by Claire Adams
Johnny joked about how he would tell all the frat guys that he’d “struck gold” with me, letting them think that he meant how wealthy my family was and how well-connected, when what he really knew the “prize” as he put it, was me myself. “Don’t get me wrong; if any of those guys I played hockey with wants to give me a job when I graduate, I’m not going to turn them down.”
“Aren’t you planning on going into the majors?” I asked him. Johnny shrugged.
“It’s iffy, getting in there. There’s a lot of scrutiny. I’d love to keep playing, but it’s really difficult to get a spot on a team.” He looked at me. “Besides, I’d hate to spend so much time away from you.”
“But if you love to play…” I realized I was talking as if we’d just go on being together and felt an instinctive spurt of fear that had nothing to do with baseless suspicions. “I mean, don’t rule anything out. You’re a great player, you’ve got good grades.”
“We’ll see how the future unfolds. For now, I’m happy to just be with you and get through school as well as I can manage.”
We finally made it back to campus and Johnny pulled into the temporary parking next to the dorms. I was exhausted, but as he lifted me down from the high seat, wrapping his arms around me, I thought about what it would take to sneak Johnny into my room again. He kissed me, his hands wandering over my body slowly — not enough to be indecent, but enough to set a little tingling fire starting through my belly, down into my hips. I wanted him. I wished that I had the energy to do more than kiss him; I wished that the stupid dorm wasn’t girls-only at night.
Johnny and I kissed for what seemed like hours, breaking away to murmur silly little things to each other before starting up again. I knew that neither of us wanted to separate, that neither of us wanted to be the one to break off and end the night. It had been a stupid party with my parents, but the little tryst in my bedroom and the drive to and from had made it a lot better than it might have been. I hoped that I would never have to go to another one of my parents’ events by myself ever again — and I hoped, deep down, that I could just keep going to them with Johnny.
Finally, Johnny broke away from my lips, looking down at me. We were both panting slightly, and I could feel the ridge of his hardening erection pressing into me, showing that he was starting to get as turned on as I was. We’d have to stop or find a way to keep going somewhere more private. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” Johnny said, smiling slightly at me. “Since the moment I first laid eyes on you, actually.” I tilted my head, confused. A little voice in the back of my mind warned me to expect something terrible, though it wouldn’t specify exactly what it could be.
“What’s that?” I asked, smiling up at him. Johnny kissed me lightly on the lips once more, barely a peck.
“I love you.” My eyes widened. Of all the things I had expected to come out of his mouth, that had not been on the list; we had only been seeing each other a few weeks. I couldn’t imagine any guy Johnny’s age or mine being ready to say that so soon. He’d wanted to tell me that since he first saw me?
“You’re kidding me,” I said, giving him a playful nudge. Johnny shook his head, still smiling.
“Nope. Ever since you ran into me, right when that happened and I saw your beautiful face, I thought to myself ‘God, I love this girl.’” I blushed, smiling like an idiot.
“Before you even knew my name?” I laughed, delighted and more pleased than I could ever remember being. “What if my name was like—Gretchen, or something?” Johnny laughed.
“I don’t love you for your name, dummy,” he told me, kissing my forehead. “I love you because you’re sweet and beautiful and funny and smart.” Johnny kissed my lips once more. “I never want to be without you again. I want to just keep making you happy, making you smile exactly like this.” I blushed a deeper red, not quite able to meet his gaze for a moment.
“I love you, too,” I said finally, looking up into his bright eyes. We kissed one final time and then Johnny broke away, giving me a nudge towards the dorms. I watched him climb up into the truck and walked towards the entrance of the dorm building, still smiling like an idiot.
Chapter Ten
A few days later, I was once more happy, comfortable, and content with my life the way it stood. I was confident about Johnny and how he felt about me, I was glad that I hadn’t broached what was probably a needlessly painful subject just to satisfy stupid paranoia that I was feeling. Whoever had commented anonymously on Claire White’s memorial page obviously had a grudge against Johnny and the stupid girl from the dining hall had obviously just wanted me out of the way so that she could go after him herself. Everything was the way that it should be.
I had told Georgia the next morning after my parents’ anniversary party about what Johnny had said and she had beamed. “See? I told you you should give him the benefit of the doubt.” I felt a little guilty over the fact that I had let her linger in the belief that Johnny and I had talked about the situation even though we hadn’t, but I couldn’t bring myself to correct her. But everything was all good in my life, so it wasn’t like there was much to worry about on that score.
Just like we had before, Johnny and I texted each other constantly through the rest of the weekend, chatting about silly things — stupid class assignments and group projects, things going on in the Phi Kappa house, and upcoming games. There was an away game coming up, which made me a little sad. After taking a few days away from him, I wanted to make up for lost time. But I knew that I didn’t really have much grounds to complain. After all, if Johnny wasn’t the hotshot hockey player that he had always been, he might not have had those particular qualities that made me love him. I didn’t want to change anything about him at all.
