Over the Fence Box Set

by Carrie Aarons

  I try to shut my brain off and focus on dancing with her, on the way my body responds to her curves.

  Except that I don’t really like long blond hair hitting me in the face every other minute. And I don’t like the manufactured smell of the sickly sweet mango perfume/body wash that she wears. And I don’t like the way she’s giving me these phony come-hither bedroom eyes like I should be falling out of my skull to sleep with her. None of this appeals to me.

  Glancing around the bar, due to my lack of interest and ridiculous level of intoxication, I audibly gasp when I see Owen, Minka, and Kelsey push through the entrance to Sammy’s. Fuck.

  Owen waves at me, his goofy smile giving away the fact that they either came from a party or pre-gamed the shit out of this. Minka and Kelsey are laughing hysterically at each other, and I know they’re equally as blitzed.

  I try to pour my entire concentration into Rachel. Dancing with her. Feeling her skin. Relishing the hardness in my pants. Anything to distract me from the fact that Kelsey is here.

  And then all three of them have joined our corner of the dance floor, Owen and Minka sinking together as the music beats even louder than before. Double fuck.

  Kelsey sways to the music, the entire room disappearing save for her petite body doing an enchanting, exotic dance designed to get my whole attention. She has her eyes closed; her cropped black tank top sweater rising up just below the two round swells of her tits every time she raises her hands above her head. Her black jeans hug her tiny waist snugly, her hips flick back and forth gently and sexily at the same time. Rather than the uniform stripper pumps that every other girl in here has on, she’s opted for a plain old pair of red sneakers. It makes her even more attractive. Kelsey does what she wants. Her crimson locks are curled and messy, floating silkily around her jawline.

  She’s a goddess.

  Rachel doesn’t notice that I’ve practically stopped moving. And clearly, she doesn’t get the memo on how not into her I am, because she turns around, not so subtly grabbing my crotch between the two of us.

  “Want to get out of here?” she whispers, her tongue playing on my earlobe.

  Before I can answer, her hands are off of me. Kelsey stands between us, a bitchy smirk on her face.

  “Mind if I dance with my friend?”

  “What the fuck?! Excuse me, we were dancing!” Rachel’s voice has reached a dog whistle tone.

  “Actually, it looked like you were grabbing his cock without permission. Go find another athlete to fuck. Go on!”

  Rachel has the decency to look embarrassed, and she and her friends slink away to the other side of the bar. I’m half-pissed and half-amused. Except now Kelsey is standing in front of me and my drunk brain can’t decide whether to run or grab the opportunity.

  “I was into her, you know …”

  “No, you weren’t. You couldn’t look less bored if you tried.”

  I hate that she can read my thoughts. I also hate that I can’t keep my drunk hands off of Kelsey. I blame their wandering on the Jack Daniels as they reach out to take Kelsey’s hips.

  “You’re a cock block.” I smile, only half kidding as we begin to sway absentmindedly. I don’t know or care what song is on. The only thing I care about is her.

  “Oh, shut up! Dance with your best friend on her last night here.”

  Her words slice open the not-anywhere-near-healed wound in my heart. She’s leaving?

  “You’re leaving?” My intoxicated brain is so smooth right now.

  “Time for this bird to fly.” She grins, hugging in closer to me. A warm flush moves over my entire body. It feels like I’m being dunked in flames.

  The song changes again, a slower, R&B chart topper blaring out onto the dance floor. Kelsey turns in my arms, her back to my front, her petite frame engulfed by my big body. She starts to shimmy in slow, controlled motions. The way her hips grind against me has me gasping for breath. It feels like I might die, come, or explode simultaneously, and my body can’t compute everything that is happening.

  I grab her hips tighter, my rough hands making indentations on the bare skin above her jeans. That pretty pale skin will probably be bruised tomorrow, but neither she nor I seem to care. Kelsey winds her tiny arms behind her and up around my neck, causing me to lean forward over her. From here I have the most perfect view of her cleavage, her hard nipples straining against the material of her top. I bend down, burying my nose in her hair. She smells like shea butter and citrus. I want to drown in that scent.

