Saving Barrette

by Shey Stahl

  I came here to play college football and that’s what I’m doing. I’m not here to fuck around but, yeah, there’s the temptation to do that. I can if I want. It’s all around me. It’s easy. I wouldn’t even have to try. I can go to a party, and there’s three or four who will meet me at the door. Ready and willing.

  I want a girl who isn’t emotionally or physically available. I wish it wasn’t that way.

  It hurts that we can’t have that.

  It hurts like a son of a bitch.

  It just… fucking hurts.

  Eva makes her way over to me. She’s a cheerleader and tries every day to get my dick between her legs.

  “Homework is boring.” Her hands move to my chest over my heart, her dark hair sweeping over her shoulder. “I can distract you, if you’d like.”

  I crave the blonde hair and ocean eyes, and this girl isn’t any of those. I look down at her hand until she removes it. “I’m studying.”

  Good thing about these girls is they don’t like to be denied any more than they want to be humiliated. They’ll try again, another night, but they give up easily and move to the next willing guy. I’ve heard girls say how desperate some guys are in college, but I think that’s a fucked-up phrase. I’ve seen more desperate girls than I’ve seen guys. Maybe because they’re thrown our way, or they simply hang around like leeches waiting on their next meal.

  Maybe.

  When the girls leave, Terrell notices I never gave any the time of day. “What are you doing? Eva wants ya, A.”

  Terrell knows about Barrette and what she went through. He also knows my obsession with her. “I’m not interested.”

  “Are you still holding out for B?”

  I shrug one shoulder, knowing he’s not going to judge me.

  “Are you sure?” His lips purse as he runs his dark hand over his face. “I mean, I just… I don’t know, man. I hate seeing you like this.”

  Nodding, I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head, pushing my book away from me. “What do you mean like this? This, me now, this is all you’ve ever known of me.” Turning in my chair, I face him.

  He nods and slaps his hand over my shoulder. “I know, ya pathetic fuck.”

  Barrette isn’t okay. I see it in the tears she hides and the dark circles under her eyes. She tries so hard to cover it up. Sometimes I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want to know how bad it is. How far gone she is. Some might venture to say, why bother?

  I bother because I can’t not. I have to. Her parents don’t. Her friends don’t, but me, I fucking bother. I check on her. I make sure she’s eating and has someone to sleep in her bed when she’s sad.

  I’m really good at portraying indifferent and never letting her know that it’s fucking torture to lay in her bed with her and not touch her in all the ways I want to.

  Love makes people do stupid shit. Makes them look past lies and see a truth they believe is there.

  Only it’s not.

  I see what I want time and time again with the hope that she might change. That our situation might change. That someday, somehow, she’ll open her eyes and see I’m still there, waiting. She controls me. She takes my fucking breath and she suffocates me with just one look.

  Football players have playbooks. We’re expected to memorize them and know when and how to play them. Quarterbacks call the plays based on the offensive coordinator’s call, and then sometimes we look at the defense and we change it when we see how they are positioned.

  We call an audible. We change the play on the line of scrimmage.

  She’s my audible. I changed the play at the line that night and there was no going back on it.

  I FALL ASLEEP at my desk that night, drooling all over my research paper.

  When I wake, I sit back in the chair, turn off my lamp and then run my hands over my face. Terrell is asleep, snoring as usual and I notice that redhead he’d been with earlier, her hair is draped over his pillow and tucked in his arms.

  Reaching for my phone, I look at the screen to see Barrette sent me a text an hour ago.

  Barrette: You up?

  Me: I am now, sorry. Fell asleep.

  She replies instantly, letting me know the night is still holding her captive.

  Barrette: Can you come over?

  Me: Be there in 15.

  It’s three in the morning, but I shower then head over to her dorm just like I do every other night she needs me. Some might ask why I do this. Wait for it.

