right bicep.
Owen peers over his shoulder with a smirk. “All the girls like to touch it.”
Grace snorts and Amelia titters.
“What’s Zeke doing tonight?” Brady asks.
“He’s probably sitting at home counting down the days until he can openly stake his claim on Amelia.”
“That definitely sucks. How are you guys doing dealing with the no fraternization rule?” Harlow questions.
“We’re getting by. As much as I love playing football, I’m looking forward to the end of the season. I miss the big lug.”
“At least you get to see him at every practice and each game,” Harlow offers.
“I know, but I think it might be easier if I didn’t. It’s hard to keep our feelings hidden, and sometimes I think he’s harder on me so no one will notice.”
“That’s only going to make you a better player, so either way it’s a win,” Owen explains.
Brady opens the door to Gino’s and ushers everyone inside. My nose is immediately assaulted by the most delicious scents. Does anything smell better than Italian sauce simmering or fresh pizza baking?
We settle into a large u-shaped booth, and as luck would have it Grace is next to me. Am I being tested somehow? Is there some cosmic force pushing us together, or is this the universe’s way of playing a sick joke on me? The more I try to avoid being around her, the harder it’s become.
We order three large pizzas, french fries, and a salad for Grace. Brady grabs a pitcher of beer and one of water and places them in the middle of the table.
“Help yourself.”
Grabbing the beer I glance around at everyone. “Who wants some?” Everyone nods and I fill their glasses one at a time.
Grace mutters, “thank you,” quietly, as I hand her the glass. Our fingers touch as she removes it from my grasp, reminding me of the powerful chemistry between us. My chest tightens with frustration. I hope the energy we share dissipates soon. I don’t want to be reminded of what could’ve been everytime we’re near one another.
“Can I make a toast?” Amelia inquires breaking me out of my brooding.
“Of course,” Harlow nods.
“I’d just like to say thank you for making me feel so welcome. You’ve all been great about including me as if I’ve always been here and part of your group. It means a lot. I’m sure Grace feels the same.”
> Glancing at Grace side-eye I notice her nod. What’s wrong with her tonight? She’s barely said two words. In fact, I’m not sure she’s spoken at all aside from thanking me. Is she uncomfortable because of our talk last night, or does she have something else on her mind? It doesn’t matter because it’s not my place to care. But how do I stop myself from fucking caring?
Chapter Thirteen
Trevor
We decide to stop at C’s for a couple drinks. Music and chatter assault our ears as we step inside. One of the more popular pubs on campus, this place is packed as usual. Brady leads the way, weaving in and out of groups of people standing together conversing until we’re next to the bar. He orders a round of beers and once they’re in our hands we walk toward the back seating area.
We gather around a table as soon as the occupants step away and slide onto the stools. Once again I manage to sit next to Grace. Shifting her weight on the wooden seat, she rests her feet on the metal rungs. The sweet smell of her perfume wafts over, teasing me, dredging up memories of what her skin felt like under my lips. Her nearness taunts me, making me wish for things that will never be. I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath, giving myself a mini pep talk. Hang in there for a little bit longer. You’ll be going home soon.
Quickly gulping down my beer, I rise to my feet and hold up my empty bottle. “Anyone need anything?” The girls all shake their heads.
“I’ll go with you,” Brady stands. We make our way back to the bar and slip into an open space.
“What’s been going on with you, little brother?” Brady leans in from the other side of me. He gestures at my empty beer. “I can tell something’s wrong.”
“Maybe I’m thirsty.”
“Come on, tell me what’s up.”
