by Claire Adams
My life had changed so drastically I almost didn’t recognize it, and while I loved the fact that Devon and I were getting closer and closer every day, I couldn’t help but hope that things would just stay the same for a while, that I wouldn’t have to deal with another crisis. We studied in his room together—taking turns on each other’s work. I brought him the assignments from the class we shared; the professor had said that since I was Devon’s girlfriend, I could make sure that he kept up, so that once he passed the ACT on his re-take, he could jump right in once more.
We broke up our study sessions into chunks, going over parts of the test that Devon would have to take and then alternating with different things I needed to study. Devon was great at coaching me through the Chemistry material, and I even started to enjoy discussing the work for my other classes with him, excitedly explaining things that I was starting to understand. “I love the way your face lights up,” Devon told me one night that week, smiling in a way that I was starting to think he only ever did with me. “You’re like this enormous roman candle when you get excited, just shooting out everywhere. It’s awesome.”
With every passing day, Devon got better and better in his weak subjects, taking in the coaching I gave him and applying it with a focus that I knew had come from years of getting better and better at basketball. “You know,” I told him as I handed him a practice Reading section test, “if I ever get my hands on the teachers that made you feel like you were stupid, I’m going to end up in jail for assault and battery.” Devon laughed.
“It’s not their fault,” he told me, looking over the scores I had marked. “I had already stopped taking school itself seriously by the time they started giving up on me. It was mostly because I’d joke and fool around in class that my teachers just figured they’d give me a passing grade and have done with it.” I shook my head.
“Then I’m glad I’ve never been good at sports.” Devon grinned, giving me a shove.
“I gotta admit I’m kind of glad too. You’re so smart at everything—who would I have gotten to tutor me if I didn’t have you, babe?”
“Someone in one of the other frats,” I countered.
“Not as hot as you. Wouldn’t be nearly effective enough.” I decided one night to try and make a game out of our session; for every question that Devon got right on the English section of the practice test I quizzed him from, I’d take off one item of clothing. For every answer he got wrong, I put an item of clothing back on. Of course, Devon insisted that we should keep going and going until I was almost fully naked, sitting on his bed in nothing more than my bra and panties. And then, of course, we had to take a break—neither of us could focus on anything academic until we’d both gotten off.
It wasn’t all either sex or studying between us; throughout the week, I found myself spending more and more time just hanging out with Devon. He told me about his family and his friends from high school; he told me about the guys in the frat, and I told him about every little detail of my life that could possibly come up. I cooked dinner for him one night before our study session, picking the first dish my mother had ever taught me to cook, and Devon insisted to the rest of the frat that he had the absolute best girlfriend that any guy could have on campus: I was gorgeous, I was smart, I loved basketball, and I could cook. Everyone else would just have to die of envy or hope I had relatives.
I loved the fact that Devon and I could do nothing more than watch TV together and manage to have a good time; in the back of my mind, in spite of the fact that I had chosen to trust him instead of Kelly, I had thought that with a guy like Devon, we couldn’t possibly have much more than sex and basketball in common. Instead, we were able to talk about anything and everything, and even though I was getting less sleep than I ever had before in my life, I woke up happy and content, wrapped in Devon’s arms, ready for whatever the day might bring.
“You know,” I said, curled up in his arms one night as we were both starting to fall asleep, “it’s kind of amazing how fast this happened.” Devon nodded, his arms tightening around me slightly.
“I feel like I kept waiting for a reason to take my life more seriously,” Devon told me sleepily. “Like I knew I should be focused on getting good grades, doing the right thing… but it was too easy to just win and get what I wanted.”
“And now?”
“Well, I met this awesome girl, and at first—I’ll admit—I figured I’d just have a good time and then move on with my life. But babe, as soon as I woke up and you weren’t in bed with me, I knew it had hit me hard. I wanted to be around you—I wanted to keep you right here with me.”
“So sneaking out before you woke up was a great choice then.” Devon chuckled, nuzzling against my neck.
“I think I would have felt that way even if you’d been right there, but it definitely made me realize I was going to have to try way harder with you.” He kissed me on the lips lightly. “When you kept brushing me off—god, do you know how crazy that made me? I’d never been with anyone like you before. I’m almost glad everyone told you terrible things about me and made me work to earn your trust.”
“You’re secretly a masochist, is what you’re saying. You wanted me to torture you.” Devon laughed in the darkness.
“I wanted to be worthy of you. And I still do.”
Chapter Five
When Friday night came around, I found myself getting ready for another Phi Kappa party; only this time instead of having to be cajoled and persuaded to go to it by my friends. I was excited and even eager to go—and it would just be downstairs from where I was getting ready. Devon took a quick shower and changed, heading downstairs to the main part of the house before I had even gotten out of class to help his frat brothers with setting everything up. It surprised me, how much effort the Phi Kappa guys put into their parties; in some part of my mind I had almost assumed that they simply happened more or less spontaneously.