  I knock lightly, twice, and she opens the door, smiling, but there’s tears in her eyes. But do you see that smile? That relief? That’s why I do this. I get up at the ass crack of dawn even if it’s just to see a little bit of relief in her hopeless eyes. In the blue dawn of the morning hours when the restless night begins to give in, and she’s consumed by despair, she doesn’t want me to help her. She doesn’t want my comfort. She doesn’t want me to tell her everything is going to be okay. She wants me to lie beside her with her head on my chest. She wants to find comfort in my presence with the salt of her tears stinging the wounds I can’t see.

  And I do that. For her. Until she’s ready to let me help her heal. Until the shards of her heart are stitched together. I’ll sew them myself. I won’t let her fade into grief.

  Setting my backpack on the floor, I reach for her, my hands around her waist. “Rough night?”

  She nods. Her face is blank. Still, there’s some emotion there and her heart’s beating against my chest. Letting go of me, she moves back to her bed and motions me forward, lifting up her blanket and waiting.

  My heart beats faster when I see she’s not wearing any pants. Only my jersey. I turn my head to look over at the bathroom door. Luckily, Barrette has her own room. Her and Cadence’s rooms are separated by a joined bathroom.

  I fight the urge to not follow her to her bed. I shouldn’t. I know where this leads. She’s not wearing pants and I know exactly where my thoughts are going to go, because I’m already there. Running my hand through my hair, I kick my shoes off and reach over to shut the bathroom door. My heart is in my fucking throat, and my steps slow as I make my way over to her bed.

  Don’t touch her, I tell myself. And I think I can handle that and knowing damn well I won’t. Heaviness in my chest halts my movements, and I look down at her, the only light in the room the faint glow from outside streaming in through the window above her bed. There’s an expression on her face, one I haven’t seen before, and I can’t decipher its meaning.

  She smiles and I know I can’t deny her. Never stood a chance. So I swallow, try to breathe normally, and get into bed with her. Immediately, like I knew she would, she curls into my side, my left arm around her, her hand on my heart. It’s beating like crazy and I know she feels it. Hell, my entire body trembles, unprepared for where this might be heading.

  And then her hand moves lower, to my stomach. My breath catches, and I want to stop her, but I don’t. I wait to see what she’s doing.

  “Asa?” My name comes out shakily.

  I don’t say anything, but I turn my head to look at her. The street lamps outside light up her face in orange. I swallow hard. I want to kiss her like I want my next breath. I feel the pull, but I’m fucking hesitating. It’s not like me. On the field, I operate on instinct and I’m always right. But with Barrette, I’m always unsure what comes next. I’m not the one running plays here.

  Her hand lowers to the button of my jeans and something else is immediately hard. I feel like I can’t breathe, and suddenly my chest is shaking. My stare drops to her soft pink lips, and I want to know their taste.

  She doesn’t close her eyes. She meets my gaze head-on. Propping herself up on her elbow, her other hand moves to my head. Her fingers slide through my hair. Unable to pry my hands away from her, my fingers skim down her hand that’s on my stomach, holding her at bay.

  “I want you,” she whispers, her face inches from mine, her eyes burning. Her breath blows over me, and weakness claws at me.

 
I shift away from her, only a fraction of an inch to roll on my side. Excitement shoots through me. I want this. I do. “I’m here,” I assure her, knowing that’s not what she wants to hear, but I say it anyway because I don’t know what else to say. We’ve been in this position a few times. We’ve even kissed and got close once last year, but I pulled away. This time I’m not sure I’m going to have the strength to do so because I fucking want this so badly.

  “I know you are, and I want you.” Her leg moves, hitching up over my hip and my erection I know she has to feel straining in my jeans. “Right now.”

  I shift involuntarily when she brushes against my dick again, and my eyes flutter closed at the incredible sensation that shoots through my entire body. My hand moves from my side to her thigh and I fight the urge to roll her over and kiss her like I’m dying to do. “I… don’t know, B. Are you sure? I mean, what if it’s too much for you?” I shouldn’t even be considering this, but damn it, it’s fucking unbearable being this close to her and not being able to have her in the ways I want.

