Uncomfortable (Undone Book 1)

by Vanessa Page

  I lie down before answering. “You can try to squeeze yourself into the other bed with Scott, but I doubt you’ll have any luck.” He’s taking up the whole thing with his massive body. She’d be lucky to claim a corner of the mattress. “Or, you can sleep here.” I point to the other half, the empty half of my bed. “Or there’s always the floor. I don’t really care where you sleep.” It’s not entirely true. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t have offered her part of my space. I don’t mind sleeping next to someone else; I’m just not too keen on the idea of sleeping next to her. But she looked so pathetic in that tiny chair on the landing, I couldn’t not make the offer.

  She seems to deliberate for a moment before climbing onto the bed from the foot and burrowing herself under the covers between me and the wall.

  Several minutes pass in silence. Enough that I start to wonder if she has already fallen asleep. Then I hear a soft “Thank you.”

  “Sure,” I answer, then turn onto my side facing away from her.

  Sometime later, I wake up to the feel of something tickling the sensitive skin just below my belly button. A hand. Krystal’s hand. My dick is already rock hard in response and stretching up to meet those delicate fingers. The only thing holding my erection back from slapping my stomach—and Krystal’s hand—is my sweatpants, which are stretched tight. I’m on my back, and Krystal is curled into my side. I have no idea how we got into this position. And judging from her soft, even breathing and closed eyes, Krystal is sound asleep, completely unaware of how close she is to giving me a handy.

  I mentally run through the options for extricating myself from this situation with as little awkwardness and embarrassment as possible. I sure as hell don’t want her to wake up, see my erection, and think it has anything to do with her. Never mind that her hand rubbing my stomach while I was sleeping is probably what caused it in the first place. It has nothing to do with her. It could have been anyone’s hand, and my dick would have responded the same way.

  Doing my best not to wake her, I slip my hand under my waistband and adjust myself so my erection lies flat, angled up but safely away from Krystal’s fingers. Now that I’ve at least hidden the evidence of my errant arousal, I can be a little bolder in my movements, because if she wakes up, maybe she won’t notice anything amiss in the area of my pants. I reach over and wrap my fingers around her wrist, lift. I’m about six inches from setting her hand on her own hip when she stirs, pulls her arm out of my grip and reaches it out over my torso. She gives a quiet sniffle and stretches her body straight, pressing the length of her down my side. Then she drops her arm back over me, and now her leg is looped over mine. My dick twitches, and I stifle a groan. I’m more stuck now than before.

  I consider waking her up, asking her to move over, but that would be a dick move. She’s sleeping peacefully after having been ousted from her own bed, and I’m considering waking her up and what… asking her to put pillows between us so I can quell this raging hard-on and get some rest? Nope. I’m just going to have to suffer through it. This is going to be a long night.

  ~

  The sky is overcast and dreary, hinting at snow later, but the clouds have yet to let loose. I’ve been on the front porch for close to an hour, mostly avoiding Krystal and her friends, when Jameson comes out and sits in the empty rocking chair next to mine.

  “Man, I feel like my grandfather when I sit in this thing. Just give me a sweater with elbow patches and an unlit pipe, and my transition will be complete.”

  I laugh. “Unlit because you don’t smoke?”

  Jameson shakes his head. “Nah, unlit because my gran won’t let grandad smoke. She lets him hold the pipe, though. He just can’t have tobacco in it.”

  “Smart woman.”

  Jameson nods his agreement. “Yeah, but every time they fight about it, he threatens to start vaping. Can you imagine? Grandad’s in his 80s. He probably wouldn’t know how to vape. I’m not even sure how he knows what vaping is.”

  “He should just stick with the unlit pipe. Looks cooler.”

  “Right?” Jameson chuckles and looks out at the empty lot across the street. “Hey, we should get the crew over there and play a game of touch football.”

  I haven’t had any real physical activity since we got here, aside from my morning run, and I could certainly use the outlet. For more reasons than just exercise. Maybe if I wear myself out, I won’t have the energy to be aroused by Krystal sleeping in my bed tonight. “I’m game. Did you bring a ball?”

