by Hazel Kelly
Or at least, that’s what it felt like in my guts.
“Great shot,” he said, stepping back over to his side of the invisible line between us, the invisible line I’d blindly leaped across in my excitement. “We’re in with a real chance now.”
“I can’t take any of the credit. You did most of the heavy lifting.”
“Are you kidding?” he asked. “After that performance, you’re going to be the only chick in the top ten.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I’m a chick now, am I?”
“I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”
The thought crossed my mind that my parents would be so thrilled at how well we played together, but it was immediately followed by the sad realization that that was exactly what we’d been doing. Playing. At something we weren’t. At something we couldn’t be.
“You hungry?” he asked.
My eyes grew wide. “Starving.”
He smiled.
My athletic knees turned to jelly.
“Let’s grab a bite while we wait for the results to roll in.”
“Sounds good,” I said, heading towards the barbeque area, which was framed by white lanterns hanging in the trees. “Now that I can smell the food, I think we’re probably eating just in time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I frolfed enough that I’d like to skip the yolfing this year.”
“Same,” he said. “You want to get drinks while I get food, and we’ll reconvene by that silver birch?”
I looked in the direction he was pointing and agreed before peeling off towards a metal rowboat that was packed full of ice and cheap canned beer. After managing to stuff two cans in my purse, I grabbed one icy can in each fist and made a beeline for the tree on the hill.
It was a particularly interesting tree as two trunks had split from each other a few feet off the ground before coming together again. The gap in the middle wasn’t wide enough to climb through, but I found myself wondering what brought the trees back together and what drove them apart in the first place.
By the time I got settled in the thick grass near the base of it, Logan was making his way across the field with two plates, oblivious to the clustering sorority girls eyeing him like he was a two-for-one deal at their favorite tanning salon.
Suddenly I wished he had more than a number on his back. Like a big neon sign that flashed I Love Zoey Petersen on it twenty-four-seven.
I recalled the joy I felt as a teenager the first night sparks flew between us at a house party. Talking to him filled me with so many warm butterflies I thought I might float away. Unfortunately, my memory of that night didn’t end there.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget the emptiness I felt hours later when I couldn’t find him- or Piper- anywhere downstairs. It was like my voice box had been ripped out. Like I wanted to scream but couldn’t.
That was sort of how it felt every day after that, too, regardless of whether or not they were going through a rough patch. It was supposed to be me, I wanted to tell her. You stole him out from under me… Before he ever even had a chance to be under me!
I shook the thought from my head and smiled as he approached, reminding myself that the past didn’t matter now. Besides, the only acceptable reason to wish they never hooked up was because they both ultimately got hurt, not because there might’ve been something in it for me. That was cruel and stupid.
“I want you to know if it were anyone else, I would’ve already scarfed these burgers and gotten in line for two more.” Logan dropped to his knees in the grass and laid the paper plates down carefully.
“You’re selling yourself short,” I said. “You’re more of a team player than that.”
He feigned a look of panic. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? You’ll ruin my reputation.”
I laughed. “What reputation? You’re too much of a broody loner to get a reputation.”
“First of all, that’s not true. Anyone on a college campus can get a reputation for just about anything. Doesn’t even have to be based on reality.”
“Noted.” I took a big bite and hoped he would continue.
“And second of all, why is everyone always accusing me of brooding? I don’t brood, for chrisssakes.”
“You must be doing something with all that time you spend alone.”
He chewed his enormous man bite and swallowed quickly. “I’m not brooding, I can tell you that.”
“So what are you doing then?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged and eyed his next bite. “Whittling. Studying. Jerking off.”
I choked on my beer and bubbles fizzed up my nose.
He seemed amused, but it was hard to tell through my watering eyes. “You okay?”
I nodded and held a napkin over my nose and mouth.
“Are you choking?” His expression filled with concern.
I shook my head. “Fine,” I croaked.
He took another bite and looked out across the field.
I wondered if he felt as drunk as I did. He certainly didn’t seem it, but considering twilight was still hanging in the sky, I was definitely ahead of schedule. Then again, I suppose I had kicked things off aggressively with those vodka shots at four. Speaking of which, how long had it been since I’d seen Nina? “Is that what you were doing yesterday?”
“Excuse me?”
“When you said you had a thing?”
He furrowed his brow at me. “Are you asking if I blew you off so I could be alone with my dick?”
“Is that so crazy?”
“Yes,” he said. “That is so crazy.”
“Right.”
Silence hung between us for some time, and I spent most of it wondering what Logan’s dick looked like in his hand, what he thought about when he was stroking it, how hard he squeezed while he was doing it. I’d heard rumors it was sort of a violent activity. Not tender and contained like when I touched myself.
“I have a little brother,” he said finally. “He’s ten.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“It’s a figurative relationship,” he said. “But we try to hang out once a month.”
“Like a volunteering thing?”
“I guess.”