  She moves her hand from my stomach and rests it against my cheek. “It’s always too much, but with you, it’s better.” And then she leans in and presses her lips to mine. Part of me knows why she’s doing this. A distraction. The man in me doesn’t fucking care at this point. At first, I’m gentle with the kiss, unable to make sense of it, until… something happens inside me. Without question, I slide my tongue into her mouth. I forgot how good it felt to be this close to her, until she reminds me.

  The tip of her tongue strokes mine and I moan and pull her closer. Chest to chest, body to body, heart to heart, I want her. So badly.

  She pulls back, breathing heavily. “I forgot how good that feels with you.”

  One of my hands remain in her hair while I slip the other to her shoulder. I stare down at her, our bodies pressed together, there’s no space between us. I know she feels me, there, against her and when she lets out the moan against my lips and moves her hips against mine. I lose any self-control I had to deny her.

  My hand brushes down her neck where her pulse thrums against my fingertips and across her collarbone where the bubbled skin from the scars she has there are. Bite marks. She has permanent reminders of that night, and now she wants me to give her new memories. Good ones. Can I do that?

  I swallow again, my throat dry. “If I hurt you, tell me to stop,” I tell her, rolling on top of her and deepening the kiss. Like it or not, my mind is on the after. What this will do to her. Will it bring back memories she doesn’t want?

  She senses my hesitation and reaches for the hem of the jersey she’s wearing. She works it over her shoulders by wiggling around, and I realize she’d been completely naked underneath it this whole time.

  She tugs at my shirt. “Your turn.”

  I smile and sit up, barely able to tear my eyes away from between her legs. I remove it and reach for the button of my jeans. I look at her, waiting for her to stop me, but she doesn’t. So I take them off and with it, my boxers. She doesn’t look, her eyes are on mine. This time, my eyes slide over her body. Usually, I never let them stray in fear if she catches me watching her it will scare her. But this time, it’s different. She’s instigating this.

  She’s perfect… fucking perfect, soft, warm. I want to worship her like she deserves, and admit I love her.

  Don’t do that.

  Instead, realization hits me in the gut when Barrette starts stroking my dick. “I don’t have anything,” I admit, feeling defeated. I didn’t even think to bring a condom. Obviously.

  She shrugs and reaches for my shoulders. “I’m on birth control.”

  I nod, unsure, still. I mean, obviously I trust her, and I haven’t been with anyone. Ever. Not this way. My eyes shift, taking in the way her breasts look pushed against me. Do I even know what the fuck I’m doing? Sure, I know the basics of it all, but I have no idea what to do next.

  What a fucking pussy. Get it together.

  My chest feels heavy, like she stabbed me with the way she’s looking at me and slowly, just like her, I’m bleeding life. My heart may beat, but it’s beating for her. In the moonlight, her eyes catch mine, and I see the tears streaming down her face. Without saying anything, I kiss her forehead and press my chest into hers, but I don’t make an attempt to move between her legs.

  Her eyes slowly drink me in, drifting over my face and lingering on my chest. She tugs at my shoulders. “I’m not crying because I’m sad, or scared, I just… I want you, Asa. I always have and they took that from me. I want to give it to you, so please let me.”

  My hand goes to her back and strums along the bare skin of her shoulder. The reminder that they took something from her, the anger, it hits me hard, but I don’t let it faze me in front of her. I won’t let her see that side because like I said, I’m really fucking good at being indifferent, and the last thing I want to do is hurt her in any way.

  Barrette reaches between us, her hand wrapping around my erection. My hips automatically shift toward her, seeking out her soft hands. My mouth finds her shoulder, her neck, and then back to her mouth.

  “Please try,” she whispers against my cheek, kissing along my jaw before finding my lips.

  Emotion shifts inside me and I try, fuck do I try to find the courage to give her this, but will it be too much? Touching her face, I trace the line of her jaw. “Barrette…” I begin, and then my breath catches as I move between her legs and forget what I was going to say. My muscles tense, my kisses deepen, full of meaning and love. I don’t know if she knows it, but I try to assure with my touch that this means everything to me.

