by J. S. Scott
“You won’t,” I told her.
She shot me a stubborn look. “I will.”
“I’ll help you,” I said, not thinking about my words before they came out of my mouth. “I know how to have fun, and how to do something just for the hell of it. But I’d need a list.”
“You’ll be busy with your new contract.”
“Not right away. I’ll have time before we start up the pre-season stuff. The season is over, and I promised myself a break. The only thing I really have to do is work on my throws. Since I injured my shoulder, my arm is a little bit off. I have to learn to compensate.”
“That makes sense,” she mused. “If you don’t have full usage, or if some of the anatomy has changed since your injury, you have to calculate what needs to be adjusted so you’re completely accurate again. But you had an amazing season.”
“I got through, and I did well, but I could be better.” I was determined to be the best damn quarterback the Cats had ever had. I wasn’t the least bit shy about taking the rewards my work had earned, but I was always pushing for better.
“I could probably help,” she suggested.
“How?”
“I do have a doctorate in condensed matter physics,” she reminded me. “Really, throwing accurately is all about the laws of physics.”
“Sometimes I forget how smart you are,” I admitted. “I’ll take any help I can get.”
She yawned right before she answered, “That’s always been something I’ve liked about you. You don’t see me as a freak.”
I gritted my teeth. “You’re not a freak. There’s nothing wrong with being gifted and focused. It makes you special. But you’re also human. Everybody needs some downtime for their sanity. Even if you don’t see the point of doing useless things. Consider it therapy.”
I stood with Lauren still in my arms. She was exhausted, and she needed to get some sleep.
Her arms shot around my neck and she let out a surprised squeak as she settled more comfortably in my arms. “So we help each other?”
I hugged her naked form to my harder frame. Having fun wasn’t the only thing I wanted to teach her, but I couldn’t let myself go there. “We help each other,” I confirmed in a voice filled with tension.
There was no way I could pretend that having her naked in my arms didn’t affect me. My dick was as hard as a rock.
Desire thrummed through my body as I carried her into the bedroom she’d claimed when she’d arrived. I ripped back the covers and sat her on the pristine white sheet.
I tried to straighten up, but Lauren still had her arms around my neck.
“I really am sorry, Graham. I won’t apologize for wanting to have sex with you, but I hate what happened with Jack and Hope.”
Damned if I was going to apologize for those brief moments of ecstasy, either. I couldn’t. It had felt too damn good, but I knew it couldn’t happen again.
Lauren was the kind of woman who deserved a solid commitment from a guy she fucked.
And I was a man who couldn’t commit.
Not to Lauren.
I cared about her too damn much.
Marrying Hope had been part of my life plan, and I’d been okay with that.
Lauren was a completely different situation.
I couldn’t lose her friendship. She’d been one of the only stable people in my life, and she’d always been there for me no matter how poor and pathetic I’d been when I was younger. Lately, since I’d had such a phenomenal season and been offered the world, I had no idea who was friend or foe. I’d gotten a lot of attention, but only because I was suddenly in the limelight.
Leaning down, I kissed her softly on the forehead. “Forget about it,” I suggested huskily. “I dodged a bullet with Hope. It’s not all bad.”
Strangely, my ex-fiancée had been the last thing on my mind for the last few hours.
“You deserve so much more,” Lauren murmured.
I wanted to tell her I didn’t deserve shit. It wasn’t like I’d done a whole lot of admirable things in my life. But that was a side of my life I didn’t discuss with anybody. “I won’t be looking for a while.”
I wasn’t ready to go in search of another perfect woman who would get me closer to my goals. Focusing on my career seemed like a much better idea.
“We could be friends with benefits,” Lauren said breathlessly. “It could work out. Neither one of us really want a relationship right now.”
We were so close that I could feel the warmth of her breath on my face. I hesitated for a moment, my eyes glued to her hopeful expression. It would be so easy to fall into her gorgeous blue eyes, and bury myself inside her fucking perfect body. Hell, I knew I’d forget that Hope even existed if I was fucking Lauren.
I’m not going to take advantage of the fact that we’re both drunk.
She’d feel differently after she slept off her buzz. I mentally noted that I hoped I’d sleep off this sudden obsession to fuck her, too. My sexual attraction to Lauren wasn’t comfortable for me. I’d always been her hero, and she’d always been my little Peanut. Looking at her differently now that she was all grown up was awkward.
She was so familiar, yet suddenly so unknown.
Our eyes locked, and it took everything I had to pull her arms from around my neck and move away from her. “I can’t,” I answered with regret. “It won’t work for me.”
Once I’d had Lauren, I’d want more. I sensed it. There was no possible way we could be fuck buddies and remain friends when it was over.
Besides, I had some powerfully protective instincts when it came to Lauren, and I was far from safe for her. I never knew I’d end up fighting myself to keep her safe, but that’s exactly what I was doing.
“Okay,” she agreed in a soft voice. “I shouldn’t have even suggested it, but what happened earlier made me want to complete the experience.”
