by Claire Adams
"That's the one," I said, almost proud that she remembered so well.
"Are you set on having Mexican tonight?"
"Not really. Why? You want to go somewhere else?"
She did. It was this place a lot of the guys I used to play with used to come – buffet, cheap food, as much as you wanted, a great deal for packs of hungry football players, especially when we were bulking. I had taken her before, a few times because after the first time she hadn't been mad about sharing a dining room with the kind of people who you usually found at an all you can eat buffet. Part of the territory when you're a broke college student, but we weren't slumming all the time.
As soon as we walked in, she seemed overdressed. It was a huge, badly-lit dining area with the food lining one wall. Periodically, a person in a dirty apron would come through a pair of swinging doors and refresh the food that was running out. It made me think of the cafeteria on campus, but with more screaming children and more overweight people who had to use those buggies in the supermarket.
Ron was a creature of habit. On her plate when we finally sat down were potato skins and the awful, thick, soggy crust pizza they served that she loved for some reason. Her usual. It felt good that I knew that about her, especially for those times that she felt distant and I felt like I was fighting a losing battle.
"I can't believe you still eat that shit," I quipped.
"I like my pizza with girth," she said, taking a bite out of a slice. It was bread at that point. Bread with cheese and pepperoni on it. This was part of the reason why we never got pizza together, she hated thin crust and pineapple, while I couldn't stand the thick crust. She took another bite happily.
"I can't afford to eat like this every day, let me enjoy it while I can," she said.
"If it makes you this happy, why not?"
"Long as I'm happy weighing fifty more pounds than I do now. You boys have it so good."
"Just come to the gym with me," I suggested.
"Not a chance in hell. Not again," she laughed. She worked out, she was small, but she liked to take care of herself. She did it mainly from home; those easy at-home videos you can get online. Or at least that was what she had preferred doing before. Once I had managed to convince her to come to the gym with me... Let's just say that was the last time she ever did.
"You still do those little work out videos?"
"Are you saying I need to? Are you calling me fat?" she teased.
"You're trying to get me in trouble. You know I didn't say that."
"Choose your next words wisely," she said, peeling a pepperoni slice off the pizza and eating it on its own.
"I think you look great. Just ease up on the bread. It makes you bloat." She looked shocked for a second before she noticed my smirk.
"Just for that I'm getting another slice," she said.
"Just one. I still want to be able to carry you."
"If that gets hard for you, I think you should be the one who has to do something about it," she said, smiling at me. I laughed.
"They didn't feed us enough in Afghanistan to keep my weight up."
"You can still play though, can't you?" she asked. I said that I could, and then we got into MREs. She had heard about what they were but it was a different story actually eating them and hearing about what they might be like from a person who might or might not know.
At first, I was a little cautious talking about my deployment, but she was interested in finding out. It had been the thing that had sort of spurred the breakup. I had actually done it, but if I had never had to go, who knew where our relationship would be by now. I wanted to be able to talk about it with her. In some fucked up way, it was part of our history, even though we were apart the entire time. She never ended up getting that second slice.
It was around ten-thirty when I parked in front of her building and stopped the car.
"I had fun tonight," she said. She was looking at me. Her seatbelt was off and her body was turned in the seat, knees up against the center console.
"I did, too."
"Thank you," she said flirtatiously. It was pretty warm outside, but that had nothing to do with the warmth spreading through my chest. The whole car felt like it was heating up. I touched her knee, brushing my thumb against her unblemished skin.
"Anytime," I said. She held my hand in both of hers, turning it palm up. I watched her for a few seconds, letting my hand warm between the two of hers. The movement made the skirt of her dress fall down her thigh a little. She looked up and our eyes met. We hadn't had anything to drink that night, but her cheeks were flushed and her lips parted.
"Come here," I said to her. She let go of my hand and held the back of my seat, climbing into my lap. Our lips met, hard, and I pushed my tongue into her mouth. There wasn't much foot traffic this time of night, but anyone who was curious could look through the window and probably call the cops on us for indecent exposure.
She moaned softly as our tongues collided. I ran my hands up her thighs, squeezing her ass cheeks in my palms. I wasn't going to try to fuck her in the car – we were both way too old for that – but the night had been on a steady upswing since we had gotten to the buffet. You knew a date was good when you got to a girl’s house to drop her off and she didn't want to leave. We stopped before we started fogging up the windows.
"Let me walk you up," I said, opening the door and letting her climb out first. I followed, taking her hand. Our fingers laced together like they knew that that was what they were supposed to do. I always used to hold her right hand so she was on my left; that meant I wouldn't have to let go if I needed to use it. She let go, though, because she needed hers to unlock her apartment. I walked in after her. I could pretend that I didn't want to finish what we started in the car, but I wasn't going to lie.
"Are you in a hurry?" she asked, slipping her purse off her shoulder.
"Nope. Not at all. Why?" I asked.
"I don't really want you to leave," she said after a pause. I walked over to her.
"I'll stay as long as you want me to."
"Would you leave if I asked you to do that?" There was about two feet between us.
