by Lisa De Jong
I lightly kiss the tip of her nose. “My mom left us, too. Not literally, but she spent days in her room, barely eating. I didn’t realize it then, but she’d fallen into a deep depression. A family friend started taking us to and from school, I made our dinner, made sure they took baths, and went to bed on time.”
“How long did it take her to come out of it?” She snuggles into my chest, laying her head under my chin.
“She hasn’t.” I wipe under my eyes, stopping the tears from rolling down my cheeks. This whole day has been too much, especially ending like this.
Her lips press to my chest. “How did you keep up with football? I mean, the practices and stuff.”
The vision of my dad in the backyard in his dress pants, button-up shirt, and loosened tie flashes through my mind. Every day, spring through fall, we were out in that backyard perfecting my skills. At first I loved it because of all the attention he was giving me, but there were days it became too much. It still is sometimes.
“Football was his dream. I’m doing everything I can to make it happen,” I whisper, wrapping her hair around my fingers.
She straightens, staring into my eyes. “Is it your dream?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know anymore.”
“Drake,” she starts, using her fingertip to straighten the lines that have formed on my forehead. “Have you ever talked about this with anyone? I mean, really talked through it all.”
“I can’t, not yet anyway. It brings up too many memories that I’d rather forget. Well, until you.” I stop, brushing my fingers between her breasts. “Help me forget again, Em. I need to forget.”
This whole night has had a pattern: sadness, sex, sadness. I kept my promise and gave her the biggest piece of me, and it actually took some weight off my chest. Now, I want to complete the pattern so I can forget again.
Rolling her onto her back, I seat myself between her legs and get completely lost again.
I didn’t spend the whole night with Emery. She mentioned that she didn’t know when her roommate would be back, and I took that as my cue.
I don’t know what I was expecting to feel when I woke up, but this wasn’t it. I crave more of her, even though I’ve seen it all. There’s no regret or guilt. There’s this big part of me that just wants to be with her.
My phone buzzes on my nightstand, startling me. I pick it up, immediately seeing the familiar number I usually avoid. Maybe it’s my relaxed mood, but I decide to answer. “Hello.”
“Drake.”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Her usual soft sigh comes over the line. I think knowing I’m here relaxes her. “How’s school?”
Covering my forehead with my hand, I rub my temples in a precautionary measure. “It’s good. Busy.”
“And football?”
“Coach is working us hard, but it’s been worth it so far. We’re undefeated.” Most parents come to at least our home games, but not my mom. I don’t even know if she checks the scores.
“I know,” she whispers, surprising me a little.
“You should come to a game this year. We have a shot at the Big Ten Championship,” I say, holding my breath as soon as the words leave my mouth.
Silence follows, and I bite my lip to keep myself from saying anything else. “I’ll see if I can make it. Money’s been short, but maybe toward the end of the season.” I know what’s coming next, and I fucking hate it. It’s the real reason she called. “Can I borrow some money? Tessa needs shoes for basketball, and I don’t have it.”
She doesn’t know this, but my sole purpose for having a job is to help cover the things she can’t. I work at the field a few nights a week, and every dollar I make goes into an account for moments like this. It doesn’t mean I like it, because I don’t. I fucking hate this life. “I’ll transfer some into your account later today.”
“Thank you. I really hate asking you.”
“It’s no problem,” I lie as I scrub my hand over my face.
“I applied for a new job at the insurance office.”
“That’s good.” It’s another lie. The whole town knows her, knows what she’s like. The chance of her getting a call from there or anywhere is slim.
“Well, I’ll let you go. Call me if you need anything.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Mom.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Tossing my phone onto the end of my bed, I fold my arms over my eyes. This is why I keep pushing Emery away. She’s worth more than this fucked up life I live. And I’m so drained from what I give my team and my family … I don’t know if I have anything left of me.
HE DIDN’T CALL YESTERDAY.
A few times I thought about calling him, even holding my finger over his name. I didn’t go through with it, though. I’m tired of being the one who’s chasing him. The one who’s constantly getting hurt, because I’m putting myself out there, and he doesn’t see it.
As I step into the classroom, I grab a seat toward the middle. Not wanting to be front and center or hiding in the back. I just want to blend in. I’m so frustrated with Drake Chambers, I don’t know if I want him to see me or not. I guess it would depend on what happens next.
As I wait for the professor to take her spot behind the podium, I start to wonder if Drake will even show. He opened up big time on Saturday night, and it was hard to hear. I wanted to cry for him, but I could tell he was working hard to hold it all in. A few tears escaped, but I didn’t let myself completely fall apart. It’s his story, not mine.
“Em.” Looking up, I see Drake in his low-slung jeans and a fitted black tee. He waits until our eyes meet before he continues. “Is this seat taken?”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head.
He sets his bag on the floor and sits down beside me. I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting impatiently for him to make the next move. Are we back to being friends and enemies, or did what happened the other night mean as much to him as it did me?
It meant everything to me. Drake’s the one guy who’s been able to break my rules and get away with it.
