by Cathryn Fox
The party continues downstairs, and with my head on his chest, his rumbling stomach sounds loud. “You need food.”
“Yeah, but I’m not going out there.”
“Can we order in? Maybe pizza.”
He laughs. “It wouldn’t make it up the stairs.”
“I think I might have a granola bar in my purse.”
He tugs me in tighter and flicks on the TV. “How about we just hang out, and once they all go to bed, which shouldn’t be too long, everyone is exhausted, we’ll go downstairs, and we’ll make something.”
“Okay,” I say. We’ve pretty much been eating cereal, sandwiches or takeout for the last couple of weeks, so something home-cooked would be nice. So much for me waiting on him and cooking and cleaning. He’s not made me do any of those things.
I snuggle into him, while he flicks through the stations and stops when he comes to an MMA fight. “Oh, hell no,” I say and snatch the remote from him.
He laughs. “Fine, what do you want to watch?”
“Not that.”
He groans. “Please don’t put on a chick flick.”
I come across an old college movie about a girl going home for Thanksgiving. “I love this one.”
“If you say so.”
“Are you still planning to go to Aspen for Thanksgiving, after your big game on Friday?”
He nods. “That depends. Are you still planning on going home?”
“Yes.” Once again, an invitation lingers on my tongue. My mom would lose her mind—in a good way—if I brought Christian home, but I can’t let her think I’m involved with him. This is so not a relationship and she’d jump to conclusions.
“They call that the big turkey dump.” he says and having no idea what he’s talking about, I lift my head and frown. He grins. “You know when someone leaves home for college, leaving their boyfriend or girlfriend behind, and starts a new exciting life. Then they go back home at Thanksgiving and end up dumping the one they were with. It’s the big turkey dump.”
I burst out laughing. “How do you know that?”
“I don’t know, and with the way you’re looking at me, I’m kind of embarrassed that I do.” He eyes me. “You don’t have anyone at home waiting for you do you. Like Ryan?”
“No, what about you?”
“Nope. No former, present or future girlfriends,” he says.
“Why is that, Christian?”
15
Christian
I don’t answer her. Instead, I stare at the television and pretend I didn’t hear. Honestly, I don’t mean to be a rude prick. This girl just opened up to me sexually and handed herself over, but I don’t want to get into my past, or my demons. I’m not about to drag her into my fucked-up world, although there is some weird needy part of me that wants to open up to her, but what’s the point? She’s not going to be in my life much longer. She basically said so herself, and I should be okay with that.
Why the hell aren’t I? Maybe I don’t want to examine that too closely.
She falls quiet, and turns away, aware that I’ve gone silent, that it’s a subject I’m not ready to delve into. We snuggle, and watch the movie until the end, until the house quiets down, and when the credits roll, I glance down at her, figuring she’d fallen asleep, but no, she smiles up at me and my heart wobbles in my too-tight chest as I gaze back. Jesus, she’s so sweet, innocent and beautiful. I don’t think she’s been told enough how special she really is.
“Hey,” I say quietly. “Want to go get something to eat?”
“Yes, I’m starving.”
I slide from the bed and grab a pair of sweatpants and a big sweatshirt. “These are big, but should be okay.”
As she dresses and puts her boot back on, I tug on my jeans, and grab a clean T-shirt. I move the chair from the door, still pissed that Channing broke the lock, and glance up and down the hall.
“Coast is clear,” I say and hold my hand out. She slides her small palm into mine and I can’t help but think the fit is perfect, that her hand might just be made for mine, and mine alone, but as that thought moves around my brain, I’m worried that I might have to cash in my man card. Laughing quietly to myself, we head downstairs and I’m seconds from scooping her up, when she shakes her head.
“It’s okay. I can walk.”
In the kitchen, I take two glasses from the cupboard, and find her heading to the fridge. She pulls out the water jug, and I swallow against a dry throat, not because I’m thirsty, but because seeing her in my clothes fucks me over just a tiny bit.
“So just you and your mom huh?” I ask, and while I’d love for her to stay here over the holidays or come to Aspen with me, family is important to her and I’d never want to come between their tight relationship.
I like the smile on her mouth when she says, “Yeah.”
“Do you mind if I ask about your dad? Is he in the picture?”
She shakes her head, and fills our glasses with water. “No, he was a cheater, and left when I was young. Gone, never to be heard from again.”
“He didn’t take care of you guys?” I ask, wanting to know more, everything, about her, even though I ignored her personal question.
“No.”
“What a prick.”
She smiles. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think?”
What I really think is she’s had it rough, and probably has some deep-rooted trust issues with men that began very early on in life. Pulling my pants down in the closet, that really doesn’t seem like something she’d do, but I guess people will go to extremes to fit in.
“Just did.”
She comes from behind and wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her chest to my back and while I’m used to physical contact being about sex, this isn’t. She’s touching me with tender hands, this embrace is the furthest thing from sex, and probably the nicest hug I’ve ever felt. I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and put my hands on hers as she links them over my stomach. Her skin is so soft to the touch, so warm, and like her, does the weirdest thing to me, makes me want to spill all my secrets, and open up to her in a way I never have to another. What the hell is going on with me?