Instead, the guys were broken up into different groups: a group to go and gather the various forms of alcohol that would be served, a group to hit the local Costco and get snacks and other things for people to eat, a decorating crew, and the people in charge of getting the word out across campus that the party was happening and what time it would start. The level of organization and planning that went into a frat party surprised me, and I almost felt bad as I admitted to Devon that I had had no idea that they put so much work into it. Devon laughed, tousling my hair and giving me a quick kiss. “The whole point is to make it look effortless,” he told me. “So if you never thought that we put any work into it, we were successful.”
I decided that while I wanted to look good—after all, I had Devon’s looks to live up to, as his girlfriend—I didn’t need to go overboard. It was just a party, after all. I took a shower when I got back to the frat from my classes for the day, and went into Devon’s room, picking out a cute dress that came down to a few inches above my knee, with a strappy top to it. I dried my hair quickly, digging my blow dryer out of my suitcase. It was the first time all week I had thought to use it, but I was grateful to have it.
With my dress and hair done, I did my makeup quickly, putting on little more than it would take to emphasize my features: a little blush, a little eye shadow, eye liner and mascara, and a lip stain so I wouldn’t have to worry about re-applying lipstick all night. I put on some stockings and ankle boots and decided that that was perfect. There wasn’t any need for a fancy hairstyle, or an outfit that would call attention to my assets; I already had a date to the party, and I knew who I was going to bed with that night.
I went downstairs just as the music started playing, and wandered around the living room, smiling at the members of the frat who had assembled there. Devon was helping someone finish putting some bunting up, but the moment he was done with that he was at my side, his arm around my waist, kissing me on the cheek. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were out to catch you a guy tonight,” Devon murmured in my ear. I laughed.
“I’m just tr
ying to look good enough to be your girlfriend,” I told him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“Like I said: if I didn’t know better.” Devon grinned at me and kissed me on the lips, his hands wandering over my body just a little bit.
People started to show up, coming into the frat house in pairs and groups, and in what seemed like only a few minutes—though I realized later it was about an hour—the whole frat was packed with people. Some girls I knew had come out to party, and I found myself chatting with them a little bit, though I didn’t leave Devon’s side to do so. Drinks began to flow, and Devon put a cup of punch in my hands, nursing a beer of his own while we wandered around, talking to people and just having a good time.
The experience was so different from the first party I’d come to at the Phi Kappa house, that every so often as the night wore on, I found myself actually surprised that I was in the same place. Where before I’d been left behind by my friends on more than one occasion, this time I was never once alone for the entire night; Devon didn’t act jealous or possessive, but he never wandered from my side, either—and he kept an eye on me even when he was talking to someone else.
The music got louder as more and more people started coming into the party, all of them greeted with a drink of some kind from a toga-clad Phi Kappa guy. Devon led me out onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room and we moved together, laughing and kissing, just as though we’d been dancing together for ages, as if we’d been a couple for years instead of a couple of weeks. I could see the looks of envy from the other girls at the party; whatever hopes they had of attracting his gaze away from me were utterly and completely destroyed, as Devon kept his arms around me, his hands wandering over my body but not quite groping me. We kept dancing until we were both drenched in sweat, moving through one song after another, and I couldn’t remember being happier in my entire life.
When we were both too hot and sweaty to want to keep going, Devon led me into the kitchen and put another drink in my hand, leaning in and kissing me lightly on the lips. “To think,” he murmured in my ear, smiling against my skin. “I thought that it was so cool to party it up as a single guy. Much better this way.” I laughed, giving him a playful shove and barely managing to keep my drink in my cup.
“You met me at the last party,” I told him tartly. “And you had a great time then.” Devon laughed, wrapping his arms around me and holding me close.
“Yeah, well—it’s even better this time, so I don’t see how you can possibly be all offended.” He nipped along the column of my throat, and I nearly dropped my drink, my breath hitching in my throat. Devon pulled back and grabbed my hand, leading me out of the kitchen and into the backyard.
We sat around outside together, sipping our drinks, talking to everyone who came by. Devon made sure that everyone who asked him about the test knew that it was me who was tutoring him, and that—in his opinion at least—I was the best tutor on the planet, the smartest girl he had ever met. The guys on his team, at the party in part to hang out with him and in part because it was a Phi Kappa party, and therefore not to be missed, joked that I would weaken his legs before the championship. No one doubted that Devon would somehow find a way to play for the big game; no one doubted that he would be up to peak still. But in spite of the jokes about me weakening Devon’s legs, everyone on his team seemed glad that I was in Devon’s life. “You know, I think you’ve steadied him a lot, already,” Miles told me, sitting sprawled out on a lounge chair next to the one Devon and I shared.
“She did,” Devon agreed, giving my waist a squeeze. I rolled my eyes.
“I still say that if Devon hadn’t wanted to steady down and focus, I wouldn’t have had such a good influence on him.” Miles shook his head.