I went to class and managed to focus on the things the professors were saying; it was definitely better for everyone when Johnny and I were together — at least from my perspective. I could daydream about him and still manage to get my notes down, still manage to somehow absorb whatever was going on around me. It was a really good compromise and I indulged myself as much as I could stand, especially when it came to telling Johnny about the little fantasies I entertained or hearing about the ones he had thought up involving me.
We could go out to the woods again, make a whole night of it, Johnny suggested. Not just have s’mores, but actually cook a meal, and then I’ve got this really comfy tent we could sleep in…or not sleep, haha. I countered that he would have to find a way to deal with the mosquitoes and he suggested that keeping me in the tent through the night was good enough to prevent getting bitten.
Well, we could take a trip to my parents’ house, I suggested. I mean, yeah, they won’t let us sleep in the same room, but what’s to stop us from sneaking out to the hot tub after they’ve gone to bed? I’ve never had sex in a hot tub before.
Back and forth the messages flew between us; they weren’t all crazy and sexy, but a lot of them were, and I joked to Johnny that with the plans we’d stacked up between us — different fantasies and ideas — we’d never manage to make it through finals, we’d be too busy getting each other off.
We met for lunch every day and Johnny walked me to class every morning, catching me halfway from the dining hall to the building and taking advantage of the fact that I always left a little early to pull me off to the side where we could have some privacy and make out with me. I was in a nearly-constant state of bliss, spending more time with the man I loved without doubting him. Everyone had more or less accepted the fact that Johnny was into me wasn’t on the market anymore. I guessed that Georgia might have let slip the fact that he had said “I love you” to someone in the dorms. I still got envying glances from the girls, especially when Johnny and I walked around campus together holding hands, obviously a couple, but no one made any real, overt moves to flirt with him while I was around.
Earlier in the morning, Johnny had walked me to class, giving me a last, lingering kiss when we got to the door that put m
e in the perfect state of mind to daydream. Fortunately, the class I was in would be more difficult to fail than it would be to pass. Introduction to Academic Life was the least challenging of all of my classes, of any class I had ever taken. The lesson of the day was about procrastination and good work habits, and while the professor droned on about calendars and using different apps to manage our college work load and make sure we didn’t have finals sneak up on us all at once, I started to think about Johnny.
My favorite little fantasy about him was taking him to my parents’ house while they were out on vacation. We would lounge around in the hot tub, making out, touching each other everywhere, getting really hot and heavy, and maybe making love for a little while. Then we’d go back up to my room again. I imagined Johnny laying me in my bed, going down on me, teasing me the way he always did — bringing me to the edge of climaxing and then backing off, over and over again until I was sure I would die if he didn’t let me orgasm.
I was just starting to get really turned on, able to feel how wet I was becoming, to feel the heat in my cheeks and chest as I imagined Johnny slithering up along my body to kiss me on the lips and finally give me what I wanted, when my phone started vibrating in my pocket. I pulled it out carefully to keep from getting caught, but instead of a text from Johnny, it was my mom calling me. I frowned. I had been careful to tell her about when I had classes—but of course, she didn’t even pay attention. I rolled my eyes and pressed the button to stop the vibrating. It was probably just an invitation for Johnny and me to come to dinner.
As I walked over to my second class of the day, my phone started vibrating again; once more, it was mom. I rolled my eyes and told myself that I would deal with it later. She always managed to forget anything about my life that wasn’t convenient to her. It vibrated two more times during class with calls from her and by the time I was out of class for a couple of hours, lunch and a little break before my afternoon classes, I saw that she had left a couple of messages. I walked out to the little seating area off to the side of the building outside and decided that whatever it was obvious she thought was urgent; I listened to the first message. “Hey, Becky. I really need you to give me a call back.” That was fairly standard, but Mom’s voice sounded tense. Maybe she’d had a fight with Dad. Or maybe there was some huge catering mishap and she needed to vent. “Becky-love,” the second one — tenser than the first — started out. “Please give me a call back as soon as you get this. We really need to talk. Really. We need to talk.”
Oh good grief, I thought to myself, watching as my classmates drifted towards the dining hall. My stomach was rumbling, too. I’d listen to the last message and then text mom to let her know I would call her back soon, and then I’d eat something. Whatever was going on in her life could not possibly be that urgent. Oh God — what if Dad’s been in an accident? That would be a big deal. That would be a huge deal. No wonder Mom would have completely forgotten about my schedule — my schedule wouldn’t matter in the face of that. I opened up the most recent voicemail and held the phone to my ear. “Becky, I know you’re busy, but please, please give me a call back as soon as you can. Your father and I hired a private investigator to look into Johnny. Before you roll your eyes at me or doing that, you really need to listen. We knew you two were getting serious, so we had him checked out just as a matter of course. Becky! Becky — you have to stay away from him. He’s dangerous. Call me back just as soon as you can, sweetie.” I stared at my phone for a long moment as the shock rolled over me. I had no idea what to do.
Continued in Breathless #4, the breathless series on June 18th. Click here to continue.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams