by Eliza Park
I rubbed a hand over my face, nervous, “Would it have made a difference?”
“Probably not, but it’s a whole part of my life that’s been kept secret. I deserved to know I had a family.”
“I’m sorry, Ace,” I muttered.
“Let’s talking about something else,” she said, shifting.
I’d lost my chance, let the moment go without jumping in, and guilt brewed in my abdomen. “Like what?”
“Where did Mia fall into that lineup?”
The question surprised me and then made me just a tad nervous, but I was already keeping so much from Celeste, I didn’t see any point in hiding this, “First one after you.”
“Were you an asshole to her?”
I shrugged, “Not at first, but as her crazy grew I didn’t really have a choice. Seemed to make her want me more.”
Celeste’s eyes focused on the screen for a moment, lost in thought. “What do you mean by crazy?”
I tapped my fingers on the arm of the chair and her eyes followed the motion. “We agreed in the beginning to keep things casual, but she started to get clingy, and I mean really clingy. She showed up to my classes, practices, dorm room. I tried asking her to politely back off, and she agreed initially, but it kept getting worse…” Celeste was watching me carefully, curiosity in that green gaze. I cleared my throat and tried not to look too uncomfortable, “Before the end of the first semester,” Her features fell, eyes on her hands as I continued, “She really started to lose her shit and I basically told her to fuck off.” I straightened then, shrugging, “She came back around the next year, after I’d started sleeping around, and kept offering herself up in all of these weird situations. Orgies and threesomes and shit.”
Celeste’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open slightly, “You were in an orgy?”
“No,” I said hastily, “No, I’m definitely a one woman at a time kind of guy.”
“Good to know,” she said, sarcasm dripping from every word.
“You jealous, Ace?”
Her answering smile made me weak in the knees, “I am. That okay?”
“Guess I’ll have to get used to it.”
“Guess so.”
We stared at each other for a long moment and my dick grew harder with each passing second. All fucking day I wanted to taste her, listen to those moans. I was getting desperate, hungry, and we’d only been back together for a couple of days.
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on my knees, “Can I ask you something?” I said, realizing my voice was an octave deeper. Since talking to her a few days ago, this one answer was something I’d thought of a lot.
She tilted her head to the side curiously, blonde hair falling in a perfect curtain.
“How much of our time together do you remember now?”
Her bottom lip stuck out for a moment, “Almost all of it, I think. Why?”
“Do you remember me telling you that I loved you?”
She smiled, green eyes glittering, “Which time?”
Fuck.
“The first time.”
“The same week we were in the Maldives, right?” She asked.
I ran a hand through my hair, letting out a slow breath and sitting back against the chair, “Was that the first time?”
She bit her lip, grinning broadly, “Yeah, I was sober, actually, but you were tipsy. You’d gone swimming in the ocean and came back to lay down on top of me soaking wet, and that’s when you said it.”
I was remembering it now. The bright, hot sun, the humidity sucking all the oxygen out of the air. The way she looked in that fucking bikini, lounging sleepily on the beach, skin turning bronze. I remembered her laughter in my ear, how she hadn’t complained that I was getting her wet, how warm her body felt under mine. I’d kissed her and rolled onto the hot sand, holding her skinny body above mine.
I love you.
And she’d laughed, slapped me on the chest playfully and stood to collect her things. I’d just laid there, baking under the angry rays, watching her ass float away in my memory.
“I’m sorry, Mav,” she said then, bringing me back into the present. “I really do wish I could take it back.”
I lifted myself off of the chair and moved over to the couch, bending to crawl over her body slowly. The memory was fresh, and I marveled at how differently her body would look in that same bikini today. It wouldn’t be publicly indecent, that’s for fucking sure. She laid back against the couch, her head resting on the armchair, green eyes watching me.
“We just have a lot of time to make up for, is all,” I said, fitting my mouth to those pouty pink lips. She tasted so sweet, her lips the smoothest silk as they moved against mine. I kept kissing her, hiking one leg up over my hips and running my hand up her thigh. Her arms linked behind my neck and she shifted beneath me, stirring the lust building in my abdomen. We made out like that for a long time, my tongue eventually exploring the inside of her mouth, a hand under her shirt that went no further north than her ribs. I got lost in the feeling of her under me, wanting to know what it felt like to have those naked tits pressed against my chest, hear her cry my name in ecstasy.
When I could hardly take any more, I pulled back, satisfied at the breathless, pink-cheeked sight before me. Her eyes were clear and wide, a grassy green.
“Bed?” She asked, her voice thick.
I moved off of her, holding out a hand to help her up. “Absolutely, but I’m going to need you not to wear that shit you were earlier.”
She smirked, her hips rhythmic as she walked into her bedroom. I followed, pulling off my shirt and stepping out of my jeans, turning away but listening closely to the sound of fabric hitting her hamper, the shifting of drawers, trying to keep the image of her naked body from my mind. I hadn’t seen her completely undressed yet, just mostly but I knew the second her panties were on the floor we would have a problem. I fantasized about tasting her, in more ways than one, and the real thing would have me weaker than shit.
