by Ella Fields
Close by then. “How often do you speak to your mom?” My own said you could tell a lot about a guy by the relationship they had with their parents.
“Never,” he deadpanned.
Shit. Sensitive topic barricade up. “Um, your dad then?”
“At least twice a week.”
I liked that. “Favorite color?”
Laughter and rustling met my ears. “Okay, as much as I love that you’re proving me right. Let’s leave some things a mystery.”
“Why?” I asked. “I like to be aware of things. All the things. It’s just part of how I’m wired.”
A loud breath blew into the phone. “I like that. But let me ask about you. Preferably while in my bed.”
“Nice try.”
Needing a shower and sleep, I went to stand.
“Are you close with your mom?”
Lowering to the floor again, I sighed. “Yeah, pretty close.”
“I can imagine that actually.”
“Do you imagine stuff a lot?”
He coughed. “Oh, you don’t even wanna go there, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? My nose crinkled. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Then Pip it is.” I huffed, and he laughed. “Or Pip-squeak.”
“No, never pip-squeak.”
“Interesting. Favorite movie?”
“Anchorman.”
“What’s your last name?”
“James.”
“Middle name?”
I smiled, enjoying his eagerness. “You haven’t earned the right to know that yet.”
“Fine. Favorite book?”
Book? Curious indeed. “Persuasion.”
“An Austen fan.”
“You’ve read it?” That surprised me in a good way.
“Um, no. But I do know a classic when I hear one.”
I yawned. “I’ve gotta go. I still need to …” I stopped right there, knowing I’d get another sexual innuendo.
“To what?” His voice sounded less groggy now.
“Bed. I need to go to bed.”
Quiet fell. “Sure, okay. What time does your last class finish tomorrow?”
Standing, I looked down the hall to the bathroom, wondering if I should bother washing my hair. “Two. English lit.”
“I’ll meet you.”
That was all he said before hanging up, leaving me to stare dumbly at the screen of my phone.
James. Pippa James.
Anchorman, Persuasion, loves her mom … shit, I didn’t ask about her dad. Idiot. I made a mental note to ask her about him.
Green. Green eyes, brown hair, mint lover, sass talker, sweet cheeked, and mine.
Not yours.
Not yet. Soon, maybe. No, no maybe about it. She’d be mine.
Had she had sex before? Christ, she probably wasn’t a virgin. I cringed at the thought.
She was on Instagram. She didn’t use it much, but she used it more than Facebook. She hardly ever posted there, which was a relief. I fucking loathed Facebook. Not that Instagram was much better, but I could deal. Everyone had their somethings.
No Twitter. Another bonus. The fuck was tweeting anyway?
So I knew I was stalking. I knew it and didn’t really care. I couldn’t stop this, and I didn’t think I wanted to. No, I definitely didn’t want to.
“Hawthorne!”
Seven hours. I’d see her in exactly seven hours. I wondered what she’d wear. What the fuck would I wear? Why did I give a shit? I gave plenty of shit, sure. But never about what girls thought of my wardrobe choices.
She was different somehow. Didn’t know why. Just knew it. Like an uppercut to the jaw. Smacked the fuck out.
She’d hardly touched me, yet she’d hit me harder than I’d ever been hit before.
“Hawthorne! Get over here now before I send recruits to drag your ass in.”
I shook my head, glancing at Coach across the field. God damn. Everyone else was gone. How long had I been doing laps out here on my own?
Something soured in my gut, and I decreased my pace to a slow jog until I stopped in front of Coach. Blowing out heavy breaths, I started stretching. “Sorry, lost track of time.”
The look on his face would’ve sent my heart racing had it not already been. Any faster and it’d probably give out. “You doing okay?”
“Fine.” Swallowing and stretching my hamstrings, I lied, “Just felt like I could go a little longer.”
“Class is already starting. I only realized you were still out here thanks to Mike.”
Fucking Mike. The guy wouldn’t have told Coach Lawson to be a dick, but still, didn’t he realize I was skating on razor-thin ice here? The good news was, less time until I saw Pippa than I realized.