“I’m sorry for not answering your question earlier,” I say.
“I never should have asked it. It’s not my business and I’m sorry.”
I turn to her, lean against the kitchen counter, and widen my legs to position her in between. She puts her hands around my neck and smiles at me, asking nothing from me. She never has, actually, and I’m not really used to that. Everyone wants something from the quarterback.
“Sex should never be used to trap anyone.”
Her eyes go saucer wide and she tries to inch back. “Christian…I…never…”
“No, no, no that didn’t come out right,” I say quickly. “You’re the last person who’d ever use anyone for anything, Maize.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
I tug on my hair. “I just…I didn’t mean to blurt that out. This isn’t easy for me to say, and to be honest, it’s not something I ever talk about.”
She goes quiet, and just stands there and lets me work this out in my head without judgement or input. It’s what I need right now and somehow, she knows that. I make a mental note never to underestimate this girl. She’s fucking smart. I really love that about her.
Love?
Well, I like it, I mean.
“Mom met Dad in college. Like you, he wanted to go to law school. It was love at first sight. That’s how Mom tells the story anyway.” I give a humorless laugh. “Grandma, she tells it quite differently.” She nods and I continue with. “Anyway, Dad got accepted into Harvard law, and they were having quite a bit of relationship troubles. Arguing all the time, because she wanted to go with him, wanted to set up house, but he wasn’t ready for that. He had a long, hard four years ahead of him and he wanted to concentrate on his studies. He just wanted to get a quiet place where he could focus, but Mom wanted to move in with him.”
&
nbsp; “I can actually understand your father wanting a quiet place. That’s my goal too, and I wouldn’t want anything distracting me from that and Harvard is expensive.”
“They broke up, and Dad was ready to move on when Mom announced she was pregnant with me.”
Her head rears back. “Oh wow.”
“She got pregnant to trap Dad, because she knew he came from money and was going to be successful himself, and would give her the life she wanted. She had plans to go to college too, now she didn’t have to. She could just marry into the life she wanted. She was a social climber.”
“Did you and your mother ever talk about it?” She puts her palm on my cheek and I lean into her warmth. “Did you ever question your grandmother?”
“I didn’t want to believe it.” I snort and shake my head. “Who wants to think they were only born as a pawn?”
“No one. At least I know I was the product of love. There was a time Dad was faithful and according to Mom, there was a time he loved me. I guess I just wasn’t enough for the love to last.”
I shake my head. “This isn’t on you, Maize. You can’t own that. Your father did what was best for him. You being enough had nothing to do with it, because you are enough.” I push her hair from her face, and take in her eyes. She blinks and glances down, but not before I read what’s written there—somewhere deep inside her, she doesn’t think she’s enough.
Fuck that.
“I guess I could put that on you too, Christian. Maybe you weren’t born out of love, but that doesn’t mean your parents don’t love you.”
“Yeah, that’s why they don’t come to my games,” I say with a laugh, but I don’t want her pity. No, I don’t want anyone feeling sorry for me. “Look, it’s okay. I know what I am and I know what I’m not.”
“What does that mean?”
“I was a means to an end. Dad and I might not be close, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have good traits. Grandma raised him to be a guy who always does the right thing.”
“I guess you get that from him.”
“He loves law and I love sports. You know, if we didn’t look alike, I’d even wonder if I was his.” She angles her head, her eyes wide. “Oh, believe me if you saw him, you wouldn’t question it.”
“Handsome, is he?” she says with a teasing grin.
I shake my head. “Is that all I am to you? A pretty face?”
She touches my chin, runs her finger along my cheek. “Yeah, but keep talking,” she says and even though she’s kidding, it still stings.
“I have an amazing grandmother. She might not like Mom, but she loves me. She often came to D.C. to spend time with me while Dad was at work and Mom was off doing her thing. We did a lot together and it was hard leaving my friends when we moved to So Cal, but she was here, and that made it easier.” I smile. “You would like her.”
“It sounds like she is awesome, but I’m pretty sure we’ll never meet.”
I go quiet for a long time and consider that, remembering what this is and what it isn’t. “Yeah, you’re right,” I say, noting the strange knot tightening in my gut, one that shouldn’t be there in the first place.
“So all that?” she asks with a frown. “Your mother’s betrayal, your parents, their neglect, that turned you off relationships?”
“I guess.”
“You’re not your father, Christian.” She taps my nose. “You’re better than that.”
I give a humorless laugh as my stomach growls, a reminder that it’s been far too long since I’ve eaten. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I slap her backside and she yelps. “Now why don’t you take a seat over there, and you can watch these hands work magic.”
“I thought I already had.”
I laugh at that, liking the way she makes me feel. She’s about to move, but someone stumbles into the hall, and I reposition the two of us until she’s the one pressed against the counter behind me. I do not need one of my drunken brethren coming in here and making crude remarks, or looking at her inappropriately. She deserves better than that, and I’d rather be inside the kitchen with her than outside Wolf House beating the crap out of someone. I’m not sure what it is, but when it comes to her, I can’t help but be possessive…obsessive.