  “Did I bring a ball?” Jameson looks offended by the suggestion. And rightfully so, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without a football nearby. The man lives and breathes the game. He eats, sleeps, and shits football.

  “Sorry. Dumb question.”

  “Damn right.” He stands from his chair and slaps on me on the back. “I’m gonna grab my ball. You start rounding up players.”

  “Heard,” I acknowledge and get to my feet, then follow my friend inside.

  When he heads up the stairs, I head for the living room and find RJ sprawled in the armchair, Abby and Andy at opposite ends of the couch, and of course, Krystal there between them, always the center of attention. Even the center of my attention no matter how much I don’t want her to be. “Anyone up for some football?”

  “Tag or tackle?” Andy waggles his eyebrows at me suggestively.

  “For you, sexy, definitely tackle.” He knows I’m kidding. It’s no secret that I don’t swing toward the dick side, but that doesn’t stop us from joking around.

  “Mmm. Count me in.” Andy says and reaches for his sneakers tucked under the couch.

  “Me, too. Gotta change first, though,” Abby announces and darts from the room.

  “I’ll play,” RJ agrees from his place in the chair, but he doesn’t move to get up.

  Krystal shakes her head slowly. “No thanks. You guys are twice my size. There’s no way I could outrun any of you.”

  “But you would look so adorable trying.” Andy reaches over and musses her hair affectionately. Instead of shaking him off, though, she leans into the touch, moving her head under his hand like a puppy desperate for pets. Her reaction has me wondering if she’s that responsive to all touch, then how responsive would she be to me if I were to run my hands over her.

  My dick twitches, and I avert my gaze and my attention. I need to switch gears before I’m sporting full wood. As I so embarrassingly discovered yesterday, an erection is impossible to disguise in sweatpants. No hard denim to hide the big guy behind. And I don’t need a repeat of the twister game.

  “I’ll watch, though,” She says sweetly and uncurls her feet from underneath her.

  The socks she’s wearing are so big on her feet, she looks like a child playing dress up. Wait… “Are those my socks?” I ask.

  To her credit, Krystal has enough sense to look suitably ashamed for stealing my socks, but her voice is singsongy and teasing when she answers, “Maaaybe.”

  “You’re just helping yourself to my clothes now?” As much as I want to be annoyed, I’m not, and I can’t even make myself sound annoyed. Even to my own ears, I sound almost… amused. And now Andy and RJ and Krystal are all looking at me curiously. Fuck. The last think I want is for people, especially Krystal, to start thinking I’m into her. I’m not into her.

  “My feet were cold last night, and I didn’t want to go back to my room.” She looks up at me with innocent doe eyes, and suddenly, I want to offer free access to everything I own. But I manage to hold my tongue.

  “Wait,” Andy holds up an accusatory finger at her. “You were in his,” he stabs that same finger in my direction, “room last night?” His eyes hold a suspicious glint, and I know exactly where this is going. I need to head this off before it gets out of hand.

  I hold up my hands defensively. “It’s not what you think, brother. Someone,” I look pointedly at RJ, “was hooking up in her room, and I found her curled up in a pathetic ball in that tiny chair upstairs. I couldn’t let her stay like
that.”

  RJ isn’t fazed by me passing the attention to him. “Guilty.” He smiles widely. “And I’ve got plans for a repeat performance tonight, so I hope you’re cool with bunking with Jace again, Krystal.”

  Krystal snorts. “Please, I wouldn’t sleep in my room if you paid me. The sheets are probably covered in cum and who knows what else.” She fakes a shudder.

  “That’s how you know I’m doing it right, baby.”

  She sticks her tongue out at him, uncurls herself from Andy’s side, and rises from the couch fluidly. She moves like a dancer, and I’m wondering how I’ve never noticed that before.

  Jameson strolls into the room with Miranda at his side and Scott following close behind. “We doing this or what?” He sends his football spiraling up into the air and catches it in a well-practiced move I must have seen him do a thousand times since I met him.