"If you asked me to, yeah," I said, wondering where this was going. "Do you want me to go?"
"No, but you have to, don't you?"
"What? I don't have to be anywhere tonight, Ron."
"Not right now, I mean later. After you go to the combine and someone gives you a contract, and you have to relocate to play on their team," she said.
"Ron, the combine only lasts a week. Nothing after that is set in stone. I can't say any of that is going to happen. Chances are that it won't."
"Yes it will, Roman, you're a fantastic player," she said, a little annoyed like it hurt her to say it.
"Even if something did, what's wrong with that?"
"You would leave. You wouldn't be able to turn down the offer."
"I wouldn't just leave. I'd talk to you about it first. We’d figure something out."
"Just like last time?" she snapped.
"Last time was a mistake. I know I didn't do the right thing. I paid for that for a whole year, and I'm still paying for it now."
"The end result would still be the same, whether we talked or not. You'd still leave me, and I don't want that. Not again." She turned her back to me.
"Ron. Ron, please, look at me," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Am I wrong?" she asked, refusing to turn around.
"I used to think that leaving had to mean the end of a relationship, too. I was wrong, Ron. Even if I did end up having to leave, we could work something out." Her head fell forward and her shoulders shook. Shit. I circled her body to face her again. She was wiping tears from her eyes.
"Where was this a year ago?" she said sadly.
I felt like shit. She had cried that time, too, but that had been because I had told her it was over and I didn't love her anymore.
"I know I fucked up. I should have come to you instead of making that decision for us."
"I felt so stupid. Like I thought we were doing so well, but then you did that and then suddenly you were gone." I was holding her before I could stop myself. She was stiff and small in my arms. She didn't fight me, though. She let me comfort her through her tears.
"I wasn't thinking. You were there for me and instead of talking to you, I took matters into my own hands and fucked everything up."
"You really hurt me, Roman," she said. Her tears were soaking into my shirt, and her voice was muffled against my chest. I squeezed her tight, kissing the top of her head.
"And, I hate myself for it, Ron. I hate what I did to you and what it did to us."
"I can't go through that twice," she said quietly. She pushed away from my chest, eyes trained on the ground. "If this is going to happen, I have to step away, Roman. If we say our goodbyes now, we-"
"No," I said, cupping her face so she looked up at me.
"Roman-"
"Veronica, please," I said. She looked down, shaking her head. "I fucked up and I made a bad decision, which lost me the woman I love. I'm not going to make that mistake twice." More tears flowed down her cheeks.
"I really want that to be true," she whispered.
"It is, baby." I kissed her softly. I just wanted to comfort her, stop her crying because I hated making her upset. It was all my fault, so it was my job to fix it. She pressed her full lips into mine again, wrapping her arms around my neck. I hugged her close. One of her hands ran down my chest, all the way down my abs to the waist of my pants.
"Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked.
"Of course. Whatever you want." Her other hand ran over my shoulder. Our eyes locked again.
"I want you," she said simply. Her hands were at the waist of my pants, pulling the belt free. She unsnapped the button, and her hand was closing around my cock through my underwear.
"Fuck," I groaned. She dropped to the ground, tugging my pants and underwear on her way down. She gripped my semi and jerked the tip, slowly. Those clear green eyes stared up at me. It had been a fucking year since I’d had my dick sucked. I hoped I could last long enough to enjoy this.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Veronica
Roman's head fell back. A long string of expletives streamed from his clenched teeth, making me giggle. He loved having his balls sucked, more than other guys I'd been with. I kept my hand on his cock, jerking the head while I took his balls into my mouth in turn, gently. They were sensitive, after all.
I rolled them in my cupped hand and turned my attention to his cock again. After our conversation, I sort of liked being in charge, owning his pleasure and having him at my mercy. It made me feel like he was mine. Owning a person's body mattered less to me than emotional connection, but I’d had all of him once and I wanted it back.
I ran my tongue over the tip before sucking the head into my mouth. Little by little, I took him into my mouth. I swallowed around his length, doing my best to take as much of him as I could without gagging. Either he was bigger than the last time I had done this or I had gotten rusty.
I took the hand fisting in my hair as encouragement. I bobbed up and down, feeding him into my throat on every down stroke. My hand jerked the root, which I couldn't get my lips around.
"Godammit, Ronnie," I heard him whisper. He was groaning, deep, sexy sounds from his throat, cussing under his breath and gently tugging at my hair.
"Slow down," he said, breathlessly. "You don't stop, I'm gonna come." I gave him a few, last good sucks, hollowing my cheeks out on my way back up, then let him pop free of my mouth. I looked up at him, and he offered me a hand to help me back up. Before I knew it, he had scooped me up in his arms. My back pressed into the wall and then he kissed me. He was clawing at my panties to get them off. I slid them down, afraid he'd rip them.
He hoisted me up against the wall once my panties were out of the way. He ground his rod against my clit, holding my legs open. I bit back my cry, self-conscious that my neighbors would hear us. I reached between us, guiding him to my lips so he slid smoothly inside. He was big, but it never hurt when he was inside me. I felt full like he fit me perfectly. I gushed when he fucked me. The pleasure at my core flowed through my whole body.