We stand there in silence for a moment, until whoever is in the other room collapses onto the sofa with a loud groan. I seriously need to get out of this place. I’m not even sure if I can tough it out until graduation.
“Wait a second.” She nods and I head to the massive living room to find Barrett face down on the sofa. I turn his head to the side so he doesn’t suffocate and head back to the kitchen to find Maize exactly where I left her, a worried look on her face.
“You okay?” I ask, and step up to her. She nods and unable to help myself I press a soft kiss to her mouth.
“What was that for?” she asks when I break it.
“You’re irresistible.”
She laughs like she’s not sure if she believes me and takes a seat at the long oaken table, dented and bruised from one too many kitchen parties. She covers her mouth as she yawns.
“Keeping you up, am I?” I ask as I grab eggs, milk and vanilla from the fridge.
“I don’t mind. I can sleep in for a bit tomorrow, and then I have study group.”
I set the ingredients on the counter. “Are you sure I can’t help?”
“Positive.”
She falls quiet as I go about making us some French toast. Nothing fancy tonight, because we’re both tired. “Want to go out to dinner tomorrow night?” I wait for her to answer and when none comes, I turn to her, and find her nibbling on her bottom lip. “What?”
“We usually just eat in.”
“I thought it might be fun to do something else. You must be feeling a bit cooped up in my bedroom.”
“Not really.”
“Still, let’s go out. I know this great little place over in Barrington.”
She laughs. “Do you have something against the food around here?”
I stir the eggs and dip the bread in. “Nothing against the food. Just something against everyone knowing me wherever I go.”
“You’re a private guy, aren’t you?”
I arch a brow and take in the astonishment in her eyes. “You say that like you’re surprised.”
“I am, actually.” She rubs her arms like she might have a chill. “You’re a football star, Christian. Everyone is always screaming your name, yet deep inside, you don’t really like it.” Her voice is soft, incredulous, like she just had a huge epiphany.
“You’re right, I don’t like it. I love football. I love the game, the plays, the comraderie and the competitiveness, but I don’t need everyone chanting my name. I don’t like everyone in my business. When I was young, I was always forced to go to Dad’s functions, and behave like the perfect little boy. I was always on display, my every move scrutinized.”
“It still is,” she says.
“Yeah, you’re right. I have to keep on the straight and narrow or it could be detrimental to my father’s career. That’s why I take my private time very seriously. I don’t like anyone knowing my business. Football is one thing, but what I do behind closed doors—”
“Is pretty fantastic,” she says with a smile. She stands, comes up behind me and puts her arms around me as I toss the bread into the hot pan. “But I get it. I really do. I’m private too, and yet I’m a track star with thousands of eyes on me at every race.”
I touch her hand, rub it with my thumb, and she rests her cheek on the back of my shoulder. My heart thumps just a little harder, everything about the way she’s touching me is doing the weirdest things to my insides.
“What do you want to do after football, Christian?”
“I’d like to teach, maybe become a high school gym teacher.”
She makes a sound, like she’s impressed. “I think you’d be a good teacher.”
“Do you now?”
She chuckles. “I know things.”
&
nbsp; “Have you always wanted to be a lawyer?”
“For as long as I can remember.” I tap her hands to move her, so she doesn’t get burned as I plate the food. She steps back, and is about to sit when I place her food on the counter, in front of the stool next to me. I want her close. She folds her arms, and there is a small smile on her face as I divvy up the breakfast. “I have this thing for the underdog.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured that, and you know what, you’ll be a great lawyer because I know things too. You’ll get into Harvard, Maize. I know it.”
“Still working on my essay.”
“I’m sure you’ll blow them away.” I wink at her. “Maybe I’ll drop your name if I see Dean Saunders in Aspen.”
“Don’t you dare.” She gives me a warning glare and I like that she’s a girl who wants to make it on her own, but hell, we all need a little help once in a while. Right?
I grab silverware and syrup and we sit close at the counter. “You see this,” I say as I hold up a piece of French toast. She arches her brow as she chews. “This, my friend, is simply a mechanism for transporting syrup.”
She laughs, and we fall into an easy quiet as we eat. Once we’re done, we tidy up, and we head back upstairs, and the second she falls into my bed, I know in an instant, the cot in my room is no longer needed.
“Can you take me again, Maize?” I ask as my cock thickens.
She crooks her finger, and widens her long, silky legs as she gestures me closer. “Let’s find out.”
16
Maize
I close my textbook and press my fingers to my eyeballs. My God, I’ve been studying so hard, for so long, my brain is a blur. Here it is the Thursday before Thanksgiving, and the break can’t come quick enough. I’m about to lay my head on my books, and steal a nap right here in the library—Christian has been keeping me up late at night—when my best friend waves to me, and comes walking over.
“Hey, have you seen my former best friend around?” she asks and plunks down across from me. “Her name is Maize Malone.”