Unspoken (The Woodlands)

by Jen Frederick

  I took a deep breath and pushed away from her. Pulling myself out of the car, I stopped for a moment and adjusted myself. AM had gotten out of the car before I could move around to her side.

  “Hey, I get to do that for you,” I protested.

  “What? Open my car door?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her only response was to shrug. We were both at the ends of our ropes, I thought. Maybe tonight was a bad night for anything, even a hookup.

  I walked her to the door and she pulled out her security card. My arm shot out, almost an involuntary reflex, and stopped her before she went inside. “Maybe I could be more than a good time.”

  She hesitated, and I thought for a moment, my heart pounding so loudly that I swear she could hear it, she’d agree.

  “It’s the maybe that scares me,” she said and walked away. The pang I felt was indecipherable. I recognized only that it was strong and connected to AM. She didn’t look back. Not when she got to the interior door and not when she hit the apartment complex hallway. I’m not sure how long I stood there holding the door open, but it was long enough that my fingers turned blue from the cold.

  Until I realized this: she had made the first move.

  AM

  “I NEED A POSTGAME RUNDOWN,” I informed Ellie when we met for lunch again. This time we were having fancy ramen noodles.

  She smiled a bit sheepishly. “I’m just glad we don’t live in the dorms anymore.”

  “Why didn’t you bring him home?”

  “Dunno!” Ellie exclaimed. “Erik went home with someone else, so the room was empty.”

  “Did you do the walk of shame, then?”

  “Nah, I left early in the morning so I could shower and get to class.”

  “So now what?”

  “I’m not sure.” Ellie ran her finger around the top of her glass and looked around our apartment pensively. “He’s not someone I think I can hook up with and then leave behind. He might make a mark.”

  “Would that be so bad?” I asked quietly.

  “I don’t know. What’s stopping you from hooking up with Bo?” she challenged.

  “Me,” I admitted. “I’m afraid that he’s only good for a short-term fling, no matter what he might say in the heat of the moment. You know how attached I get. I don’t think someone gets a crush on Bo Randolph and comes away unscathed.”

  “We’re a couple of sad sacks,” Ellie said. “So what now?”

  “Now I wish I’d switched classes with you in Rocks for Jocks,” I said glumly. “But I guess I’m just going to have to learn to be friends without developing some huge crush on him.”

  “We need condoms for the heart.” Ellie got up and refilled her water bottle.

  “So you aren’t jumping into anything with two feet either,” I said.

  “At least I’m putting my toes in the water.”

  “Traitor,” I mumbled. Because I didn’t want to spend another hour going around and around about why Bo was a bad bet, I left to study in a coffee shop downtown. Only Ellie knew I liked to study there. It was perfect and private and secret.

  Which was why when I arrived there and Bo Randolph was ensconced in one of the chairs, I stood mutely with my mouth agape for a good minute. Perhaps it was only a few seconds, but it felt like a long time. Bo simply sat and smiled at me. I wanted to hit him. No, I wanted to hit Ellie. The only way Bo would have found this spot was with insider knowledge.

  “How’d you get here?” I threw my bag on the floor and dropped into the chair that sat at a right angle to Bo’s. Our legs were far closer than I wanted once I’d sat down, in part because of the chair placement and in part because Bo’s legs were just so damn long.

  “Can I plead the Fifth?” He held up his hands in mock surrender.

  “I actually don’t think this is funny. Are you stalking me?”

  “If I say yes, will you report me to the Honor Code Committee?”

  Again with the flippant response. I had an urge to fling my heavy messenger bag across his face. “Spill.”

  “I saw your roommate earlier today and asked her where you were. She said you’d be studying here.”

  I scowled at him. There was no way Ellie would have revealed my off-campus study place to him based on a simple request.

  “What else?”

  Looking contemplative, he steepled his fingers under his chin as if he were weighing what information to reveal.

  “I want to hear all of it. And if not from you, I’ll get it from Ellie later.”

  Bo sighed and dropped his hands to clasp them loosely between his spread legs.