My eyes stay focused on the front of the room. The uncertainty I feel inside is making this extremely awkward.
His elbow rests on the chair arm between us as he leans in. Knowing what his body can do to mine causes my heart to pound. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday. Things were kind of hectic.”
“How’s your shoulder?” I ask, avoiding his eyes.
“It’s better. I had a friend who gave me some tips.” It’s that word. The one I was hoping we’d moved past.
“And you followed them?” I still can’t look.
“The best I could.”
I fidget with the corners of my notebook paper until they’re frayed. Out of all days, why is the professor running late today?
A large hand settles on my knee, squeezing it gently. “Can we talk after class?”
I swallow, feeling desire pool in my stomach from that one simple touch. “I have some time before biology.”
“Good,” he says, squeezing my knee once more before letting go.
I don’t know what it is about him, but I’m suddenly having trouble catching my breath. Professor McGill chooses this exact minute to walk in, reining us in with a few loud comments.
This is going to be the longest hour of my life.
I can’t repeat one sentence the professor said, but to my relief, class is finally over, and hopefully I can get some answers from Drake.
“Ready?” he asks, picking up his bag off the floor.
“Yeah.”
I follow him, hoping we’ll discuss what happened the other night and where that leaves us. I don’t ask where we’re going. It doesn’t matter. I’d go anywhere with him.
As soon as we step outside, he turns to me. “Your place or mine?”
“What?” I ask, taken aback.
He glances from side to side before cupping the back of my neck in his hand and drawing my lips to his. “I
said, your place or mine?”
This isn’t what I had in mind, but is it what I want?
“Kate’s probably home. She doesn’t have class until later.”
He kisses me again, then grabs my hand and pulls me down the long sidewalk. After a few minutes, I realize we’re heading to his dorm, not mine. Nervous butterflies pool in my stomach. Is this what our relationship is going to be about? Sex. Not talking for days. A few stolen touches here and there that no one else can see.
This isn’t what I had in mind. Honestly, I never thought I’d have Drake on my mind, but I don’t think there’s any way to get him out of it right now.
He opens the door to his building, using his hand to guide me in. Neither of us speaks. I have no idea what we’re doing, and he’s already proven to be a man of very few words.
The silence continues up the stairs, down the hallway, and as he unlocks his door. After he opens it, he allows me to step inside first, following closely behind.
Two seconds later, my back is pressed against the wall and his hot lips are on my neck. It doesn’t take long before my body gets the idea and joins in, my fingers tugging at his hair, my hips grinding into his. I didn’t know I needed him like this, but I do.
His hands slide over my covered breasts and brush against my stomach until they find the bottom of my denim button-down. “Are you attached to this shirt?” he asks, his warm breath tickling my neck.
Confused, I shake my head. He immediately pulls both sides of my shirt, and buttons fly across the room. “Drake,” I moan, turned on by how aggressive he is.
“You’re so sexy, Em. So fucking sexy.” His hands touch my shoulders, sliding my sleeves down to my wrists. With one more tug, it’s on the floor.
I push his t-shirt up his stomach as his fingers work to unfasten my jeans. His skin is so warm, so smooth. His hard work on the field shows.
After my jeans and panties join my ripped shirt on the floor, I pull his t-shirt over his head. He undoes his jeans just enough to free himself and grips my hips, quickly sinking into me. There’s nothing between us now.
“Fuck, Em, I’ve been thinking about this all morning.” He pounds into me over and over. I won’t deny that it feels good, but I also wonder if this is what I mean to him, if I’m becoming some sort of physical release for his hurt and frustration.
My fingers tangle in his hair again as his lips explore my neck. At some point, I’m going to have to address this, but right now, it feels too good. “God, Drake,” I moan, as he rubs against that spot again. He’s driving my body insane with every thrust.
“What are you doing to me?” he asks, as his forehead comes to rest on mine. “I can’t get enough. All I want is you, Em.”
“I don’t want you to leave me again.” The words escape me before I have any time to think them over. What I’m saying. What it means.
He freezes, brushing a few strands of hair from my sweat-soaked skin. “Who said I was leaving?”
“You always do. Even Saturday, after everything, you left.”
He winces, still buried deep inside me. “Please don’t think like that. It’s not like that.”
I nod, wrapping my arms around his neck. Pressing my forehead back to his, I whisper, “Stop running. I need you. I haven’t figured out why yet, but I do.”
His eyes close before finding mine again. “Em—”
“Stop. Don’t think. Just be with me. Please,” I beg, kissing him softly.
His eyes bore into mine for several seconds before he starts thrusting into me again. If I made any headway is yet to be seen, but for right now, I’m stuck in this moment with the most unexpectedly amazing man I’ve ever met.
My body winds quickly, squeezing him over and over again, and before he finds his own release, he makes me come again, even harder this time. We do it together.
As we both try to regain control of ourselves, we stay in place. I feel him going soft inside of me, but I’m not ready for him to pull away.