  Kelsey is rotating her hips so hard right now that it’s like she wants to grind my pants off. My cock is two seconds away from leaking all over the inside of my jeans.

  I don’t know if we’re teasing, just dancing as friends, trying to show off for a crowd, or if this is serious. Does she wants me just as much as I want her right now? I haven’t ever crossed the line with her. The one that if I go over, there isn’t any turning back. I either go full speed at home plate, or I fall flat on my face, rejected. And I know I should stick to my plan, move on. Find another girl to distract myself.

  But she’s leaving. I have absolutely nothing to lose. And even if I did, I don’t seem to care one bit right now.

  With that, I bend down farther, sliding my hands from her hips to her thighs and in a bit more. I swear I hear her suck in a breath. I plow forward, directing myself as I go. Not that I have a full-fledged plan, but there have just been so many things I’ve wanted to do to Kelsey, with her, that I’m improvising with the short amount of time I have left.

  Lowering my lips, I sniff at her bare neck and collarbone, inhaling every sweet smell coming off of her. Damn, she smells so good. Leaning in and closing the rest of the distance, I fuse my lips to her skin.

  Nothing has ever tasted sweeter in my entire life.

  Forget her scent. This. This is what I will never be able to get out of my brain for as long as I live. The taste of her. The smooth, warm skin under my tongue. The way she tastes like the desert and the rain forest all rolled into one. She tastes like nature itself. She is the only thing I need to survive.

  “Clint,” Kelsey half-whimpers, half-chokes out my name and I think it might be the sexiest word anyone has ever uttered. I slide my lips over her skin again, leaving slow kisses and licks on her burning flesh.

  I feel like someone poured diesel and liquid nitrogen into my veins. I’m so amped up, so on edge, that I almost don’t trust myself to touch her right now. I feel like I might break her in half in my haste to feel her. I’m shaking, half-drunk and half-dazed. I feel high, like I might be hallucinating. But my vision and actions are so crystal clear at the same time.

  She turns in my arm, the same feral look in her hazel eyes that I imagine she sees in mine. “Take me somewhere.”

  And now we’ve both crossed it. That line. Me by putting my lips on her skin. Her by agreeing to this, to being with me.

  My only response is to take her hand and drag her out of the bar, stopping as we spill onto the sidewalk. Our heads are both on swivels as we glance around, looking for somewhere, anywhere to go. If anyone is watching us, we probably look like we’re on Molly, or one of the other drugs all the kids on campus seem to be taking these days.

  After a minute of frantic searching, Kelsey grabs my arm and sprints for a nearby alley between two of the downtown shops. Both of them are closed, the windows dark, and no one will see us as we make our way into the back of the unlit cement space.

  We don’t say a word, but as soon as we’re concealed from the street, she’s on me.

  I catch her as she’s mid-leap to my body, wrapping my arms around her tiny frame and hoisting her up so that our faces are level. Turning her, I prop her against myself and the wall, the way I’ve seen in the porn I watch. Except all of our clothes are on. And my dick isn’t inside of her. But shit do I wish it were.

  I pause, sensing the weight of the moment. I’m about to kiss Kelsey. She has her legs around my waist, my hands are in her hair, and I’m about to kis
s her.

  She lets out a moan of impatience and I dive in, throwing all importance to the wind.

  My lips crash down hard on hers, the worries about finesse and expertise completely wiped out of my mind. My brain is blank save for the way Kelsey tastes, smells, and feels. My memory has been erased, everything that came before this moment in time does not matter at all.

  Our alcohol-tainted breath mixes, the scents and tastes fueling our burning kiss even more. She writhes against me, her small limbs wrapping like vises around my waist and neck. We can’t get close enough to each other. I’m practically branding the rough brick wall with a tattoo of her form.

  My body feels like one, pulsing exposed nerve. I’m too hot, too sensitive, too turned-on. After what feels like hours of my lips being fused to hers, I come up for air, gulping in sweet oxygen.