“Nah, man. Devon never even thought about settling down and getting serious about life until he met you. It’s all you, girl.” I shook my head at the compliment, but it pleased me nonetheless. I loved that not only had I been accepted as Devon’s girlfriend, but his friends and teammates seemed to all like me. Nobody thought I was doing anything with Devon or to him that he didn’t need, that didn’t benefit him. For the whole night, as the party raged around us, Devon and I were never apart for more than a few minutes; I only ever really left his side to use the bathroom. Even as I talked to people around me, I was aware of him close to me, the fact that he obviously enjoyed me having a good time.
After a while, I had exhausted my interest in talking to anyone else, and Devon and I made our way back inside. For a few minutes, we danced together again, slow and sweet, and I could remember only too well what Devon looked like under his tee shirt and jeans, how it would look when he stripped down. “I think you’re wearing exactly the same thing you were wearing when I met you,” I commented to Devon. Devon chuckled.
“Did you only just notice that?” he asked me, his voice low and almost purring, almost growling in my ear. “You’re slipping, girl.” He kissed me hungrily, moving and swaying in the dance with me even as he did, and after only a few moments I was totally disoriented—but I didn’t care. I could feel the room moving around me with my eyes closed; feel Devon’s hard, muscular body against mine. Everything was exactly the way it should be. I was so happy, so comfortable, so contented.
But we were both so tired that we couldn’t keep dancing for very long; we found a spot on one of the couches that wasn’t stained or splattered with someone’s spilled drink—or, in one case, vomit—and sat down, nursing our last drinks of the night as we looked around the room. Just like the first night when we had met, Devon and I eventually started making fun of some of the drunker people at the party, quietly between ourselves, giggling and chuckling at the antics of the students and frat members. “Oh god, he is just hopeless,” Devon murmured to me, pointing out a guy who was doing his absolute best to try and keep a girl’s attention. The girl in question was absolutely drunk—on the verge of passing out on the shelving unit she had finally sat down on. The girl was so far gone that she couldn’t have noticed the guy even if she had wanted to.
“Oh—oh, look over there,” I said, directing Devon’s attention to a couple who had come in together, and who were now fighting bitterly. Neither Devon nor I could make out what the argument was about, but the girl was waving her hands around, gesticulating wildly, and while her words weren’t clear, she was shouting and shrieking with tones that could bend steel. We cuddled together on the couch, shaking our heads at the drunken antics going on around us. I was tired down to my bones, alcohol buzzing through my brain and making me even sleepier, and as the party began to wind down, it was easier for me to think of just suggesting we go to bed. I had no idea what time it was, but Devon pulled me off of the couch, giving me a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re about to fall asleep—don’t want to do that here. They might draw on you, even with me sitting right there to guard you.” I laughed, shaking my alcohol-fuzzy head, and followed him up the stairs to his bedroom.
“This is like last time, too,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze as we came to Devon’s door. Devon laughed, propelling me ahead of him and closing the door behind us both.
“Except you’re no virgin anymore. And you’re all mine, and I’m all yours.” He wrapped his arms around me tightly and kissed me, finding the zipper on my dress by touch to help me start stripping down. I was too tired to spur him to another session of lovemaking—but I was more than happy to curl up in the bed with him, completely naked under the blankets, and rest my cheek on his chest as sleep overtook me.
Chapter Six
We spent Saturday morning in bed together, cuddling and fooling around, our hands wandering over each other’s bodies as much as we wanted. I had a slight hangover from the night before, but by the time Devon and I both were ready to get out of bed to find something to eat, it had all but evaporated, seemingly melted away under the heat of all the times that Devon got me off—with his fingers, with his mouth, and finally with his cock.
“Hey,” he said, while we
sat at the kitchen table, eating egg sandwiches and hash browns he had made for us. “I was thinking—I know the test is in a couple of days, but I was hoping you’d be okay with skipping our session tonight.” I frowned; the test was on Monday—and while Devon was doing really well, and making great progress, I didn’t like the idea of taking even more of a break; we hadn’t studied the night before, either.
“Why do you want to take another night off?” I asked warily. It was only too easy for me to imagine Devon slipping back into his old ways. Devon grinned.
“Because I have a surprise for you tonight, and I don’t think you’ll want to study during what I have planned.” I worried at my bottom lip, torn between delight at the prospect of a surprise and worry that Devon wouldn’t be prepared enough for the test on Monday. But he had brought his scores up in the individual sections so much on the practice tests; surely one more night—especially if we made it up the next day—wouldn’t be that much of a problem.
“Okay,” I said finally. “But it had better be a big surprise if you think you’re going to justify taking another night off.” Devon laughed.
“Oh, trust me,” he said, grinning his charming little smile. “You’re going to love it so much that you won’t even be able to think about studying.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Devon teased me about the big surprise he had planned for me, giving me hints—that I might want to go back to my dorm just long enough to find something nice to wear, that it was going to be an all-night thing, jokes about what shoes I would wear—until I finally shoved him onto the couch in the living room of the frat house and tickled him relentlessly. “Tell me what it is!” I almost shouted, squirming on top of him to keep Devon from throwing me off. Devon grabbed my hands in his, stilling them, and shook his head, grinning up at me.