by Lisa De Jong
“About what we’re doing. I haven’t been in a single relationship since I got here, so anytime I’m with a girl, it’s—”
“For sex?” she cuts me off.
I scrub my hand over my chin while I formulate my response. Technically, the answer is yes, but I don’t want her to think it happens all the time. “If you want me to be honest … yes, but it’s probably not like you think.”
She looks down at her fingers before moving her eyes back to me, her mouth opening and closing a couple times before she finds her words. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”
My mouth falls open before I regain my composure. She’s wrong. She’s so fucking wrong … she should be embarrassed to be seen with me. “No, I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. I didn’t want the guys to think we’re together like that. You’re not the type of girl they’re used to seeing me with, and you don’t deserve the things they’d say if they thought we were.”
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
I pull up to a stoplight, taking the opportunity to sneak another look at her. “I know, but I’m not going to put you in that position if I can help it.”
She shakes her head, keeping her sights on the passing streetlights.
“Have you ever been to a college party?” I ask, trying to do what I do best and change the subject.
She studies me for a few seconds before she answers. “I went to Beau’s.”
“Emery, that was a get-together, not a party.”
“What’s the difference?”
Normally, I would laugh at this conversation, but Emery’s not dumb. She’s just naïve, and I want to help her open her eyes to the world outside of her studies. “I could count the number of people at Beau’s on my fingers and toes. What I’m talking about is a packed house, kegs of beer, and loud music.”
“Then no, I’ve never been to a college party before.”
I pull my car onto the street that will host tonight’s post game party, looking for a space to park. “We’re going to change that then.”
After squeezing my car into a small space, I turn it off and pull my blazer off my shoulders. “Ready?” I ask, reaching for my door handle.
She opens the door without replying, and I’m left to try and catch up.
“Emery!”
She keeps walking, following the crowd to the front door of a two-story brick house. She needs her space. I get it, but if she thinks she’s going to run away from me and disappear into that house by herself, she’s wrong. So fucking wrong.
The crowd inside slows her progress, allowing me to catch up. “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, lightly wrapping my hand around her wrist.
She tries to pull away, but I don’t let her go. “Let go of me.”
“Answer my question.”
“You have a lot of nerve, you know? You can’t walk through a freaking parking lot with me, but you want to go to a party together. You don’t make any sense.”
Letting go of her wrist, I step back. I’m a fucking walking contradiction. All the things I was worried about back in that parking lot are nothing compared to what people are going to think if we’re here together. I get so caught up in the little things sometimes that I miss the bigger picture. I guess I thought when we got to the party, we’d blend in, but I forgot who I am. There’s no chance I’m going in there unnoticed.
“That’s what I thought,” she says, pulling my jersey over her head. “Why don’t you give this to someone who has time for your mind games. I’ve got better things to do.”
And just like that, she turns, walking deeper into the packed crowd. I should follow her, but I know I deserve it, and she needs her space.
I wanted to protect her. Fuck, maybe I wanted to protect myself. Every minute I spend with her is beginning to mean something to me. I want to be around her, and watch her do things that might make her smile. She’s so closed up all the time, and I know she’ll regret it at some point. There are things in life everyone should experience. I had every intention of doing this with her, but I never imagined she would read so much into the distance I was putting between us.
After circling the living room, I walk into the kitchen and find her grabbing a soda from one of the coolers. At least she’s not drinking, I think, as I lean my shoulder against the wall to watch her. The cheerleader who brought the note to her at halftime, Missy I think her name is, appears at her side, and they start talking. When Emery rolls her eyes, I can only assume they’re talking about me, and I take it as my cue to disappear again. That’s my plan for the night—give her some space while keeping her in my sights.
I’m not more than three steps into the crowd when a small hand wraps around my bicep. As I turn, I realize it’s not who I’d hoped.
“Hey, Drake, good game today.” Fuck. It’s Olivia. I swear she has a GPS chip embedded under my skin or something.
“Thanks,” I mutter, scanning the people around me. It’s about time I find Emery again.
“Do you want some company tonight?”
“Do I look like I want company tonight?” I haven’t looked her in the eyes once. That should be a hint.
“You’re obviously looking for something. Let me help you,” she says, snaking her finger between two of the buttons on my shirt.
I pull her hand away from my chest. “That’s not going to happen tonight or any other night. How much longer is it going to take before that sinks in?”
She purses her bright red lips as she looks over my shoulder. “It’s your loss,” she says, leaning in to kiss my cheek before I have a chance to react.
I watch as she walks away with a grin on her face. Girls like her make me want to lock my sisters up for the rest of their lives. I guess I want them to be more like Emery. I don’t want them to chase after guys, especially ones like me.
After straightening my shirt, I walk to the corner of the room where a makeshift bar is setup and throw back two beers. I need something to loosen all the damn tension in my body. Two probably won’t cut it, but I need to keep an eye on Emery.