  Kelsey’s entire body is one huge blush. Her pearly flesh is flushed and pink-tinged. It only makes me harder. I can feel my rock-solid dick snuggled closely between us. This is the closest he’s ever come to that spot on a girl. And he’s about to bust any minute because of it.

  It’s not like I’ve wanted to wait. But it doesn’t work like that when you’re nearly three hundred pounds. And not one girl will even look at you, better yet want to get naked and fool around with you. I’ve had my share of drunken, pity kisses and sloppy groping over the clothes. But that’s about it. The fact that I’m here, in this predicament with the girl I’m basically head over heels in love with? It is surreal.

  And being here, like this, now? I’m not even sure what to do next. I want so badly to keep going, to see where we end up, but I’m not even sure I know how. When I think about trying to undress her, unhooking her bra, using my fingers in the right way, putting on a condom. All of those complexities? What if I do it wrong? What if I’m lousy at sex? What if I only get one shot with her? What will she say when she finds out I’m a virgin?

  “Clint?” I barely even hear Kelsey for how breathy her voice is.

  I look up, and then down. I’ve gone soft. Fuck. I’m so in my own head that I can’t even properly try to perform for the girl of my dreams.

  I set Kelsey down, her back sliding on the hard brick, and back away. I run my hands over my head, feeling the prickly black stubble of my buzz cut.

  “Fuck …” I grumble.

  “Um … what’s going on?” She sounds confused. And also turned-on. The neediness is so evident in her voice that it gets my useless cock to twitch, but then it goes limp again.

  “I’m sorry … I don’t know …”

  Anger flashes on her face. “You don’t know? What, I’m not good enough for you? Wow, Clint. I mean I knew there was a line there …”

  I cut her off. “No, Kelsey, listen, you don’t understand—”

  “No, seriously. I get it. Completely. You want some slutty blond skank. That’s clearly what was on the menu tonight. Please, don’t let me stop you. It’s probably best we didn’t anyway. Easier to be friends after, right?”

  She scoffs and fluffs her hair. What I have come to know as her defensive maneuver. She’s masking her hurt with her usual sassiness. She thinks I don’t want her? God, she can’t be further from the truth. And then she keeps going, talking to hide her hurt as well. “I mean, I thought you’d have a little more standards. If you don’t want me, at least go for a brunette or something, you know …”

  I’ve heard enough and cut her off with a harsh, “Kelsey!”

  She shuts up. I finally see through to the girl inside of her. The scared, vulnerable one that she loves to shun away and bury deep. I don’t have another choice but to tell her my secret. She can’t think I don’t want this. I want this more than air. More than life.

  “I do want you. More than you could possibly know. It’s just … I don’t, I’m not, experienced.”

  She looks at me, another confused expression moving over her foxlike sharp features. I have to rip this Band-Aid off.

  “I’m a virgin.”

  The realization dawns on her face, and I feel like I’m going to be sick I’m so embarrassed.

  I can tell Kelsey is struggling to keep her reaction in check, but her blush gives her away. She thinks this is amusing, or embarrassing, or something. She probably thinks I’m a freak.

  “Clint, I didn’t know, I didn’t guess …” There is a small half-smile gracing her lips.

  Fuck, she’s smiling at this. My deepest secret, the thing I’m most ashamed of in this world and she’s smiling.

  “You have no idea what it feels like to be looked at in disgust. Jesus … look at you!” I wave my hand at her perfect body. I can feel the anger suffuse through my veins, I can feel my leash on it start to break. I have to get out of here before I blow up on her. “Forget I ever told you. Just … forget it.”

  I don’t even wait to hear or see her reaction. I turn, the hot summer night doing nothing to cool my fury, and start to run. I don’t know where I’m running, or why. I run for what feels like hours, the rage in my veins slowly dissipating to a cool exhaustion.

  When I finally drag myself back to the house, the entire structure is pitch-black. I sneak into my room, too tired to even remove my clothes, and fall into a fitful sleep.