I knew exactly how she felt. My entire body was tense, and my cock hated me at the moment for depriving it from something it desperately wanted. “We can’t always get what we want, Peanut,” I said in a graveled tone as I walked to the door, exited, and closed it firmly behind me.
I understood wanting.
Nobody knew better than me how hard it was to stop desiring things I could never have.
CHAPTER 8
Graham
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO…
“I hate my life,” eight-year-old Lauren said angrily as she came through the door of her home.
I looked at the tow-headed little girl, and wanted to smile at her statement, something that probably shouldn’t be said by a grade school kid, but Lauren was in a school for the gifted, and most of her classmates had several years on her.
Lauren was the brightest of the bright, and she was setting all kinds of records for her lightning-fast progress through school.
Jack had needed to make a run to the store with his dad, and I was studying at the Swift kitchen table, waiting for them to come back with all the stuff they needed for dinner.
I’d had homework to do, and if I wanted to make the high school football team someday, my grades would have to be decent to make the cut.
Putting down my pencil and closing my book, I asked, “What happened?”
She put her backpack on the table, and I wondered, not for the first time, how she managed to carry all those heavy books. “Dennis’s mother said I was a freak of nature,” she said sadly. “She probably thought I didn’t hear her, but I did.”
“Who is Dennis?” I asked, confused.
“He goes to my school. He’s only slightly gifted, so he’s old,” she huffed, tipping up her tiny chin in an effort to act like she wasn’t upset.
“His mom brought you home?” I guessed. All of the students at Lauren’s school who lived in the same area did a carpool schedule.
She nodded as
she opened the refrigerator, obviously looking for a snack. “I was sitting in the back seat. But I heard her tell Dennis that I was a freak of nature in a quiet voice.”
By old, Lauren probably meant that Dennis was several years older than her.
I was so proud of my Peanut, but I knew she wasn’t having an easy time in school, and it wasn’t going to get any better. At her current speed, she’d finish high school at least a year before Jack and I did. Maybe more.
Lauren got speculated about by a lot of people because of her brain power, but it made me mad when anybody insulted her. There was nothing wrong with her. “They’re just jealous,” I told her.
She sat down at the table with an apple in her hand. “I’m different,” she said in a moody tone I’d gotten to know well.
“There’s nothing wrong with being different,” I said in her defense. I knew how she felt. “Who wants to be like everybody else?”
Truthfully, I knew what it was like to want to just blend in and not get anybody’s attention. But Lauren had no reason to be ashamed of herself. She should be proud of herself. “Don’t pay attention to them, Lauren. I think they just want to be like you.”
She lifted a brow at me, and I really wanted to laugh. Sometimes she acted like an adult in a child’s body. “Do you think so?” she asked timidly.
I nodded hard. “I do. You’re brilliant, and everybody is just sad that they aren’t as smart as you are.” I picked up my pencil again and started to twirl it around. “I wish I was as smart as you, but I’m not jealous. I just wish I could do better in school. I’m not smart at all.”
She finished chewing a bit of her apple before she answered, “You’re not dumb, Graham,” she said empathetically. “I can help you with your homework. You have attention deficit and hyperactivity disorder, but that doesn’t mean you’re ignorant or dumb.”
“I can’t even say the whole thing,” I told her. “I just call it ADHD.”
I would have preferred for Jack and Lauren not to know about my problems, but they’d discovered my ADHD because Jack’s dad had to give me medication when I was hanging out here.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Lauren asked, making me think of her as an adult psychologist.
Peanut had never really been with kids her own age. Her dad had discovered she was gifted early, and she’d never had the chance to go to a regular school. But really, I didn’t think she would have been happy with kids her own age, either.
I shook my head hard. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Even though Lauren and Jack knew I had ADHD, I didn’t talk about my problems with anybody.
She nodded. “Then I’ll help you with your homework if you’ll let me.”
My chest ached as I saw her kind smile. It wasn’t often that anybody offered to help me. But I was struggling with math class, and Lauren, once I got her to slow down, was good at helping me understand.
She was gifted in more than one area, but math was one of her talents.
“Okay,” I agreed. I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to do better in school. “Thanks.”
She rose and threw her apple core away, and then washed her hands. After scooting a kitchen chair closer to mine, she climbed up on it. “Show me what’s giving you difficulty right now?”
I grinned down at her as I put my pencil down to open up my book. It was always funny to see a little girl helping people who were way older than her. “Are you smarter than your teacher?” I asked as I snatched her glasses to clean them.
Lauren might be a genius, but she never cleaned her glasses.
She looked thoughtful for a moment before she answered, “Not yet.”
I laughed before I showed Lauren the problems I’d had difficulty solving.
It had to suck when you knew you were almost as smart as your teacher at the age of eight. But I didn’t see Lauren as different. I just saw her as my friend.
By the time I went home later that night, my homework was all done.