“Won’t do it again. Better hit the showers real quick.” I didn’t look at Coach, and he didn’t say anything else as I raced off the field for the gym.
Once under the hot stream of water, I let out a sigh that seemed to rattle my bones. As though they were made of toothpicks and would collapse with too heavy an inhalation. Hearing my heartbeat in my ears, and my blood rushing throughout my veins, I remembered the way Pippa said the words, wanna fuck?
Everyone was long gone, but I glanced around to make sure before wrapping a hand around myself. I pictured her on her back, spread out before me, her hair spilling over the sheets and pillows of my bed. Groaning quietly, I squeezed and pumped faster, thinking about how she’d pant.
She was a panter and a curser, I’d bet. I just fucking knew it. I’d make her watch as I played with her. Make her wait as I ate her. And then … only after I’d tortured her and she couldn’t take anymore, I’d slide between her legs. Sans condom. I’d feel her heat around me, tightening, twitching, and her soft cries and breathy exhalations filling the room and my mouth.
My free hand slapped against the white tile as I pumped ribbons of white milk from my cock. With my chest heaving, I watched as they fell into the water pooling around my ankles before swirling into the drain.
My mind instantly quieted, I finished showering and got dressed.
I skipped biology. Didn’t matter. I’d catch up from Quinn’s notes.
The problem with that was I was half an hour early, and still, I sat on the bench outside the English building and waited.
My feet bounced, and to distract myself, I pulled out my phone and played Words with Friends. My dad was online. Oh well. Hopefully, he didn’t know my schedule.
I laughed then because who was I kidding. He knew.
He started a game with me and didn’t say a word, though.
Some days, I felt like the luckiest kid alive. My dad was an accountant and also the one person who might’ve known me better than myself. A fact I both loathed and appreciated at the same time.
“Stale,” her voice came from behind me.
My chest constricted, and I sent a quick goodbye message to my dad before tucking my phone away.
Pippa took a seat next to me. She was wearing jeans, dark blue with tears in the knees, and a red Coca-Cola t-shirt. Her hair was up today, piled into a high ponytail at the very top of her head, falling to her shoulders like a brown soda fountain.
“You play?” I turned, mirroring the way she sat, straddling the bench.
She put her bag down and pulled out her phone, flashing me a quick glance at the apps. Most of them were word search games or similar. I smiled but held back the urge to take her phone and search it. Too invasive, yes. Yet the urge was strong.
When she leaned in closer, inspecting me with a frown, I got a whiff of her perfume. Or maybe it was her shampoo. She was about to say something when I blurted, “Is that peppermint?”
Her blush was faint, but it was there. “Yeah, I like mint.”
“I know. I mean your …” I waved at her hair, feeling kind of embarrassed.
“Hair, yes.” A tiny laugh slipped out of her, and then she snorted, making me grin. “Um, tea tree mint shampoo.”
Tea tree mint.
“You alr
eady finished class for the day?”
Blinking, I blew out a breath. Focus, asshole. “Yeah, I already have. Wanna go somewhere?”
Watching as she glanced around, I waited for her gaze to return to me. When it did, she shrugged, tossing her bag to the grass. “Nah, here’s good.”
“Here’s good,” I whispered, and she tilted her head, studying me.
“You okay?”
“More than okay.” I smiled genuinely, reaching out to tug on a lock of her hair. “Are you okay?” I asked to be a smartass.
Her smile was like a kick to the chest, her lips curving higher on one side. “More than okay.”
I did wonder, though. “Do you have some kind of aversion to hanging out at my place?”
Her pinched lips were adorable. “No. But I do have an aversion to assholes who break my friend’s heart.”
Shit. Yeah, right. I scratched my brow. “For what it’s worth, he really is a good guy.”
Her button nose scrunched, and I reached over to grab it, making her laugh as she batted my hand away. I caught her wrist, dragging her closer to me until our knees touched and I could make out four faint freckles across her nose.