He’s nitrate, and I’m acid. We’re testing the limits, waiting for the explosion, but neither of us can stop.
He lowers me back to the ground, using his fingertips to brush the hair from my sweat-drenched face. “How was that?”
“I can’t find the words,” I reply, kissing his sculpted chest.
“Hmm, is Emery White speechless?”
I shrug, kissing him again.
“That’s a first.” His arms envelop me, bringing me to a place I never want to leave. It also makes me realize that we have some talking to do before we continue this. The longer I let myself fall into Drake’s arms, the harder it will be to break free again.
I need to know that what we have goes beyond these physical explosions. I never held onto my body like it was a prize to give the guy who showed me he loved me first, but this isn’t okay either. Not anymore.
“I think we should talk now.”
Kissing my temple, he says, “What is there to talk about? I think we just said pretty much everything there was to say.”
I wiggle out of his grasp, picking my clothes up off the floor.
“What are you doing?” he asks, standing in the middle of the room completely naked.
“I’m putting my clothes back on.”
“Okay,” he says, resting his hands on his hips. “Why are you in such a hurry?”
“We have class.”
He shrugs. “Skip it.”
“I am not skipping.” I pull my jeans back up, before eyeing my torn shirt. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow? Since you ruined mine.”
A wicked grin appears on his face. “You look better without it anyway.”
“Drake.”
“Em.”
“Please,” I beg, crossing my arms over my bare chest. The room feels a little too cool all of a sudden. I’m not sure if the overexposed feeling comes from that, or the fact that I’m scared that he’s going to walk out of here and not talk to me for days again. I can’t keep doing this, not like this.
He smiles, his eyes surveying the length of my body before he walks to his dresser and tosses me a long-sleeve gray t-shirt. “Here, this one is small on me.”
All I can do is stare as he sweeps his clothes up off the floor and pulls them on, wondering what the hell I’m doing here. He didn’t even have to ask, and I was naked in his arms, letting him pound me into the wall. This isn’t me. This isn’t what I’m about. This isn’t what I want our relationship, or any relationship I’m in, to be about.
“You know what, why don’t you call me when you want to go on a real date. One that doesn’t end with the two of us naked.” I leave, slamming the door shut behind me. Maybe I’m overreacting, but the girl I left back in that room wasn’t me … I don’t know who I am anymore.
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT the fuck just happened. One step forward, two steps back, and I’m tired of this dance with Emery.
I have enough going on in my life without adding another drop to my rollercoaster, but something about her won’t let me just get off the ride.
I feel something for her. Something new. Something I blocked myself from feeling for so long. I like her, care about her even, or I wouldn’t have told her everything I did about my dad. That’s something I’ve guarded and held in close. The fact that I told her says a lot. Right now, I know one thing’s for certain—we need to end this stupid game we play, or go our separate ways. This is starting to hurt too fucking much.
I pick up the phone and call the one person who might have something to help me figure her out.
“Hello,” he says, his voice scratchy like he hasn’t been up for very long.
“Hey, Beau, how you been?”
“Good, good. You?”
My foot bounces on the ground as I sit on the edge of my bed, trying to do something I’ve never done before … ask for help. “I’ve been better. Do you want to grab a beer or something? I need to talk to you.”
“You’re scaring me,” he says, concern evident in his voice.
“I just need some help with a little situation, that’s all.”
“I have class in ten, but I’m free after that. Why don’t you come over? My fridge is still full from the last party I had.”
“Thanks. I’ll be there.”
Angry knuckles pound on the hollow wood door. I don’t have to open it to know that it’s Dad, and that he’s not very happy with me. Anyone who’s ever been on my dad’s bad side can tell you he’s not afraid to show his emotions, good or bad.
“Drake, come out. Now!” Yeah, I’m in a whole lot of trouble.
“Coming,” I reply, taking one last look at my hair in the mirror. I’ve been trying this new thing where I spike it up in the front. It’s not quite right yet, but it’s getting closer to where I want it to be every morning.
“Drake, if I have to tell you one more time, you’re going to be running laps around the block all night in the rain!”
I put one hand on the knob and turn the light off with the other. Here goes nothing.
He stands right outside the door with his hands on his hips, face bright red. Maybe I should have come out the first time he asked.
“What are you doing? Your sisters still need to brush their teeth, and you’ve been sitting in there for almost half an hour with the door locked.”
I shrug, burying my hands deep in my pockets. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”
“Go eat your breakfast.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He’s always hard on me, but I rarely hear him yelling at my sisters. It’s unfair. Sometimes I just want to throw my favorite shirts and video games in a bag and run away. Anywhere has to be better than this.
“Is that what you’re wearing today, Drake?” my mom asks as I step into the kitchen. I look down at my old red t-shirt and jeans with holes in the knees; it’s actually one of my favorites.
“It’s all that’s clean,” I lie, pouring some milk into my cereal bowl.
My sisters sit across from me, venom in their eyes. “You got in trouble,” Quinn says, sticking out her tongue at me.
