by Kat Mizera
She was staring at me intently, imploring me to understand something important to her. And this was about so much more than her virginity. I knew that instinctively. I probably should have made excuses and gotten the hell out of here, but I didn’t want to. I’d had my first sexual experience a long time ago and hadn’t been with a virgin since high school. Definitely not since getting to college. But again, this wasn’t actually about her virginity. At least not entirely.
“Ellie, I won’t pretend to understand what you’ve gone through, being forced to grow up so fast and not being able to be a kid or a teenager or even a regular college student. All I know is what’s in front of me, and so far, I see a gorgeous girl who’s spectacularly smart but also likes to laugh, with a touch of a dirty mind and probably a lot more layers than I’ve seen yet. I don’t know what people have said in the past to make you think you’re not normal, but I don’t believe there’s any such thing. Hell, what does normal even mean? Is it normal that I have the athletic skill to play hockey at the level I do? Technically, it’s not. Less than one percent of the population has it. That doesn’t make me a freak or whatever—it just makes me, well…me. It’s part of what makes me Patrick Graham. And your smarts, your photographic memory, all of that makes you Ellie McGinn. If your definition of normal includes being like everyone else, then I’m really glad you’re not because that would mean you would be just another random chick and we wouldn’t have this incredible chemistry.”
She stared at me for a minute and then she kissed me. And it wasn’t the shy, tentative kissing we’d shared the first couple of times we’d done it. This time she was all fucking in, and it was a damn good thing we were in the middle of the campus compound in frigid weather with snow falling, or I might have pushed her up against the nearest wall and stuck my hand down her pants. I didn’t know what was happening here or why agreeing that she wasn’t exactly normal turned her on, but it obviously did and it was great.
“Okay, babe, I think that’s enough of a show for the compound,” I whispered, pulling away. “You want to continue this back in your room, let’s go.”
She smiled and we started to walk again. “We still have to talk about sex.”
“Because you’re ready or because you’re not?”
“Ironically, both.”
“Explain?” I had no idea what she meant.
“Mentally, I’m so ready it’s not even funny. Emotionally, I think we need to work up to it. I haven’t done anything, Patrick. Like what we’ve done, kissing and touching on the outside of our clothes? That’s it.”
“So you want to start at the beginning? We’re still on first base and can probably get to second pretty easily. Then we work up to third and not even worry about going all the way until you decide the time is right.”
“That works for me, but are you okay with that? When was the last time you dated someone who wasn’t having sex with you?”
“Never,” I said solemnly. “But you are having sex with me. Just not intercourse. It’s not sex-sex, but it’s still sex.”
“Sex lite,” she chortled.
“Diet sex,” I agreed, laughing.
“Which means at some point, you’re going to want to cheat on your diet,” she said softly.
“When the time is right, we’ll plan the cheat day together.”
I slept over again but we’d gone to sleep early. I needed my rest because I worked hard six days a week. Sunday was usually my only day off and I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep Saturday night, but I’d explained how intense my schedule was Monday through Saturday and she’d been on board. It was different to be having sleepovers with a girl I wasn’t having intercourse with, but there was suddenly no rush. I had a lot going on and while I was hornier than fuck, the trade-off was spending time with someone unlike anyone I’d ever met. And at this early stage, I wasn’t going to overthink it.
Practice that week was hardcore and I’d barely seen Ellie at all, though we’d texted and talked on the phone at night. I’d met her for a quick coffee yesterday but we’d barely had thirty minutes and were both distracted and busy. I was on my way to meet her now for our tutoring session and I was glad because, although I’d gone to classes and taken notes, I hadn’t had time for much in the way of homework or studying. It was a damn good thing I’d done all the reading over the weekend because it helped keep me on track. There was a quiz tomorrow in statistics and I wanted to be ready.
“Hey.” She smiled up at me from where she was sitting. We’d decided to meet in the library because being alone at her place would undoubtedly lead to distractions and we couldn’t afford them during the week.
“Hi.” I dropped a quick kiss on her upturned face and sank down next to her.
“How’s your week going?” she asked.
“Not bad. Busy. How about yours?”
“Same.”
“Quiz in stat tomorrow, so I need to kill it. My coach gets my first progress reports Friday, so if I tank it, I’m benched Friday night.”
“We’ve got this.” She pulled out a pencil. “Okay, let’s see where you are.”
We studied until almost eleven even though we technically were only supposed to go until nine, but I was determined to do well and she seemed happy to go over each principle multiple times.
“I’m beat,” I said, closing my book. “I need to get some rest.”
“Okay.” She started packing up her things. “Will I see you Friday afternoon or will you be getting ready for the game?”
“The games this weekend are out of town, so the team is leaving around noon.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Where are you going?”
“Upstate New York. Clarkson and St. Lawrence.”
“How far is that?”
“About three hours.”
“Maybe I could drive up for Saturday’s game and spend the night, if the weather isn’t crazy.”