Scanning the room again, I see her standing with Cole Dillon, laughing at whatever he’s talking about. Cole’s one of the few guys on the team who I don’t consider to be a complete dickhead, at least when it comes to the way he treats girls. He’s one of the only guys who doesn’t disappear into a bedroom every Saturday night at these parties. He’s also the type of guy Emery deserves, which makes watching this that much more difficult.
I stay put, trying to convince myself she’s a big girl and can do what she wants, but I’m not good at this, and it all goes out the fucking window when he puts his hand on her arm. My jaw clenches as I walk to where they stand, ignoring the crowds of people I pass. Just as I reach them, Emery throws her head back in laughter again, and Cole looks at her with a loving glint in his eye. At this point, he’ll be lucky if I throw the ball to him at all next Saturday.
When Emery finally sees me, she stops, putting her hand on Cole’s forearm. “Hey, Drake, why didn’t you tell me Cole was so funny?”
My cheeks are probably bright red, because my face is fucking burning. “I guess I didn’t realize Cole was a comedian off the field.” There’s a venomous bite to my voice. The way his expression changes tells me he heard it.
“He was telling me stories about the team’s road trips. I’m surprised any of these guys have girlfriends.” She smiles, bumping her shoulder against his. If she’s trying to irritate me, she’s doing a great job.
I clench my fists at my sides, trying hard to hold myself back. “I think it’s time for us to go,” I say, staring straight at her.
“But I’m just starting to have fun. Besides, you didn’t really want to come here together anyway. I’m sure Cole will give me a ride home.” She looks up to Cole again, and I swear to God she winks.
I can’t do this anymore. I know she’s mad about what happened earlier, and if she’s trying to get back at me, she’s succeeding. I can’t
remember the last time I wanted to punch somebody, especially someone I like.
Grabbing her free hand in mine, I walk to the door, giving her no choice but to follow. At first she drags her feet, but I’m almost double her weight. She’s not going to win this battle.
“Drake!” She tries to pull her fingers from mine, but I win again.
“We’re leaving,” I say, not bothering to look back.
Before I can take another step, Cole’s in front of me, eyes blazing. “I don’t think she wants to leave with you.”
“She came with me. Now get out of my way, Dillon. She’s fine,” I seethe. I just want to get the fuck out of here.
He glances back at Emery, and then steps out of my path, allowing me to walk past.
“Are you sure you don’t want to leave with Olivia?” I hear her faint voice behind me.
I stop, looking back. “What?”
She looks hurt. Genuinely hurt. “I saw you with her earlier. She must be good enough to be seen with here.”
Something snaps inside me. We continue to fight our way through the crowd, but before we reach the door, I change the plans. She tries to pull away from me, but I don’t let her. Maybe it’s the two drinks I’ve had or the emotion I’m drowning in, but I find myself pulling her into the half bath off the living room. The look on her face when my eyes catch hers again is one of shocked surprise.
When we’re both inside, I push the door shut, reaching behind her to lock it. She doesn’t take her eyes off me, and I can’t take mine off her. This girl … I don’t know what she’s doing to me.
“You’re good enough, Emery. In fact, you’re too fucking good for me. Don’t you get it? I want you so bad right now, but I’m fighting it because you should be with someone like Cole. He can be what you need … I can’t.”
Her eyes widen as she stares at me. “He’s not the one I want.”
Grabbing her hips, I pull her body so it’s flush against mine. She trembles in my hold, but the hungry look in her eyes begs me to continue.
I run my fingertips up her sides, feeling the smooth texture of her t-shirt against my skin. Her chest heaves as my lips move toward hers. She’s hesitant. I feel it. I see it. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this to her, or the second.
I stop when my lips are so close to hers, one might think we’re actually touching. Her warm breath tickles my skin, making it impossible to think. “I’m going to kiss you.”
She nods, resting her palms against my chest. And I do. First brushing my lips across hers, then holding them there, getting used to the feel of her skin. As my tongue traces the seam of her lips, my fingers find the hem of her shirt, moving up inside to caress her smooth stomach.
It’s the first time, in over a year, I’ve kissed a girl when I wasn’t completely drunk. And even though it’s been a while, I don’t remember it ever being like this. My whole fucking body trembles with need … one I’ve been fighting for far too long.
“Emery,” I groan as I pull my shirt over my head, “I want this so fucking much.”
She responds by wrapping her arms around my neck, pulling me closer. Even with her shirt between us, I feel her breasts pressed against my chest. It heightens my need, making me lose control of the rational part of my brain.
I run my hands down her back, stopping when they reach her perfect ass. Lifting her in my arms, I seat her on the edge of the sink and step in between her parted legs. My cock twitches when I press my body into hers. I want all of her.
My tongue moves with hers before traveling down her throat, tracing a line along her collarbone. “You taste so fucking good. So good,” I say, my lips moving along the center of her throat.
She moans as I roll my hips against hers, creating the friction I’ve been craving. “Drake.”
I need more. I want to taste more of her warm skin, to feel it against mine. Grabbing the bottom of her shirt on both sides, I begin pulling it up.
“Stop!” she yells, pushing against my chest. I freeze in place, wondering what the fuck just happened. This moment was more real than anything I’d experienced in a long time. For once, I’d let myself follow my heart, and it led me to her.