  “I told her that I needed to see you about an important lab issue and that I wanted to apologize. She said, by the way, to tell you that you need to be more open-minded.”

  Goddammit. Ellie was always trying to meddle, as if she were some kind of hippy fairy godmother or, probably in this case, some kind of Cupid. I needed to talk to her seriously about the Beauty and the Beast folk story where there’s no happy ending and the Beast gets slain by the mob of townspeople.

  “Since I know that what you told Ellie is a lie and you’ve already apologized, what’s your real reason for stalking me?”

  Bo shifted, bringing his one leg closer to mine, and I drew away from him, slipping my legs to the side and moving into the opposite corner of my chair. The recoil was instinctive, but it caused Bo to flinch a bit, his eyes darkening.

  “Do you think I’m going to hurt you?” His voice sounded lower, almost raspy.

  “No, why do you ask?” I lied.

  “You’re about as skittish as a newborn foal.”

  “I’m not an animal, and I’m not afraid of you. You’re just always invading my space.” I had to keep my annoyance levels up because I was doomed if Bo ever figured out how attracted I was to him.

  “I’m not, you know.” Bo shifted again, moving his legs away as much as the small space would allow.

  “Not what?” I was staring at Bo’s legs. Even through the worn denim, you could see his muscular thighs flex as he pushed to give himself more room and to make space for my legs. His hands, which had originally been loosely clasped between his legs, were now resting on said thighs. They were big hands with long fingers. I wondered how they would feel on my face, holding my hand, cupping me around my waist. Safe, I thought. You’d feel safe inside the circumference of his arms. But then I reminded myself that he’d only be good for a roll in the hay one time and then he’d be off to another conquest.

  “What do you want from me, Bo?” His face was unreadable.

  “I like being with you,” Bo admitted. “You keep me occupied.” He tapped his head.

  “We’re always arguing.”

  He waved his hand. “That’s not real arguing. We’re just having fun, and you know it.”

  Reaching across our chairs, he placed one of those large hands on my own. “Don’t be mad at Ellie. She didn’t reveal this information easily.”

  “She still sold me out.” I stared at that hand, wanting to clasp it in return. Instead, I withdrew it. Bo wasn’t going away any time soon, so all I could do was ignore him. I pulled out my textbook and settled in to study, only to be interrupted a few seconds later.

  “You an economics major?”

  I closed my book with deliberate slowness, keeping one hand inside as a bookmark. “Yes.”

  Bo shifted again, the living embodiment of the Newton theory of physics. I looked him over with some thoroughness, taking in his bright blue eyes, down past his muscular chest, to the unopened math book in his lap. He was holding a pen that he flipped through one finger and then under the other, making it dance on his knuckles. Yes, Bo was a body in motion, constantly moving.

  “I bet you drove your Mom crazy.”

  This statement elicited a short laugh. Bo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. It brought his face up close and I could see the long, light-colored eyelashes that framed his upper lids. A scar ran from just under his hairline on
the right down to his temple. I hadn’t seen that before. My fingers itched to trace the path. I pressed my free hand on top of the book, to keep them both trapped. I shouldn’t be touching Bo’s face, ever.

  Here was the secret of Bo’s success. The outward package drew you in and the layered complexities that seemed at odds with his flighty persona kept you engaged. I wanted to pull back those layers to find out what made him tick.

  “I was a troublemaker. I don’t know who was more relieved when I enlisted. My momma or the town.”

  “I’m sure it was neither.”

  Bo opened his mouth as if to disagree and then shut it. “Do you know why I only do hookups?” His sudden change of conversation topics surprised me.

  “No, why?” I sighed.

  “Because relationships require work and introspection. I don’t like to spend time inside my head. It’s not a good place.” He fisted his hands and then splayed them out wide. “All any girl has ever wanted from me is to make them feel good for a short time, and I can do that. I want to do that. I’ve fucking perfected that. But the rest—having something real and lasting in my life? No.”