“You guess?”
He took a sip from his can. “I mean it started that way, but now I don’t see it like that.”
“What do you see it as?”
“Not charity.”
I leaned my head forward so he would know I was awaiting further explanation.
“He’s a good kid, and he seems to appreciate my company, so I make time for him.”
“That’s nice.”
“It is, yeah.”
“I suppose you would’ve liked a role model when you were his age.”
He looked at me, and something in his eyes softened. “Thanks.”
“For what?” I asked, noticing a tiny speck of ketchup on his cheek.
“For getting it.”
“You have a little something-” I scratched my cheek where he had the rogue blob.
He dragged a finger across his face. “Did I get it?”
I shook my head.
“How about now?” he asked, trying again.
“Do you want me to just get it?”
He leaned close, and I wiped my napkin down the side of his chiseled face.
“Thanks,” he said, looking at me. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and I pursed my lips, causing him to find my eyes again.
“For what?”
“For making me look good,” he said. “For always having my back.”
I’d like to have your front, too. And both sides while I’m at it. I’d settle for the time with him, though, if it was all I could get. Then again, what if the reason it was all I’d ever gotten was because I settled for it?
What if I decided to settle for more?
Was that even possible?
It was hard to guess. All I knew was that every time his eyes fell to my lips, my stomach flipped i
nside out, and everything but us faded away.
If only I could stay in that place, alone with him.
Who knows what might happen?
T W E N T Y
- Logan -
“Are you sure you don’t want to head to the afterparty?” Zoey asked, her sandaled feet scuffing the sidewalk. “I know my way back.”
“I said I’d walk you home. I’m walking you home,” I said, wishing she would stop making such a big deal about it. “If I wanted to be somewhere else, I would be.”
“Right.”
When we reached the next intersection, which was deserted apart from two wasted guys passing a plastic bottle full of piss-colored god-knows-what between them, she hugged herself and rubbed her arms.
“Here,” I said, taking my flannel off.
“That’s not necessary,” she said, holding up a hand. “It’s only a few more blocks.”
“I insist.”
She put it on and scrunched up the long sleeves, a shy smile lifting her cheeks. “Thanks.”
She looked so fuckable in my shirt that I had to look away, clench my teeth, and fill my lungs with a deep breath that I hoped might cleanse my mind of its dirty thoughts.
“We made a good team tonight, don’t you think?”
“Of course,” I said. “And you should be proud. As far as I know, you’re the first chick who’s ever finished in the top ten.”
“Are you suggesting girls can’t frolf as well as boys?”
“I’m suggesting that Frolf Till You Yolf is more popular with a particularly competitive group of guys.”
She eyed me skeptically, but her pink cheeks undermined her half-assed scowl.
“Maybe getting more girls involved is a good idea, though. There was considerably less yolfing this year than last year.”
She laughed. “What was that whole dispute over the winners about?”
I strolled along beside her, charmed by the leisurely pace she was setting. Maybe she didn’t want the night to end either. “Some of the guys don’t think Carter should’ve been allowed to team up with his brother.”
“Wasn’t everyone teamed up with a brother?”
“Yeah, but Kellan is his actual older brother. He was in the house as an undergrad.”
“So?”
“So he’s practically a professor here now.”
“They totally out-frolfed everyone though.”
“They certainly did,” I said. “And I hope they enjoy their prize, because I’ll be shocked if there’s not a rule that keeps Kellan from competing next year.”
“Frat politics, eh?”
I shrugged. “If your definition of politics is a bunch of idiots shouting at each other about stuff that doesn’t matter.”
She squinted at the sky. “That’s probably not far off my definition.”
The way her hair was tumbling over the shoulders of my shirt was doing things to me. What I wouldn’t give to brush it back with my hand and tilt her chin up, to hear the soft hitch of her breath between her parted lips before I bent down to taste them. Did she want that, too?
I knew she was too innocent to ask for it, especially considering the circumstances. The only way to test the waters would be to make a move and see what happened. But I had enough experience to know one move could change everything.
If I made my desires known, we wouldn’t be able to swim in subtlety anymore. If I stirred the hot pot of sexual tension we were stewing in, there would be no way back.
“You okay?” Zoey asked as we crossed the street to her building. “You’ve gone all quiet.”
We walked on opposite sides of a car parked in the lot, and by the time I saw her again, my heart was pounding with anticipation.
“Logan.” She stuck a hand out and touched my arm, setting off warm sparks that ran up the back of my neck. “What’s wrong?”
My head was reeling from the sound of my name in her mouth as she followed me between two tall SUVs.
“Hey-”
I turned around so fast she nearly slammed into me. “It’s just a little confusing, don’t you think?”
She looked up at me with furrowed brows. “What?”
“It’s been a while since I was in this situation.”
Her eyes searched mine.