“Why don’t you see if Naomi wants to go and then you wouldn’t be alone?”
“I’ll do that.” She nodded.
“All right. I have to go.” I got up and helped her get her coat on. “You want to meet for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Sure.”
We walked outside and I lightly kissed her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Saturday night’s game was rough and I took a stick to the eye in the second period, which sent me back to the locker room for stitches. The penalty on the other team had earned us a goal but my face was throbbing and I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and down a fistful of Tylenol. Except Ellie and Naomi were here, probably waiting to go get some food or something, and I didn’t know how to tell Ellie I wasn’t in the mood for anything but sleep.
“How’s the face?” Paxton asked me once we were on the bus headed to the hotel.
I shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“Liar.”
I smiled. “It’s not bad. I just need some Tylenol and a good night’s sleep.”
He arched a brow. “You invited your girl to an away game and now you’re gonna blow her off?”
“Of course not. She’ll understand.”
“Naomi and I were thinking we could split up… She could stay with me in our room and you could go with Ellie to theirs.”
“Sounds good.”
My head was killing me so I didn’t care what we did, and by the time Ellie and Naomi met up with us at the hotel, I could barely keep my eyes open.
“Patrick?” Ellie’s eyes filled with concern the moment she saw me. She glanced at Paxton. “How hard did he get hit?”
“Pretty hard,” Paxton acknowledged, “but the team’s medical staff didn’t seem to think it was hard enough for concussion protocol.” Special steps were taken if there was even a chance there might be a concussion, but they hadn’t thought so for this. Now I was beginning to wonder.
Ellie ran gentle fingers along my brow, around the area where the stitches were, without actually touching t
hem. Her fingers felt cool against my sore skin and I closed my eyes.
“Maybe you should stay here,” she whispered after a moment. “Close to your trainers and stuff. Just in case.”
I met her gaze and then glanced at my brother. “You guys mind?”
“Why don’t we all stay here?” Naomi suggested lightly. “It’s not like Pax and I don’t have time alone together. Watching over you is far more important. And this way, if you do have to call your trainers or whoever, Paxton will already be here so no one will wonder where he is.” Technically, we weren’t allowed to have guests or sleep anywhere but the team hotel, though most of us broke the rules more often than anyone liked to admit.
“I should go get my stuff then,” Ellie said.
“Don’t go alone,” I murmured. “It’s late.”
“I’ll go with her,” Naomi said. “And we can pick up takeout on the way back because Pax said he’s hungry. Do you want anything, Patrick?”
I shook my head. “Nah. I’m good. I just want to lie down.”
“Room 1412,” Paxton told them as he guided me back toward the elevator. “You want to call Coach?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m okay. My face is throbbing but I’ll pop some Tylenol and close my eyes for a bit.”
“You’re a fun date,” Paxton quipped.
I would have rolled my eyes but it hurt too much.
11
Ellie
Patrick was fast asleep when Naomi and I got back to their room. She, Paxton, and I ate the burgers we’d picked up and then they snuggled up on their bed, watching something on TV, and I crawled in beside Patrick. He hadn’t moved since we’d gotten back, which worried me a little, but Paxton assured me he was okay. If the team’s staff had thought there was anything wrong that a few stitches couldn’t fix, they wouldn’t have let him come back to his room.
I still didn’t like it, so even after Paxton and Naomi turned out the lights and went to sleep, I watched him. I pulled out my laptop and searched everything I could on a correlation between concussions and eye injuries and there didn’t appear to be any, but I worried anyway. Obviously, it was impossible to know exactly how hard he’d been hit, and he had professionals who’d checked him out afterward, so I didn’t think he was in imminent danger. It was just my first time going through something like this with him and my scientific background probably made me more of a worrywart than I should have been. The part of me my mother would insist would make me a fantastic doctor. She didn’t understand I was more likely to find the cure for concussions, rather than spend any time treating them.
I didn’t want to think about her tonight, because in addition to making sure Patrick was okay, there was also the added bonus of getting to watch him sleep. Even with stitches, a bandage and a bruise on one side of his face, he was still the most gorgeous guy I’d ever known. He was rugged and masculine, but also classically handsome, with straight features and full, well-formed lips. I could look at him for hours, drinking in every detail.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, Patrick was gently shaking me.
“Babe?” His hand was warm on my arm. “Were you up all night?”
Those gorgeous blue eyes of his bore into mine and I blinked sleepily. “Mmm, most of the night. I wanted to make sure you were okay. Concussions are serious, you know?”
“But I don’t have one.”
“But you were showing some vague symptoms and I didn’t want to take a chance.” We were both whispering since Paxton and Naomi were still asleep, but Patrick lifted the covers and motioned for me to get in. I slid beneath them and he pulled me up against him.
“You’re incredible, Ellie.” He kissed the side of my face. “You didn’t have to, but it means the world to me that you did. Thank you.”