I owed Lauren big time, and I was going to repay her by buying her a teddy bear I’d seen in the store when I’d gone with my foster parents. I’d been saving my lunch money to get it. It didn’t matter if I was a little hungry when I got home from school. Lauren had helped me a lot over the last year, and I wanted her to have a friend around even when I wasn’t with her.
It might take me a few more weeks of saving, but I’d get it eventually.
I thought she’d love it because the teddy bear had glasses just like hers. Maybe she’d feel less alone if she had a smart stuffed animal that was just like her.
CHAPTER 9
Lauren
THE PRESENT...
Sleep came quickly to me—a gift of over indulging. The next morning, however, was not as kind. I woke with a headache I told myself I’d earned, and more than one regret about the night before.
Luckily, feeling awkward was a sensation I knew how to handle well. I’d felt some variation of it for most of my life. Just never with Graham.
I stumbled to the bathroom to relieve myself then shower. As I stood beneath the hot spray of water, I didn’t want to wash away the memory of his touch. I wanted to bottle the sensation of being his, even if it was just for a few moments, and keep it with me. The brain’s synapses didn’t work that way. The details would naturally fade away over time unless they were repeated.
I soaped myself, closing my eyes while letting every sensation I could recall come back to me. And just as they had denied myself the final pleasure the night before, my thoughts sabotaged this reverie as well. He said there should be no guilt, but I did feel guilty. Graham was probably thinking he’d taken advantage of me, but the reverse was closer to the truth.
Jack was out there somewhere and I was so angry with him that if I didn’t see him again it would be too soon. At least, that’s how it felt. Would time change that as well?
Imagining not knowing where Graham was or how he was doing tangled my insides painfully. I turned off the shower and dressed in jeans and T-shirt while my mind ran through simulations and the probable outcomes.
I could attempt to pretend I didn’t remember much about the night before. Graham might be relieved if I did. The lure of that option was I didn’t have to face how many times I’d offered myself to him—even as he laid me on the bed. It might salvage some of my pride, but it would mean lying to Graham and I’d never done that. Also, where would it take us? There probably wasn’t a better way to end my friendship with him than inserting that kind of lie into it.
I could apologize again. Honestly, I felt sorry enough about what Jack had done as well as how I’d used the situation to get what I’d always wanted that apologies would come easily—and with great frequency. I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me, though. If I was hurt by last night, Graham would be, too. I couldn’t bear the idea of hurting him more.
I could act as if being with him had left me unaffected. People fucked all the time and, by his definition, we didn’t even get to the point where we needed to count it. I could be cool as a cucumber, sophisticated like some of the women I’d seen him date. The problem? Graham knew me too well. He’d know I was trying to be brave for him. It might not even be a lie I could sustain. And where would it lead? What’s the next step? Fucking someone else to prove my indifference? I didn’t want that. Not for me. Not for Graham.
As I blew my hair dry, I gave myself a stern look in the mirror. Graham said he didn’t want to lose me. He was willing to separate what Jack had done from our friendship. He might not love me the way my heart ached for him to, but he did love me. I needed to honor that. Graham’s life was full enough with people who wanted to take from him. There were many things I didn’t know, but I was certain I didn’t want to be one of those people.
What would being a loving friend to him look like after last night? It would require some painfu
l honesty and then more love than lust. Since this was the first time I’d given into my craving for him, I suppose I had the restraint necessary to continue on that way—as long as we didn’t drink together again.
Honesty then restraint. I found a notebook and pen beside the bed. He’d said if I wrote a list he’d help me fulfill it. That sounded healthy. Loving. And I’d promised to help him compensate for his injury. I already had ideas for how and having a new problem to solve was exciting.
Not as exciting as the idea of Graham showing up at my bedroom door because he decided finishing what we started was what he wanted, but it would have to suffice.
As soon as I opened the kitchen door I was assailed by the heavenly scent of my favorite breakfast—blueberry muffins. I had brought some mix myself, but it was now tucked into my luggage. The only way Graham would have been able to make muffins was if he’d also brought a box of mix with him. Even though he’d been engaged, even though he was there to celebrate his own success, he hadn’t forgotten me. I hesitated at my door and blinked back tears.
Graham didn’t give himself credit for the good in him. I wished he could see himself through my eyes.
Could designing the right list help him do that? Yes, I believe it can.
Could helping him restore stability to our friendship? It just might.
All I had to do was proceed openly, honestly, and remember that what we had was so much more than what our bodies wanted.
I took a fortifying breath and walked into the kitchen with the blank notepad in one hand and pen in the other. Dressed in a T-shirt that hugged his muscular chest and jeans that did nothing to conceal the power of his thighs, Graham looked up as I entered. He was leaning against the kitchen counter with his phone in one hand. Behind him was a rack of fresh muffins that were cooling on the stovetop. Our eyes met and held. I saw a myriad of emotions in his: concern, regret, and a flash of something I hadn’t expected to—desire.
Holy shit. It rocked right through me and replaced the calm morning greeting with a more guttural, “I understand why it’s better if we don’t fuck.”