I felt her presence on the other side of the bed and chanced a look over my shoulder. She was standing there in an oversized white t-shirt, tugging on the hem with her fingers, hair draped over one shoulder, biting that fucking lip.
It took me a second to regain my senses, and when I did, my eyes narrowed in on the shirt and faded letters scrawled across the front. I felt my eyes widen in surprise.
She was wearing my fucking t-shirt.
Celeste looked embarrassed, “You left it behind and I kind of kept it.”
“I can see that,” I managed, my throat thick with…something. Love? Lust? Surprise? I walked around the large bed, my eyes never leaving hers, and took her up in my arms, kissing her with a little more feeling this time. She moaned into my mouth and I lifted her up, setting her gently down on the bed and climbing in on top of her. She’d taken off her bra, and I could feel those hard nipples pressing through her shirt.
“This is almost worse, you know,” I mumbled against her lips.
“What?” She panted.
“You in my shirt, it’s way sexier than any shit you could find at a store.” I dove into her again, pressing my pelvis between her hips, “I can’t believe you kept it this long.”
I was surging with need and my dick was pointing the way, trying to break out of my boxers and find some release. Her hands traced down my chest and before I could stop her, they dipped under the band of my boxers and wrapped around my cock. I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut and taking a deep breath. I pulled back to look at her, to try to convince her to let me go even though I desperately didn’t want to. She sat up, her teeth sinking into my bottom lip as she moved her hand up and down my shaft.
“You were right, Cap, you are bigger,” she whispered, green eyes flashing mischievously.
“You keep doing that, Celeste, and we’re going to have some real issues in a minute.”
She licked at my lips, “Only a minute? Jeez, I thought you had more resilience than that.”
I wanted to growl,
show her just exactly how much fucking resilience I had, but needed every extra ounce of energy. Her movement increased and I tried to tell myself to hold still, to keep from thrusting into her palm. I was sweating with the effort, groaning into her neck like the weak man I was.
Her thumb ran over the tip of my dick, spreading pre-cum in a circle, and I bit into the pillow behind her ear. I needed to pull away or I was going to blow my load all over her hand, or worse, take her before either of us was ready.
Using strength I didn’t think I had, I rolled off of her and onto my back, grabbing her wrist in my hand and waiting for her to give me some pity and let go.
She did and I snapped the waistband of my boxers back in place, holding her wrist firmly in case she tried some shit like that again. I took a few deep breaths, my other arm over my eyes.
I was going to die before I ever had the chance to fuck her.
I could feel her watching me, and let out a whoosh of air, “Tell me something,” I said, my voice like gravel.
“Like what?”
“Anything, literally anything. Preferably something extremely nonsexual and boring.”
“Um, okay, I have twenty-three cousins.”
“That’s a lot of cousins.”
“Yeah, a few of them are my age too. Janey, you know Janey, she actually goes to Colombia.”
“Good school,” I managed.
“She’s pre-med, wants to be a doctor, save the world. She has crazy taste in music and wears a lot of black, and these super clunky combat boots, but she’s also kind of a hippie.”
I chuckled, “A hippie in combat boots.”
“Yeah, vegan hippie in combat boots. Drives my grandparents crazy with all her ranting, but they support her and lover her like crazy.”
“She drove Brody nuts. I think he likes her.”
Celeste was quiet for a moment and I uncovered my eyes, looking over at her. She glanced down at me and shifted, resting her head in her hand, lying on her side. I kept my gaze from wandering south, knowing I didn’t need any more fuel to the raging fire burning in my pelvis.
“I told them about you, actually.”
“Your twenty-three cousins?”
She smiled, “Yes, and my grandparents and aunts and uncles. My Uncle Brennan, er—professor Bohanan, he talked about you a lot, actually. Wanted to know how you were doing.”
I tensed, “And how is the professor?”
“Good. He’s got three kids. They’re really cute.”
Small, snotty nosed kids. My dick went limp, and I rolled onto my side, finally able to face her again.
Wrong move.
The green of her eyes was so bright and pure, her lips so perfectly parted. I pushed myself onto my back and took another deep breath.
“Maybe we should take a little break for a while?” She suggested.
My gaze snapped over to her, “What?”
She raised her eyebrows. “I just mean we’ve been hanging out for like twenty-four hours straight.”
“I don’t see a problem with that.”
“Mav…You’re the one who wants to take things slowly.”
I shifted onto my side, reaching over to take her by the hip and pull her to me. “Not so slowly that we have to spend time apart.”
She laughed, her head falling back onto the pillow.
“Maybe just weekends, though?”
I let my hand drift down her thigh, hooking my palm under her knee and lifting it over my hip. “I have games on Saturdays. And sometimes scrimmages.”
Celeste nodded, “So Friday’s?”
My hand moved back up her thigh, under the hem of her t-shirt and her breathing hitched, “I have an evening class.” I kissed her neck.
“Sunday’s?” She breathed.
I kissed down her neck and over to her shoulder, “How about we play it by ear?”
She moaned, “Fine.”
I smiled and let go of her, tugging the heavy blanket up over our bodies. She glared at me with those grassy green eyes.