  “Let’s do it!” RJ calls, finally bouncing out of his chair. He makes to fake tackle Jameson. He takes the ball out of the other man’s hands, dips, pivots and weaves past him—and straight into Scott.

  “This is why no one wants you on their team. Once you get the ball, you don’t know what to do with it.”

  “Shoot. I’m the best player in this house.” RJ blusters, but we all know he’s kidding, since Jameson is the one here on a football scholarship.

  “Sure you are, buddy.” Scott pats RJ on the back.

  “Come on, you two. Quit messing around. Let’s play some ball.” Abby jogs down the stairs and bypasses the group to get to the front door.

  RJ follows behind her and smacks her on the butt. “You heard the woman. Let’s go play with our balls.”

  “Not what I said,” She calls over her shoulder as she heads out onto the front porch.

  Somehow, Krystal manages to squeeze my giant socks into her super tiny sneakers, but not without having to pull them up almost to her knees over her black leggings. Between her oversized university sweatshirt and the socks to her knees, she looks both ridiculous and adorable, and I catch myself smiling like a goober while I watch her tie her shoes. I force a more serious expression and follow my friends outside and across the street without waiting for Krystal.

  By the time she makes it over to the empty lot, we’re all grouped near the center of our ersatz field, ready to start picking teams. She sits on the grass along the back property line, near the small retention stream that borders the backs of the properties on that side of the road. Jameson and RJ volunteer as captains and Scott hands Miranda a coin to toss to see who will have first pick.

  “Heads!” RJ calls out and pumps his fist a minute later when Miranda reveals the coin. “Getting head is always better than chasing tail.”

  “You’re disgusting,” Miranda tells him.

  He flashes her a bright smile like she’s just given him the best compliment. Then calls out, “I’ll take Abs.” Abby flounces over to him and stands at his side, tying her hair up into a ponytail.

  Jameson crooks a finger at Miranda, and she moves closer to him.

  That’s one of the great things about being single. I don’t have to pick my girlfriend first in a game of tag football. If I were captain, I could have picked to win, instead of picking to get laid.

  But… there was something to be said for getting laid on the regular, too, something I hadn’t done in so long, I might as well still be a damn virgin. So, I couldn’t exactly begrudge my friends their choices in players.

  “Scott,” RJ calls.

  “Last picked. I’m having flashbacks to middle school P.E.,” I joke.

  “The good news is you have a lot more muscles and a lot fewer pimples now,” Scott consoles.

  “Thank goodness!”

  Miranda pulls her scarf out of her hair and runs it over to Krystal. “You’re the ref, Krys. And don’t forget which team loves you more.”

  Was it my imagination, or did Krystal shoot a look at me when Miranda said that?

  I push the thought away and take my position facing off against Scott, while Jameson stations himself behind Miranda who’s bent over, ball in hand.

  “Mmm, I kind of don’t even want to play anymore,” he groans next to me.

  “Get a room!” Krystal calls.

  Jameson sets a hand on Miranda’s hip. “Trust me, I would love to.”

  Miranda swats his hand away and holds the ball low underneath her as she bends farther.

  Once the game begins, I immediately feel invigorated, energized. Something about competitive play and the outside air makes me feel alive. I pour every bit of my pent-up energy, sexual and otherwise, into the game, using every muscle, every part of me. I throw my whole being into the play, and it pays off. Before long, we’re in the lead, and so far into RJ’s team’s side of the “field” we’ll be scoring again any minute.

  Except, when Jameson passes Miranda the ball, RJ runs the same move he pulled on Jameson earlier, charging straight at her. She tries to avoid him, but he grabs the ball out of her hands with nimble fingers and skirts around her before she can even blink. His signature move. He’s probably been perfecting it since grade school. She never stood a chance.

  I run for RJ, and he swings wide to avoid me on his way back up the field. Too wide. He’s headed straight for Krystal. She sees him coming and jumps to her feet, trying to get out of his way. He sees her and tries to stop, but the attempt comes too late. He plows into her, full force.

  He’s so much bigger than her, the impact doesn’t just knock her down. RJ’s body buffets her backward several feet. Krystal waves her arms frantically, and her feet scrabble for purchase on the grass, but no luck. I watch, frozen in place, as she stumbles backward and right over the side of the embankment into the retention stream.