  “I got that message over dinner. You’re only here for a good time,” I recited. “But you know, Bo, I’ve heard that you put a lot of effort into romancing the girls, if you want to.”

  “What story is this?”

  “That you serenaded a sorority girl last year after winter formal.”

  “Shit, you must be kidding. The guys at home won’t let me open my mouth when the music is on.”

  “So what happened?” I challenged.

  “The TKE winter formal was held at a hotel adjacent to a bar where we were drinking. We kind of crashed it. Adam took one of the band member’s guitars during a break and we all sang along.”

  “What? That wasn’t what I heard at all. That version is pretty lame, if you ask me.”

  He laughed. “Tell me what you heard.”

  “I heard you drove over to the TKE house and played ‘If You Love Me’ on a loop from your convertible until the sorority girl came out, with her white dress billowing behind her. Maybe there was a glass slipper left on the stairs. I can’t remember.”

  Bo was laughing at this. “First, I don’t have a convertible and wow, I sound like a total douche bag. How is this rumor helping my reputation?”

  “It’s not a douche bag move.” I took a sip of my coffee. “It’s totally a Lloyd Dobbler, Say Anything move. John Hughes could have scripted that.”

  “John Hughes?”

  “You know, the moviemaker from the eighties.”

  “You weren’t born in the eighties.”

  “They’re still teen movies!”

  “If I say you’re hot when you’re angry, will you hit me?”

  I motioned that I would throw the cup of coffee in his face, which only made Bo laugh more.

  “Okay, okay. Sorry. Tell me why this is appealing, because it sounds kind of pathetic to me.”

  “I can’t believe you haven’t seen Say Anything.” I shook my head in disbelief.

  “I’m pretty sure I was too busy killing people in Call of Duty to watch that movie.”

  “In Say Anything, Lloyd Dobbler stands outside his love’s window and holds up a boombox that’s playing their song. In the rain. It’s very romantic.” I held up my arms to mimic the gesture.

  He looked at me skeptically.

  “It’s a sign of his true love,” I argued.

  “I think true love is signified by more than some dippy guy standing outside in the rain playing music for a girl.”

  “What’s an act of true love, then?”

  “Throwing your body on a grenade so your buddies don’t become pieces of shrapnelized flesh.”

  “My God, did you do that in the war?” I was shocked. I’d seen Bo without his shirt on and didn’t recall seeing any marks. Maybe I’d been blind? I shuddered at the thought of him being hurt.

  “No,” he sighed, “but I know a guy in a different unit that did.”

  “Okay, but that’s not something you could do for a girl here.” I frowned.

  “True love means that you’d be willing to sacrifice all for another person.” That was pretty profound. Bo believed that?

  “So maybe Lloyd was sacrificing his ego for Dianne in the movie,” I countered.

  “Possibly. Still seems like a passive, weak-ass move.” Bo rubbed a finger across his chin and relaxed back in his chair.

  “What should he have done?”

  “To express his love?”

  “Yes!” I exclaimed, leaning toward him. My hands were planted on my legs and I felt poised to jump him, either in frustration or desire.

  “Actions speak louder than words. Or singing, as the case may be.”

  “He was out there, in the rain.”

  “But he wasn’t doing anything. You show a woman you love her by what you do for her, from opening her door to making sure that bumps in the road of life are smoothed out. That she wants and worries for nothing. That when you think about sex, it’s her face in your fantasies, her body you’re touching, her lips you’re kissing. That every day you remind her that she’s the first thought in your mind when you wake up and the last thought before you drop off to sleep.”

  “Oh.” To hear Bo express something so romantic in his own way made me kind of delirious. I could only manage a sound of acknowledgment. This wasn’t the sentiment of a guy who wanted only a series of emotional physical encounters.

  “Yeah, oh.” Bo straightened in his chair and the humor of the moment seemed like a long distant memory. He held out his hands in supplication. “I’m a bad bet, Sunshine, but if you’re willing to give me a whirl around the ring, I’m yours. Because you’ve got me so twisted up inside that I barely know if up is down. I’m so inside my head that I’m coming out of my asshole. Have mercy on me.”