  She watches me, stroking my cheek in the process. I’ve never felt so alive as I do now, burning with nerves, excitement, and fear of what this will mean. But then her hips move, rubbing against me, searching for more and I nearly go insane. It feels so fucking good I can’t stop myself.

  I position myself between her legs and watch her reaction to me. Will she tell me to stop? Nothing. I wait. Still nothing.

  I draw in a ragged breath, unconvinced.

  She notices, her hand on my cheek. “I trust you,” she says, without uncertainty.

  I brush her cheek with my fingers and nod, blowing out a slow breath. At least she does because I have no clue what’s going to happen. I push against her opening and fucking moan. It’s embarrassing. But then her knees spread wider and she bites her lip. It doesn’t look like it’s from pain. It’s pleasure and written all over her.

  As I finally enter her, the connection I feel with her is indescribable. “Jesus,” I pant, pressing my forehead to hers, trying to catch my breath. My arms shake as I hold myself above her. I’m careful not to give her my full weight; she’s so tiny I’d crush her.

  The moment I’m fully sheathed inside, her entire body tenses beneath me. Her thighs squeeze around my waist, and her back arches as if her body is recoiling from the contact. I stop immediately, panic, and pull out completely. “I’m so sorry.” Even in the shadow that conceals my expression, I know she can see the fear radiating from me.

  “Don’t stop,” she pleads, gripping my shoulders and trying to pull me back inside. “Please, Asa.”

  I didn’t want to stop either, but if I was hurting her, no way. Holding myself above her, I look down, my brow furrowing with uncertainty. “Did I hurt you? You’re shaking.” She’s shaking, but I think I’m shaking harder.

  She places her fingers to my lips. “Please… I’m begging you. Give me good memories. I’m shaking because I want you so much.” She kisses me then.

  Part of me doesn’t like that she wants me to replace her memories of something that changed her life, and mine, but then there’s a good part of me that wants to. If I can show her that sex can be so much more than someone using your body, then maybe I can heal her? Maybe we can have more.

  Taking in a shaky, nervous breath, I enter her again, pull my hips back, then again. It’s almost too much to go slow, but I do, for her.

  Unfortuna
tely, I admit to her, “I’m really fucking sorry, but I’m not gonna last long.”

  She breathes a quick jagged breath, “It’s okay. It feels good.”

  Well, shit. I nearly came just off the idea she’s enjoying this.

  I move faster, this time sliding with ease. My breathing is all over the place and hers is about the same. My arms tighten around her body, pulling her into my movements. I’m not forceful, but I’m not as gentle as I want to be.

  She never gives me any indication I’m hurting her. No, she clings to me, desperately clutching to anything I give. Time ceases to exist. There’s only Barrette surrounding me, and me, inside her.

  “Asa,” she whimpers, her voice hardly recognizable, but I know it’s from pleasure.

  “I’m gonna come,” I pant, my movements slowing, trying to hold off. “Do you want me to pull out?”

  “No,” she gasps, refusing to allow any space between us. Her hips shift and allow me to slip deeper inside. It’s too much. “Come inside me, please. I want every part of you inside me.”

  Fuck. I don’t know what to make of her words, or even how to process them. My face presses into her neck, chasing my need and then I come, unable to hold it off any longer, my hips jerking forward in erratic movements. I groan through my release in her ear, holding her tighter than I want, but never hearing a complaint.

  It’s all over in a matter of minutes, and I realize this probably wasn’t very good for her. So much for replacing her bad memories. What an asshole. Jesus.

  Rolling off her, I run my hands through my hair. “I’m sorry. That probably sucked for you,” I say quietly, shifting to the side. She blinks rapidly and I think maybe she’s fighting tears. I watch her, apologetic and full of regret. Had I hurt her? Had this been too much for her?

  The corners of her lips pull up, her cheeks flushed, like she’s holding back laughter. “It was great.”