Her eyes widened, her dark lashes dipping as her gaze darted from mine to my mouth and back again. My stomach tightened with how much I wanted to kiss her. Kissing wasn’t usually my favorite part of foreplay. I preferred a woman’s lips around my shaft. But Pippa’s, those two pink plump lips—they needed to say hello to mine like yesterday.
“Let me touch your lips with mine.”
Surprisingly, she didn’t protest, just exhaled a light breath that ghosted over my lips and chin. Her breath was minty, and I leaned forward slowly, giving her a chance to back away while praying to every god that ever existed she wouldn’t.
Her lashes fluttered even more, and my hand found her cheek, my thumb running over the curve gently, memorizing it. “Why am I letting this happen?” she asked, our lips a hairsbreadth apart.
“Because it’s supposed to.”
She closed the gap, her hands lifting to my hair at the same time her lips landed on mine.
It was sensory explosion, and my eyes shut. Even though I was dying to watch her, I couldn’t fucking handle it.
At the soft whisper of her bottom lip against my top one, shadows that once danced behind my eyelids fled, making way for rainbows of blinding light.
My other hand moved, gripping the side of her head as I parted her lips with mine, craving the velvety feel of her tongue. My dick throbbed as her tongue slid across mine.
She was soft, hesitant, and I wanted to let her explore, but my urge to devour her took over, making my teeth catch her lip to drag it inside my mouth. “Since when did kissing become so fucking good?” I mumbled into her parted lips.
Her laugh was more of a gusty breath, and I inhaled it, shivers coasting down my spine when her nails ran along my scalp.
A piercing whistle had Pippa freezing. “Get it, Hawthorne!”
Growling low in my chest when she pulled away, I stared death at Ed as he walked by with his arm slung around some chick’s shoulders. He rotated his hips, and I flipped him off before grabbing Pippa around the waist and hauling her closer until she was almost straddling me.
“Toby.” She pushed at my chest, then her hands stopped and began rubbing as her eyes clouded over. “Shit, you’re like fucking concrete.”
Grinning would’ve made me look like a conceited dick, but fuck, I couldn’t hold it back. She slapped my chest, and I said, “Say it again.”
“Fucking?” she said without pause.
Pushing on her hips, I held her down, making sure she felt what that did to me. Her head ducked, and the bashful look on her face made my heart feel weird. Like someone had brushed a furry blanket across its exterior, making it hum in contentment.
More pieces clicked together then. She might’ve played a hard game, but it was all a pretense to hide her lack of confidence in that department.
A department I hoped with everything in me we could explore soon.
“More,” I said, tipping her chin up to meet my eyes.
The connection shot fire through my overheated veins, and even though I wanted her lips on mine again, I couldn’t move if I tried.
“More what?”
“Don’t play coy,” I said, a strange husk to my voice.
“You know what?” She leaned forward, and without breaking eye contact, she touched her nose to mine. “I think you should buy me something to eat first. I’ve gotta work in an hour.”
“Then more?” Wait … “What? Work?”
“Yeah, that thing people do to earn money.”
I squeezed her hips. “Smartass. Where do you work?” I couldn’t help it. I didn’t like the idea of something intruding on my time with her.
“The ice-cream parlor.”
I heaved out a dramatic sigh. “Okay. Food. Then more?”
She pecked me. Pecked me like she was a fucking bird teasing a lion. “Maybe.”
Grateful that I got to spend more time with her at least, I let her attempt to pull me up from the bench, her laughter filling unknown cracks inside me as she tried.
She didn’t know, and how could she?
I wanted it all. And this lion wasn’t usually a patient one. That was, not unless he knew he’d win in the end.
“What are you majoring in?” His fingers twirled with mine on the table after we’d finished our burgers. He liked to touch. Constantly. But I was fine with that. Especially seeing as it distracted me from looking at his lips, or from touching my own.
My thumb itched to trace the memory while my lips grew dry with wanting more.