“Not tonight,” she adds, her palms still resting against my skin.
I lift my head, allowing me to see into her big brown eyes. There’s so much confusion in them, so much pain. I just want to make it all go away. “I can’t,” she whispers.
I cradle her cheek in my hand, caressing her soft skin with my fingertips. “I didn’t mean to push you.”
She tightly closes her eyes then opens them again. “I want to. I just … I can’t.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, my mouth is closing in on hers again. Just hearing her say that she wanted me fuels the fire that I’m finding impossible to put out. My lips brush against hers, but then stay frozen, waiting to see if she pulls back.
When she doesn’t, I brace my hands against the wall on either side of the mirror, effectively caging her in. It’s the only way I can keep my fingers from touching her soft skin. As my tongue presses between her lips, she scoots to the front of the sink, pressing our bodies close again.
After a few minutes of tugging and teasing, my lips move to the sensitive skin below her ear. “Do you want to stop?” I ask, nipping her earlobe between my teeth.
“Just kissing, Drake. Nothing more.” I pull on her earlobe again, enjoying the moan that escapes her lips.
“I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me right now,” I whisper, pressing my lips back to her skin.
She’s so controlled, but I’m crumbling a little more every time I’m with her.
HIS LIPS ONLY TOUCH MY NECK, but the tingle runs down the entire length of my body. Ten minutes ago, I was pissed off, and now I’m struggling to keep it from going any further. I’ve never felt this way before. No control. No worries.
It feels so damn good.
I’ve written him off a few times, but he keeps coming back, and there’s a reason I let him. I see through him … there’s a raging fight going on inside of him. He’s struggling. I’m struggling. We’re both addicted to the fight.
His thumb brushes across my breast, and that action, coupled with the friction of him pressed between my legs, gently rolling his hips against me, pushes my body over the edge. He covers my lips with his, swallowing my moans. It’s euphoric … the first time I’ve ever had an orgasm without the help of my own fingers. With passion, it is so much better, so much more intense.
As my body winds back down, he covers my face in light kisses, rubbing his hands in circles on my back. I should be relaxed, but the tension is returning … this is where the awkwardness starts to seep in. Should I return the favor? Does he expect me to? Do I even want to?
“What’s going through that pretty little head of yours?” he whispers so close to my ear, I feel his breath.
“Who said I was thinking?” I reply, trying to keep my voice even.
Brushing my hair behind my shoulder, he exposes my neck. “Your body is tense. Let me fix that for you.” His lips press to my exposed skin while he uses his fingers to lift my chin, giving him access to my throat.
He continues, tracing where his lips were with the tip of his tongue. Slowly, all my worries begin to fade away. This isn’t a test. It doesn’t require a study guide or a plan. It’s about us, locked in a moment.
When I’m relaxed again, he pulls back. I miss his kisses almost instantly. After helping me straighten my clothes and pulling his own shirt back over his head, he grips my hips and slides me down off the sink. “We should probably get out of here before someone needs to use the bathroom the way it was intended,” he says, a sexy grin showing on his face.
I nod, returning his smile. “Did you have something in mind?” Right about now, I’d go just about anywhere with him.
As he watches me, watching him, something changes in his eyes. He’s leaving me again, pulling back. “I should probably get you home,” he says, scrubbing his
hand over his face.
For the first time since he pulled me into this bathroom, he’s not touching me. He’s not looking at me. He’s checking out again; we’ve gotten to the point where I feel it coming. My chest instantly tightens, making it almost impossible to keep the uneasiness out of my voice as I grip the doorknob and pull it open. I’m going to be the one doing the running this time. “It looks like we’re done here anyway.”
Maybe I’m expecting him to grab me and tell me I misunderstood. Maybe I want him to ask me what’s wrong so I can release weeks of pent up anger. But he doesn’t. Why would he when he knows exactly what’s bothering me? The apologetic look on his face when I glance back over my shoulder tells me that much, but I still feel used. Like sometimes I’m good enough for him to take the next step with, but not good enough to take the one after.
I push past the crowd of students who have gathered in front of the door and make my way down the front steps without looking back again. I should be able to walk home; it’s not that cold outside and from my recollection, we can’t be more than a mile from campus.
“Where the fuck are you going?” he asks as I continue down the sidewalk. I ignore him, not wanting to get into this any deeper than what we already are. Ten minutes ago, we were treading with ease. Now, we’ve gone under … seconds away from drowning.
They say the ones worth fighting with are the ones worth fighting for.
I’m not so sure about that.
“Emery!” I hear his heavy brown shoes hitting the pavement, and I quicken my pace. Soon after, a large hand wraps around my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “You’re not walking home. Now get in the fucking car.”
I wiggle, trying to free myself from his hand. “You know what, Drake? I’m done. Just let me go, and we can pretend this night never happened.”
“It shouldn’t have happened. I think we both know that.” Guilt echoes in his voice.
“I didn’t regret it until you pulled this again. Why do you do it? Why do you pull me close and let me in only to drop me on my ass again? I’m done.”