Every one of his deep thrusts hit me like a bullet. Something about the angle made me gasp every time our hips met. I bit my lip, leaning back against the wall.
"Harder," I whispered. His next thrust made me yelp, arching my back against the wall because he hit my clit. Again. Again. I felt myself quiver. I wanted the wave to crest higher, but my orgasm burst inside of me, and I would have ended up on the floor if Roman wasn't holding me up. He pushed into me, chest to chest, then fucked me with quick, short, frantic strokes. He grunted, tightening his hold on my thighs before a groan ripped from his chest. He pumped in and out of me through his orgasm, and I felt him fill me up. Our pants soon silenced, and the room became still again.
He held me to the wall with his hips, kissing me. He was still inside me, but softening now. I was barely aware of anything else but his strong arms, taking my weight again when we were in my room suddenly. My back gently hit the bed as his body took the space on top of me. I knew he wouldn't be able to go again so soon after coming, but what was happening now? His lips kissing me slowly and deeply felt incredible. The comfort of feeling him close to me after what we just did heated me through.
Lying there, I believed him. It was all true. He loved me and he was sorry and he wanted us to start again. Things would be different this time, but it didn't matter because we had both grown from the situation and we'd know how to handle ourselves. It sounded tempting. Almost too good to be true.
I couldn't hold this over him forever, but wasn't it worse if I just trusted him blindly again? It had been a great few weeks reconnecting, but a great few weeks wasn't enough to make me forget the months I had spent trying to get over him after he dumped me. He reassured me whenever we were together that I had nothing to worry about, but trust isn't built in a day. The trust I used to have in him had been built over years of love and friendship. It was coming back, slowly, the comfort that used to be there.
If what I needed was time, then I hadn't had enough.
We ended up in the shower together, you know, to save water. We did it again, him behind me as I braced myself against the tiled wall. I was tired by the time we were in my bed together. He slept behind me, one arm thrown over my side and our bodies molded together, naked. He was asleep before I was and after two orgasms, I should have been more tired. My racing thoughts wouldn't let me rest, though.
Stop it, I thought. Stop looking for reasons to keep doubting him. This, him, the two of you finally back together is what you want. Stop looking for a way to self-sabotage.
Was it self-sabotage if the goal was actually to take care of myself? Being on the defensive was an unhealthy way to get into a relationship, but could you blame me? Even if I wasn't and I was just looking at the facts, pretended I had no involvement in this at all and was just a third party bystander, what would it look like to me?
Guy and girl get back together after a year apart. The guy is on the fast track to becoming a pro football player and the girl's just trying to maintain her GPA through summer semester. He's wanted to go pro all his life. Money, fame, and a career he's always wanted can all be his except for one little problem: the girl.
Faced with the decision, what does he choose?
What would I choose if I were him?
He kept saying this stuff about working it out, talking and figuring something out that didn't have to mean that we had to break up again. Even if that happened though, what was that? Long distance? How long did those last? How long would we if we were trying it? How long before he got caught up in his new world of professional sports and eventually getting caught up in some other girl's shorts?
What about me? I still had to graduate, and I wanted to travel. I wanted to start working and develop a lifestyle that I enjoyed. Would there be room for him anymore
? Maybe I would meet someone and maybe the fact that the guy was with me physically and not miles away would be enough to make me choose him instead of Roman.
I wasn't making myself feel better, but why start crying about it now? This was us and if we kept being us, then it was what we'd have to face, later if not now. No, definitely not now. Right now was bedtime. A quiet night close to each other, intimate and peaceful. I tried again to slow my thoughts down because they would just ruin this for me.
I wriggled against Roman's hold so I could turn and look at him. I noticed how long his lashes looked when his eyes were closed and how young and handsome he was, too. I touched his bristly cheek, gently, but not gently enough not to wake him. He sighed deeply and his eyes opened, focusing on me.
"Hey," he said.
"Hi."
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"Yeah. I just couldn't sleep." I leaned down and kissed his forehead, then his lips.
"What's wrong?" he asked me, leaning up on one elbow.
"Nothing," I reassured him, touching his chest. "I'm glad you're here with me."
"I am, too," he said. He pushed a tuft of my hair back behind my ear and kissed me. I deepened the kiss, pushing my tongue into his mouth and rolling over top of him. I reached between us for his dick.
"Round three, babe?" he asked, flirtatiously. He held me around the waist and flipped us over so I was on my back. I wanted him. I didn't want to think about a dark future that hadn't come yet. I just wanted to be there with him, for everything else to fade out and feel like I had him, right now, fuck the past and the future.
I gasped as he pushed into me. I closed my eyes and felt him – his heat, hardness, weight on top of me, tongue and lips on my skin. Even if he was leaving again, he was mine right now and nobody could take that away from me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Roman
Ron had signed herself up for morning classes for the summer. I was flying out to Houston for the combine, through Sioux Falls. My flight there from here was at eight thirty, and I didn't want the texts we had sent over the weekend to be the last things I said to her before leaving.