“But I gave you my shirt.” I grabbed the loose sides of it and backed her up against the black SUV. “And I walked you home.” Her chest rose and fell between us, and her breath was suddenly the only sound I could hear. “Kinda feels like I ought to kiss you goodnight.” I slid my hands around her hips, dragging them up her gorgeous figure until my fingers reached the bare skin above her waistband.
Her breath hitched.
I circled my thumbs over her hip bones and stared at her fat bottom lip.
“Logan,” she whispered.
Her skin was smooth and warm, and holding her naked waist felt intense in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
She dropped her head back against the car window, her delicate neck catching the light of a nearby streetlamp. “You’re doing things to me.”
“No,” I said, sinking my fingertips into her soft body and squeezing her less hard than I wanted to, than I needed to. With any other girl, it wouldn’t even count as a base, but having my hands on her was turning me on like nothing ever had before.
“You are.”
I dropped my forehead against hers, our warm breath mingling in the cool night air. “This is nothing compared to what I want to do.” Her lips were so close to mine, and they looked so delicious, but they glistened with the allure of forbidden fruit, making me as afraid to taste them as I was eager.
“What are you doing?” she breathed.
“Why?” My fingertips glided up her stomach and traced the bottom edge of her bra. “Is it bothering you?”
“No, but it’s making me…”
I lifted my head and watched her expression flicker as I dragged my hands down again and dipped my fingers beneath her waistband. “What?”
“You know.”
I clenched my jaw. “Say it.”
“Wet,” she whispered, as if she were embarrassed.
A deep growl rumbled up my throat as my cock strained against my zipper.
“Is that what you want?” she asked.
I exhaled. “I can’t tell you what I want.”
“Tell me,” she pleaded, her back arching slightly as if she couldn’t help but lean in to my touch. “Please.”
I was so fixated on her mouth my own began to water. “Are you sure you want to know?”
She nodded. “Tell me.”
I lifted my eyes to hers. “I want you to take off everything except my shirt, and I want to watch you touch yourself until you come.”
She swallowed.
“Until you’re way past wet.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said, her breathing labored. “I don’t believe you want me like that.”
“No?” I inched closer and pulled her body against my hard-on. “Do you believe that?”
She inhaled sharply, and her eyes grew wide.
I took her hand and pressed it to me, holding her palm against my solid length. “See? You do things to me, too.”
She dropped her gaze, and her lashes fluttered against her cheeks as she bent her fingers around me so gently it felt more torturous than good. When she lifted her eyes again, they were dark and drunk with temptation.
A moment later, the sharp double-beep of a car unlocking across the lot caused us both to flinch, and the familiar banter of a few students going on a late-night beer run filled the air.
Zoey dropped her hand and gasped for breath as if she’d been underwater. “I’m flattered, Logan,” she said, blinking the darkness from her eyes. “But I think I’m going to call it a night.”
My heart shattered.
“It’s nothing you did wrong, though, okay? It’s me. Not you.” She put her hands on my shoulders, rose up on her tippy toes, and kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks again for a lo
vely day and for walking me home.”
I was too shocked to even say anything.
“Goodnight,” she said, fleeing towards the entrance of her building.
But all I could think was, no, not really.
T W E N T Y O N E
- Zoey -
I was consumed with guilt for days.
Sure, I’d felt guilty before, but it was only ever for little things like hiding stuff from my siblings or sharing homework with Piper so we could get to more important things, like binge-watching Game of Thrones.
But this was a whole new level of mental illness.
I felt guilty about my parents, who’d trusted me to welcome Logan into our family and make him comfortable… not hard. Not horny. Just comfortable. Just wanted in a non-sexual way.
I felt guilty about Piper. Crushing on Logan when they were dating was one thing, but my crush didn’t seem so harmless now that I’d gotten wet from his touch, now that I’d let him run his fingers over my skin until my guts turned inside out and my mind melted.
Granted, my regret about that seemed somewhat unfair because I knew Piper would never shy away from a situation like that. If she felt good about something, she wouldn’t stop to give a single shit about how it might affect anyone else. And I’m not talking smack. She’s fully aware that she’s like that. It’s one of the reasons she was so terrified of becoming a mom. Because she’s selfish, even if it is in a way that I’ve always found totally inspiring and educational.
Worse than that, though, I felt guilty for the person I’d become, a person who seemed hell-bent on depriving herself of pleasure and happiness and arousal. Honestly, if I was going to keep this up, there was no point in even staying in college. The only way I was ever going to command any self-respect would be to embrace the chaste lifestyle of the nun I was bound to become anyway.
Obviously, it might be challenging with my secular upbringing to break into that space, but the great thing about believing in God is that no one is culturally allowed to question it or request an explanation for why you have the faith you claim to have. Unfortunately, now that I think about it, dedicating my life to religious devotion might really upset my parents, who always insisted prayer was a waste of time and the only angels that were relevant were those that chose to serve- through actions- in the one life we’re all given.