“I was worried.”
“I know.” He reached out to run his knuckles along my cheek. “But I’m fine. I took a shot on the side of my eye and it was so sore it gave me a headache. That’s all it was. I slept it off and now I feel great. And really fucking hungry.”
I giggled. “You’re always hungry.”
“I’m a growing boy.”
“Uh-huh.” I nestled against his chest.
“I can’t believe you sat up all night watching me sleep.”
I wasn’t sure if I answered, because I fell asleep.
The guys had to drive back on the bus with the rest of the team, so when we got up again a couple of hours later, Naomi and I made the three-hour drive home. The bus was about an hour behind us so I took a long shower and was just about to turn on my computer when my mother’s name flashed on the screen of my phone. I chewed my lip while I debated answering, but finally picked it up because the last thing I wanted was for her to call once Patrick got here.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Ellie, you lied to me.”
I grimaced. There were probably a dozen things I’d lied to her about lately, so who knows which one she’d caught me in.
“What did I do now?” I asked, sinking onto my bed and staring at the ceiling.
“You never applied to Johns Hopkins.”
Nope. I sure hadn’t. I hadn’t applied to Harvard or Columbia or NYU either.
“Ellie, I’m waiting.”
“For what?” This wasn’t going to go well, but I was in too deep to put it off any longer.
“What in the world is going on with you? Why would you jeopardize your entire future by not doing the things you’re supposed to do?”
“I’m not jeopardizing anything,” I said calmly. “I’m already in a Ph.D. program here at Moo U. The only question now is whether I want to move into biotechnology or—”
“That is not what we discussed!” The increasing volume of her voice told me she was getting mad, but it was time we got this over with.
“Mom, I don’t want to go to medical school. I don’t know how many ways I can tell you and show you that, but you’re not listening. I’m not going to spend the next dozen years studying something I’m not even remotely interested in.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. This is your future. All the testing we had done pointed specifically to medicine and—”
“No, it didn’t.” This time I interrupted her. “It pointed specifically to science. Which is exactly what I’m doing.” My parents had some ridiculous psychological testing done to find out exactly what career I was most suited for. The results had been stupid, but essentially pointed to things like medicine, science, and research. My mother had immediately zoned in on the medical aspect. But they weren’t the same damn thing.
“I didn’t spend the last five years supporting you for you to become a goddamn teacher!” she yelled.
“Supporting me?” I asked quietly. “If this is what you call support, I’d hate to see what no support is. You haven’t supported a single thing I’ve wanted to do since I was twelve. Starting with playing the flute or letting me dye my hair blue.”
“What are you talking about? You had no time to play the flute and why the hell would you want your hair blue?”
“Because that’s what teenagers do,” I said softly.
“Elizabeth, this isn’t acceptable. I spoke to my friend at Harvard and based on your background, they could pull a few strings. You’d have to send in your records and—”
“Mom!” I spoke a little more sharply than I’d intended. “Listen to me. I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. A. Doctor.” I enunciated slowly, with as much conviction as I could muster. My mom kind of scared me most of the time, but this was too big, too important, for me to let her walk all over me.
“You’re going to be a doctor!” she hissed.
“I’m not.”
There was a long silence before she said, “You have to trust I know what’s best for you.”
“And you have to trust that I’m an adult and the one who has to actually do the work. Forcing me to do something I’m not interested in isn’t going to end well for any
of us, and in the end, I’m going to be hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt for a career I don’t want.”
“I can’t let you destroy your life because you’re too young to understand what’s best for your future.”
“Mom, please don’t do this.”
“I could say the same to you.”
“I don’t want to be a doctor. Why is that so hard to understand? And what’s wrong with being a scientist?”
“You were born for something special!”
“And maybe I’ll find it in my research.”
“This isn’t debatable. I want to be copied on the emails you send to Harvard putting everything in motion. If it’s not done, I’ll be coming for the car on Friday.”
“Well, then please bring all of my things with you when you come, because I won’t be coming home. Ever again.” I disconnected and burst into tears.
I was still crying when Patrick got there forty-five minutes later. He took one look at my red, blotchy face and pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly.
“What happened?” he asked as he held me. “Why are you crying?”
“M-my…M-mom.” I burst into tears all over again and he stroked my hair as I managed to choke out what had happened.
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry.” We’d collapsed on my bed with him still holding me.
I was equal parts hurt and furious. My mother was overbearing and manipulative, and though my father usually played mediator between us, he wanted me to go to medical school too, so I probably wasn’t going to get any help this time.
“What can I do?” he whispered as I finally stopped crying.
“Just hold me,” I whispered back.
We lay there for a long time, his warm hands moving up and down my back, over my arms, occasionally stroking my hair. With him holding me like this, nothing else mattered and I could forget everything. My mother, the future, and all the indecision surrounding me both academically and professionally.