  4

  Kelsey

  I’m not really sure what I’m still doing at Grover. Much less what I’m doing still living in the same house as Clint.

  In some unearthly way, Minka has convinced me to stay here for a couple more weeks. She told me not to run, that my parents will find me no matter where I go. And she’s right. But that hasn’t stopped my gypsy nomad ways before. So, what the hell am I still doing here?

  Maybe it’s Dorothy and the other animals at the preserve who I can’t seem to tear myself away from. Maybe it’s the fact that Jackson is here, and I always feel better when he’s in close proximity. Maybe it’s my gut telling me I shouldn’t move on yet, and I’ve always trusted my gut. It’s usually the only thing I can trust.

  So why the hell is my stupid freaking gut telling me I need to address this business with Clint? Why is it putting these thoughts in my head? Thoughts of us together.

  A virgin. Who the fuck would have seen that curveball coming? Well, except Clint. He’s great at handling balls. Fuck. Dirty thoughts and innuendos are usually my bread and butter, but I can’t seem to get my mind out of the gutter when it comes to Clint these days.

  But a virgin? My hot, scruffy stud of a best friend hasn’t dipped his wick in the honey pot?

  And then I remember what Clint used to look like. It took me some time to get used to the new him, but now that I have I almost forget he used to be heavy. But how could I forget that? I barely recognized him when I came home. I almost hit on him on the porch when I arrived.

  It still blows my mind though. Clint’s personality is awesome, regardless of what he looks like. There had to be some girl who would have ridden that horse into town. And a hell of a lot more would give their right tit to hop on some hot baseball player’s junk the way he looks now.

  And just maybe, that’s why I’m sticking around. I’m not afraid to admit it. I like sex. A lot. Great sex is good for the body, the soul. And the clit. Can’t forget that one.

  Three days ago Clint slammed me up against the wall behind Sammy’s, and I haven’t been able to get that kiss out of my head. It haunts me every waking, and sleeping, second. I know I want more. And we’ve already crossed the line. The one we both know exists. There’s a country called Friend Zone, and we left it to travel to the island called With Benefits. And now that we are on that island, I want the whole vacation.

  I don’t want to set up a home—no relationships that’s my rule—but I’ll take a nice long relaxing vacation. Who better than with someone I think is funny, genuine, and extremely sexy? It’s a plus that Clint is my friend. We could hump like bunnies and then go get a beer. And after it ends, because it will inevitably end, we would be able to move on and stay pals.

  There’s just one little wrinkl
e. Clint hasn’t spoken to me since he literally ran away from me in that alley.

  When I’m at the house, he’s never there. He won’t come home until late at night. He takes all of his meals to his room so he won’t have to talk to anyone.

  I’ve tried to corner him several times, but he always slips out or makes some excuse. Well, tonight I’ll be making sure that he can’t get away.

  Minka and I sit in our stadium seats, surrounded by hundreds of other Grover fans here for the exact same reason. Minka is busy chatting away to the other girlfriends, or WAGS as I call them, in the section. The girls she’s become friendly with since she started dating Owen two years ago. I can’t be bothered with small talk right now though. Especially with those bimbos.

  My eyes are glued to the field waiting for Clint to run out as they announce him. I’ve already watched him warm up for the super-regional game, those hot white baseball pants hugging the dips and valleys in his ass and thighs. The gym has done that man good. I am practically sweating through the Grover Baseball T-shirt I stole from Clint’s room before Minka and I left.

  “What’re you doing?”

  I barely register Minka’s question and don’t bother to peel my eyes from the field twenty rows in front of us. “Hm?”

  “I asked what you were doing? Why do you look like Jesus himself might run out of the dugout right now?”

  Sliding my eyes over to her, I smile. “Maybe Jesus himself is about to come out of there. Hot Jesus in white baseball pants.”

  “You’re such a hornball. I knew you begged to come to this for a reason.”

  “More like one reason.” I lick my lips and blow her a kiss, earning me the usual Minka eye roll.

  “And what would that reason be?”