“Goodnight, Celeste.” I said.
Her warm body pressed into my side, her hand resting on my stomach. Lips touched my cheek, her breath whispering over my jaw, “Goodnight, Maverick.”
I closed my eyes, sending a quick thank you to whatever deity was looking out for me in this moment.
Chapter 33
Celeste
I sat down in my first class a few rows back from the front. Perfect middle ground. There had been some trial and error at Trinity University in Dublin to figure out exactly where I needed to be and when, but I’d had Janey to help me navigate back then.
Sitting in the way back always caused too much attention in high school, sitting in the front at university would be the same.
I’d thought about every detail of my first day of school the whole summer. What I would wear, how I would do my hair, if I’d bother to wear makeup. Causing the least amount of attention without bringing attention to the fact that I wasn’t trying to cause attention was a real thin line to walk. I was unknowingly popular at the academy and I couldn’t stand for it to happen again. I couldn’t be “mysterious.” I couldn’t be anything I’d mistakenly taken as a compliment before.
So. I went for average.
I strapped down my boobs by layering sports bras, wore a navy-blue V-neck shirt from Gap that was just a size too big and shorts in a neutral color that weren’t too short, finishing off my look with my favorite running shoes. I did have to cave and bring my glasses, having somehow managed to forget to send my contacts prescription to my new address, but compromised by wearing my hair messily half-up and zero makeup.
The designer backpack my stepmom had sent turned into a great gift for my cousin Janey and was easily replaced with the one I’d taken overseas. Paired with supermarket bought pens and notebooks, I hoped and prayed my first day wasn’t zeroing a target on my back.
In Dublin, I was a target for being American, and the spotlight grew with the box of new things I’d procured for my first day. I’d been lucky then, the college was small, and the Irish weren’t the biggest fans of Americans. Janey helped me stay relatively off the radar.
I was one of the first to arrive in my class, which wasn’t ideal, but couldn’t really be helped. I didn’t want to be too late where I wouldn’t have first pick of seats and I could never, ever arrive late. So, I took my middle ground, pulled out my iMac, and stared at the screen.
Other totally normal, completely average students filtered in around me, choosing their seats randomly. A couple of prettier girls sat directly in front of me, offering me generic smiles as they scraped the metal chairs from the desks and sat down. They were casually chatting about their summers.
“Are you still seeing that football player?” One of the girls asked the other, pulling an older Mac from her worn backpack and setting it on the desk in front of her.
I glanced down at my own laptop, wondering if it looked too new.
“Ugh, no. I am never speaking to that asshole again. He was so arrogant.” The other responded.
I smiled weirdly at my desk, feeling a strange kind of DeJa’Vu. If Mav and I went to the same school, I would be almost convinced she was talking about him. I knew it was impossible, probably, but it was funny for me to think of it. Girls always talked about him in the classes we attended. If he went here, and not Yale, I knew it would probably be the same. Especially given the jock standard he was now issued.
I pulled out my phone before the professor arrived, shooting Mav a quick text.
Me: You ever bang a girl from NYU?
Mav: Bang? Who are you? I fucked a girl who now goes to NYU, if that’s what you mean. Still my favorite conquest.
Me: The girl in front of me is talking about an asshole football player she is never ever speaking to again. Just wondering how far your reach was.
Mav: Tell Heather I’m sorry.
I held back my scoff as I silenced my phone and shoved it in my backpack. The professor walked in sh
ortly after and my first university class began.
I stayed focused the entire time, taking detailed notes, flipping through the syllabus, writing down goals in my planner. It was glorious, leaving a class for the first time with a page of notes and an actual understanding of what was going to go on the rest of the semester.
I had one more class for the day, but in between, I had a virtual date with my rehab therapist, Jenny. I found a quiet corner on the seventh floor of the NYU library, popping in my headphones and flipping open my laptop. I had seven more minutes until the session began. The worn and trusty black journal I’d had to replace three times now was propped open in front of me to the most recent entry.
I saw Maverick today.
I was curious to know what Jenny would make of my budding new relationship. We’d talked about Maverick so much over the last few years, I was certain she’d be over the moon at my progress.
I was wrong.
Jenny’s expression was a worried frown, becoming deeper with every new detail I offered. She was quiet when I finished.
“Celeste, you used your memories with Maverick as a coping mechanism to withstand some of the most traumatic moments of your life,” her silver pen bounced the reflection of the sun onto her sweater. “I can’t help but feel this attraction you feel for him could be an unhealthy attachment, an obsession you’ve nurtured.”
The chair creaked when I straightened in my chair, “You don’t think I should see him?” I asked, trying not to panic.
She shook her head, “No, I think you have a long history of friendship there, but I wonder if while you were using these last two years to discover yourself and grow as an independent woman, you may have continued to…obsess over the potential of a future with Maverick.”
I didn’t respond, my mind racing.
“Tell me why you went back to New York City,” she said, scribbling in her notepad.
“I wanted to go to the college my mom went to.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Mav…he isn’t even here, he’s in New Haven, at Yale.”
“How many miles?”