  I took a shaky breath and stared at him. Maybe he was too good at persuasive speech, but all my reasons for saying no seemed to have evaporated. Right there in the coffeehouse, I melted into him and his arms came crashing around me so tight I thought he might squeeze me until I burst. But what a way to go. His embrace was like being folded against a tree, strong and straight and rooted deep. The winds of winter could buffet us, but Bo would keep me warm and protected.

  “Holy shit, Sunshine. Your hesitation was about two seconds too long,” he breathed into my hair.

  I giggled. “I didn’t even pause.”

  “You did. But that’s okay. I’m going to make it so good for you,” he promised.

  “You better. All those stories you’ve told and I’ve been told about you—they’re giving me big expectations,” I sassed.

  “They were all practice for the real thing. You.”

  “That’s a pretty good line,” I told him, uncertainty creeping in again.

  “I’m going to tell you something.” Bo reassured me, as if sensing I was tottering on the edge again. “I’m scared, too, but neither of us are going to get what we want if we don’t take a chance.”

  “I want to take this chance with you,” I admitted.

  I’d just done either the stupidest thing in my life or the smartest.

  Chapter Eighteen

  AM

  WE DROVE STRAIGHT TO MY apartment for the sole reason that it was closest to us. Bo told me not to talk and to sit on my side of the car with my hands in my lap.

  “If you touch me, I’m pretty sure I’m going to wreck the car,” he explained, after giving me my orders. I didn’t tempt him because I wasn’t sure that if I started, I would care if the car was wrecked.

  Once we were inside my bedroom, his lips were on mine before I could open my mouth. Every kiss I’d experienced before had been innocent compared to this. From the first lick of his tongue against my lips, this kiss conveyed bone-deep want. Bo’s mouth was hot and wet upon mine. He ravaged me, biting and sucking on my lips, his tongue seeking out every crevice and surface until I felt as if he were consuming me. />
  Bo lifted my legs around his hips, and I wrapped myself around him. With one hand under my butt, he used his other to push up my shirt up to expose my bra. The sheer strength it took to hold me up like this took my breath away and shot a bolt of excitement straight to my core. I whimpered with need.

  He shushed me and bent his head to lick between my breasts, pulling down one lacy cup with his teeth to suckle hard on my nipple. I clutched his head to my chest so tightly I was sure I was suffocating him, but I didn’t care. By the way he pressed in tighter, he didn’t seem to mind.

  My legs were splayed open, but I wasn’t getting enough relief. I canted my hips upward and wiggled against him, trying to find relief for the ache between my legs. In answer, Bo’s hand left my breast and went to the juncture of my legs. Through the denim and the lace of my panties, I could feel his hand, but this sensation only made me want a closer, stronger touch. Bo undid my snap and my zipper, grunting his disapproval.

  “You should wear a skirt, always,” he instructed, lowering me onto the bed and pushing my jeans down just far enough so that he could insert his hand between the denim and my flesh. He braced one hand on the side of my head and held his body suspended over mine. I didn’t reply. I was too busy feeling. Feeling his mouth, his stroking tongue. Feeling his hands, his seeking fingers.

  There was only one thought in my mind: How can I get closer to him?. He began rubbing me in circles, and I pushed up against his hand, frustrated by the restraint of my jeans. His fingers dipped inside me, and I couldn’t stop a moan from escaping me. “Oh God. Bo.”

  “I love that you’re so wet for me.”

  I shivered, the pulse of my blood drumming so loudly in my ears I could barely hear him. He pressed the heel of his palm hard against my pelvis bone and his two fingers began a slow thrust inside me. I was dying, one infinitesimal centimeter at a time.

  “So hot. Tight. Can’t fucking wait to be inside you.” Bo’s words were more grunts than complete thoughts. I understood. I had no ability to form complete sentences either. My sole focus was on the slick between my legs caused by the movement of his fingers thrusting in and out and the abrasion of his palm, rough and calloused against my sex. “I want to stay inside you for hours. Live here.”