Ryne gives me a pointed smirk. “You’ll also be down on my dick. If you want to, I mean.”
“I want everything with you.”
I meant for my response to come out all sexy but my brain got jumbled up and decided that the complete honest truth should tumble out instead. I close my eyes, afraid of what Ryne’s reaction might be. When I crack one eye open and peer at the screen, my stomach flutters.
We hang up after another minute or two. I get myself cleaned up and ready for bed, then flip my lamp off and turn over onto my side. I’d opened my window before jumping into the shower earlier, and the curtain sheers billow out from the breeze that floats in. The cool air kisses my cheeks, but with my blanket and Ryne’s sweatshirt, I’m plenty warm. My phone dings and I reach for it with a yawn.
RYNE: Night, D.
I smile and type out a goodnight in response, hit send, and then promptly fall asleep clutching my phone to my chest.
33
Ryne
Coach King’s hand comes down on my shoulder while I guzzle water during a break at practice.
“Sutton, I’m really pleased with how you’ve turned things around the last couple of weeks. Whatever you have been doing, keep doing it. You seem more focused, and that’s the way to finish the season strong. I’m proud of you.”
The fact that the solution to my Dacen-distraction problem has been to spend more time with Dacen is an irony that does not escape my notice. We’ve continued this messing-around-not-dating thing for the last couple of weeks. I’ve been ignoring the thoughts in the back of my mind, the things that poke and prod at me and whisper lies like,It wouldn’t be so bad if you actually for real dated Dacen, would it?
Yes. Yes, it would. I do not date.
With dating comes certain expectations. With expectations comes disappointment. When there are no expectations there are no disappointments. It’s pretty simple. What we’re doing seems to be working for the both of us. Well enough, anyway. Most of the time. I catch the looks Dacen gives me though, when he thinks I’m not looking. The creases on his forehead as he frowns and then swaps for smiles when he notices me staring back, they’re starting to eat away at me, to gnaw at my gut.
I shove all that aside and look at Coach. “Thanks, Coach. I’m trying.”
He pats my shoulder once more and walks away. I have been more focused at practice, definitely. Guess I have more room in my brain for soccer when I’m not obsessed with trying to hate or avoid someone.
Go figure.
Although giving in to temptation with Dacen brings with it a whole new set of distractions. For example, he’s pulled his t-shirt up to wipe off his sweaty brow and I have to practically dig my heels into the ground to stop myself from jogging over to him and wrapping my arms around his bare waist, to stop myself from running my hands along that light happy trail of his. As it is I’m fixated on his abs and the line of muscle that travels farther south and leads to a spot I know is particularly ticklish. A few days ago I had fun teasing him there, alternating between soft licks and kisses that made him laugh and squirm, and rough licks and sucks that had him squirming for a very different reason. Dacen catches me gawking when he drops his shirt and gives me a wicked grin. He starts to walk over but is interrupted when Jeremy steps in front of him, obstructing his path. I grit my teeth and take another drink.
Jeremy has been getting on my last damn nerve. The thing with his cousin Owen at the movies was not a big deal because Owen was seemingly clueless about Dacen and me, and a lot of good stuff spawned from it anyway which I’m thankful for. But Jeremy? He’s not stupid, he knows something is going on between Dacen and me, yet he continues to insert himself into Dacen’s path every chance he gets, trying to joke with him, touching him. All under the guise of friendship but I’m also not stupid, nor am I blind. Like right now. Dacen looks down at his shirt in response to something Jeremy says, and my eyes narrow into tiny slits as Jeremy’s hand brushes along the front of the shirt, rubbing the printed logo, and then trails down Dacen’s chest as he pulls his hand away. My nostrils flare and I slam my water on the bench.
Tyler grabs my arm before I make it more than two steps in Jeremy’s direction. When I scowl at him, ready to lay into him for stopping me, he shakes his head. “Not here, man. Let it go. Focus on practice.”
I take a deep breath, look back over my shoulder once, and follow Tyler onto the field.
* * *
I takeextra long in the shower after practice, letting the steam rise around me in the small shower stall as the water pours over my head and down my shoulders. I’m in a weird mood, have been ever since I saw Jeremy and Dacen during our break earlier. The sounds of the other guys in the surrounding area eventually taper off until it’s quiet. I shut off the water, grab my towel from the hook outside the curtain, and wrap it around my waist. When I get over to my locker, Dacen’s sitting cross-legged on the bench that runs through the center of the aisle. He’s wearing his messenger bag with it resting in his lap, and his duffle bag sits beside him. He smiles when he sees me.
“I was about to send reinforcements. I thought maybe you fell down the drain or something.” I’d taken so long he had enough time to not only shower and get dressed but also dry and style his hair. He ducks when I reach over and try to mess it up, and grabs my hand. Warm fingers brush lightly along my palm. “You turned into a shriveled up, wrinkled prune.”
I smirk and pull my hand back. “Not every part of me is shriveled up, trust me.” Dacen smacks my towel-covered ass and I chuckle, turning to grab clothes from my locker. There’s nobody else left inside the locker room so I drop my towel. I can get dressed without trying to cover myself, it’s easier. Dacen rests his hands on top of his bag and watches. “Are you gonna stare at my dick the entire time I get dressed, Dacen?”
He grins unabashedly and doesn’t look away. “Yeah, until you cover it up anyway. Oh, would you look at that! I think it’s happy to see me.”
Dacen finally looks up when I swiftly pull my boxers on and step directly in front of him. I bend down so we’re face to face. “It’s always happy to see you.”
He tilts his chin up with slightly parted lips, an invitation if I’ve ever seen one. Instead, I plant a kiss on his forehead then turn around to grab my t-shirt and pull it over my head. After I yank my jeans on—always a little tricky with skin still slightly damp from the shower—I shove my feet into socks and then into my boots. I sit next to Dacen and lean over to tie them.
“Did you want to grab some dinner or something?” It’s Thursday, but there’s no school tomorrow or Monday because of teacher workdays. I love those days. I glance over at him when he doesn’t answer. He’s absentmindedly rubbing his forehead and staring into space with a smile. “Dacen?”
He blinks a few times. “What?”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “Dinner?”