  It seems like slow motion, like the whole thing happens over the course of several hours, but in reality, no more than a few seconds pass between RJ ramming into her and Krystal landing in the water. The splash of her body breaking the surface spurs me into action. I run in long strides to the water’s edge. My plan is to reach down to pull her out, but the stream is deeper than it looked, and she’s further down than I expect.

  She’s doing her best to tread water, but she’s already soaked to the bone, and her giant sweatshirt is dragging her down. The temperature out here is maybe 40 degrees, and who knows how cold the water actually is. Krystal’s lips are already turning blue. I don’t take the time to think about what I’m doing or what might be in the murky brown water. I rip my sweatshirt over my head, kick off my shoes, and jump in.

  The cold hits me like an arctic blast. I’m pretty sure my testicles are instantly so far inside my body they may take weeks to reappear. As soon surface after landing in the water, Krystal grabs on to me, clinging to me like a life preserver. While the water is too deep for her, it’s shallow enough for me to stand on my tiptoes and still keep my head above water, but Krystal’s hoodie creates too much drag, making it impossible to maneuver through the water back to the side wall.

  I grab her sleeves. “Pull your arms in.”

  She does as instructed, and somehow, I manage to get the sweatshirt over her head without drowning her. After that, I’m able to get us to the side easily. RJ is waiting there, laid out flat on his stomach with his arms reaching down for her, while everyone else stands close behind, ready to help pull her up. Several voices are talking at once: RJ apologizing, our friends asking if Krystal’s okay, Scott giving directions on the best way to get her, and me, out of the water.

  I tune them all out and lift Krystal as far out of the water as I can. She reaches shaking arms up toward RJ, and he grabs her wrists, pulls her high enough for Scott to take over and pull her up to stand in the grass. Then RJ leans back down for me. I stretch toward him, and he grabs me the same way he grabbed Krystal. Only I’m about a hundred pounds heavier, and he has to work harder to get me high enough for Scott and Jameson to each grab one of my arms.

  “Oh my goodness. Are you guys okay?” Miranda looks Krystal over for any s
ign of injury while Abby worriedly inhabits the space just behind her.

  “F-fine. Just a b-bit c-c-cold.” Krystal wraps her arms around herself. I close the distance between us, and scoop her into my arms.

  “We need to get you warmed up,” I tell her. She looks up at me with those big gray eyes like I’m her very own superhero, and a swell of something possessive forms in my chest, makes my heart beat a little faster than it already was.

  “I’m fine, r-really,” she tells Miranda when she and Abby start to follow us across the empty lot. “You don’t n-need to c-come with.”

  She’s shaking like a leaf in my arms, but my body heat must be doing something to warm her, because, by the time we cross the street, her muscles are considerably less tense than when I picked her up, and her teeth are no longer chattering audibly.

  “Are you sure?” Abby calls.

  “Posit-t-tive!” She answers over my shoulder, and our friends stop following us to watch us go.

  Instead of going through the front door, and trekking all the way through the house, I round the outside of the house to the backyard and set Krystal on her feet outside the door to the downstairs bathroom that can be accessed from the pool area. I reach for the handle, praying it’s unlocked. The door opens. I usher Krystal inside, then follow her into the warmth.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Krystal

  Jace brings me in through the pool bath, probably to avoid mucking up the pristine house. Even still, I’m conscious of every drip from my clothing, every muddy splatter landing on the tile floor. The air inside the house is warmer than outside, but not warm enough.

  “W-we need to get this m-mud off before we go t-traipsing through the p-place,” I tell Jace between chattering teeth as he sets me down. I toe off my sneakers, grimacing at the way they squelch. These are going straight into the garbage as soon as soon as possible. My entire outfit is trash now. But getting this muck off my body is priority number one. I step toward the shower. Though, if I’m honest, a clean body isn’t my only goal. I’m also after the warmth the shower will provide. Every inch of my exposed flesh is covered with gooseflesh, and even my shivers have shivers.