When our banana split arrived, I grabbed a spoon with my free hand, which was my left. I was right handed, so it wasn’t smooth sailing.
Toby laughed, reaching over to swipe some ice cream from my chin with his thumb. Sucking it from his thick digit, he raised his brows, and I realized I’d been caught staring. Not caring, I tilted a shoulder and scooped some more ice cream onto the spoon. He took it from me, delivering it to his mouth.
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Isn’t that predictable?”
His lips tugged side to side as he no doubt swished the creamy goodness around his mouth. I watched, transfixed. Never before had I wished to become a dessert. I guess there was a first time for everything.
“Not predictable at all. That’s the beauty of it.”
I could see his logic. Kind of. “What about you?” I was about to ask what his backup plan was but knew that might not be a smart thing to do with a football player.
“If I don’t get drafted, you mean?”
I nodded, and he poked me between my eyes. “Never be afraid to ask me something.”
Ha. “You might regret saying that.”
“Doubtful. You can ask. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer, but you can always ask.”
“So?” I said. “What will you do if you don’t get drafted?”
He mulled it over for a long minute as though he’d never thought much about the possibility before. Picking up the spoon again, he lifted it to my mouth, watching intently as my lips wrapped around it. “Those who can’t do, teach, right?” I scowled, pushing the spoon away. He chuckled lightly. “What?”
“That’s an awesome attitude right there, Tobes.”
“Not an attitude. Just stating what I believe to be true.”
Looking at him long and hard, I watched as he shoveled more ice cream into his mouth. I was starting to think he wasn’t exactly the happy-go-lucky guy I’d met almost two weeks ago.
There was more to him, which I liked—despite the cynical attitude. I wasn’t about to run out of there as if he’d started a fire I didn’t want to be around. He was entitled to his opinions. Jaded as they might be.
I had plenty of my own, so I wasn’t one to judge too harshly.
“Teaching then,” I went on. Or tried to. The spoon came at my mouth, and I reluctantly opened, ignoring th
e heated look in his eyes. “Trying to shut me up?”
He brought the spoon to his mouth, sucking the residue off and holding every part of me captive. “I could listen to you talk about dog shit and do it with a smile on my face. So no, I just have no idea what I’d do.” He shrugged, dragging his eyes over the few customers seated near us in the diner. “I really don’t.”
That maybe should’ve alarmed me. Everyone needed a backup plan. Again, I couldn’t talk. I had no idea what I was doing, but I wasn’t pegging all my hopes and dreams on one thing.
“Do most athletes create a backup plan? There’s gotta be something else you might be interested in.”
His expression turned unreadable, but after a long second, he smiled. “Oh, plenty of other things I’m interested in.”
He grabbed my hand, bringing my fingers to his mouth and nipping the tip of my pointer finger. Laughing, I tried to yank it free, but he pulled me to him, murmuring, “I’m interested in you. Very interested.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“A million oh yeahs. In case you haven’t noticed.”
I could feel my cheeks tint. Then his lips were on mine and ridding any and all of my thoughts.
Pulling away, he asked, “What are you interested in?”
I blew a piece of hair out of my face, slumping against the back of the booth. “That’s a hard one.” He narrowed his eyes, and I grinned. “I’m not inflating that ego of yours. You already know why I’m sitting here.”
Scratching the bridge of his slightly crooked nose, he asked, “No really, what can you see yourself doing?”
Still staring at his nose, I blinked a few times, trying to think about it. “I really don’t know. Nursing, maybe. Helping people in some way. Other than that, I have no idea. I just know that I can’t see myself sitting stagnant in an office.” His finger traced over the top of mine, his gaze steady on my face. “I need to be doing something. Not only to keep busy but also something worthwhile.”
He didn’t blink for half a minute, his stare dropping to our hands as his finger curled around mine. “Whatever you do, you’re going to make it your bitch.”
“Yeah?”
Releasing my finger, he dipped his into the ice cream. “A million oh yeahs.”