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Fucking bastard.
Then, Wednesday, when he came home after classes, I tried catching him, telling him, “It’s important.”Rachel told me to use those two words—that he wouldn’t be able to refuse me. I don’t know what Rachel was thinking.
“Okay,”I remember Seth saying while waving a hand in my general direction,“we’ll talk later.”
Important to Seth probably has a different meaning, because two seconds after saying“we’ll talk,” rather than stick around, he immediately turned on his heel and ran out the door. Where did he go? I have no fucking clue, but it was absolutely fucking rude. Not cute in the slightest, and it left me feeling more pissed off than before. He didn’t even come home. I waited up for him. Where the fuck did he go? Where did he sleep? I felt like I was his fucking mom, staring at the door, about to scold him the moment he entered.
The rest of the week and the weekend went about the same, which is why I am now standing in the locker room on a Tuesday afternoon, waiting for Seth to come out of the shower like I’m some sort of stalker. I hate that it’s come to this: waiting for all our teammates to leave, pacing back, wringing the towel in my hands, imagining the towel to be Seth’s throat.
I just want to know that we’re okay. Him avoiding me obviously means that we’re not, and I hate that. I miss our morning runs. I miss laughing with him and joking around. Why can’t we have that anymore? Why won’t he open up to me?
“Hey, Goode,” Mike calls from the doorway, completely covered from head to toe except for his eyes squinting above his scarf. “You coming tonight to the party?”
I shake my head. “No,” I say, watching Mike’s eyes grow and glimmer like sad puppy-dog eyes. Mike is on Rachel’s shit list. I have no clue why, but Rachel hates very few people, which means Mike royally fucked up somehow. I’m too scared to ask. I like the guy and I don’t want anyone tainting my image of him, especially when we’re on a team together.
“Oh, okay,” Mike says in the saddest little voice I’ve ever heard. “I guess I will see you at tomorrow’s practice then.”
I lift a hand, twiddling my fingers at him. “See you tomorrow, man.”
With one last look from Mike, the door shuts with a loud clang, leaving me completely alone with Seth. We’re going to get to the bottom of this, whether he likes it or not. The shower turns off and I hear some murmuring from the other side of the wall. There’s some ruffling like the sound of a towel moving. Seth is probably drying himself off now. My face heats as I imagine his strong arms and his broad shoulders, droplets running down his abs.
Yep, definitely feel like a stalker now and an asshole. Seth is going to be pissed when he sees me. A part of me wants to give up, put on the rest of my clothes and leave. If he doesn’t want to talk, then maybe it’s better to leave it and pretend like nothing happened.
But I can’t do that. Ever since that little kiss outside the liquor store, I can’t stop thinking about Seth. It’s weird. The kiss was barely that—merely lips brushing against lips. It was nothing and yet I can’t stop thinking about it. My face heats every time. There must be something wrong with me. Maybe I need to have sex with Rachel more often. We haven’t done much since we were with Hunter.
“What are you doing here?”
I spin around, finding Seth standing in just a towel tied loosely around his hips. His hair is slicked back. Water drips down his neck while his nipples stand taut against the chill. His hand grips the towel, holding it close to his form, when he stares up at me in alarm.
I cross my arms and lean against the wall, trying to look calm and collected when my heart is slamming in my chest as if it wants to escape. “Can we talk now?”
Seth rolls his eyes and his head tilts back, exposing the fine lines of his jaw and neck. His jaw clenches and his gaze looks anywhere but at me. “Can’t you wait for me to get dressed?”
“Are you going to run away again?”
Seth finally looks at me, a smirk teasing his lips. “Probably.”
I scowl at him. “Then no.”
Seth sighs and my gaze follows him as he walks slowly toward his locker. I can’t take my gaze away as I watch him unlock it, pulling out his change of clothes. My face heats when he drops the towel, displaying his ass in full view. That’s when I look away, my stomach clenching with embarrassment. I don’t know why. I’ve seen Seth naked plenty of times. I’ve even seen his dick in Rachel’s mouth, or her hands running down his abs.
My cock stiffens at the thought. I’ve always enjoyed watching. I guess that makes me a bit of a pervert, but what I’ve never allowed myself to think about is why I enjoy watching Seth getting his dick sucked and not the others. Hunter has never really done it for me and neither has Lucas. Sure, they’re handsome in that buff caveman way, but Seth is lean and toned from running. I always thought I watched him because it was easier to imagine myself as him. Now, I’m not so sure.
“So, are you worried I’m going to pounce you in your sleep?” Seth asks, drawing my thoughts back to him. My gaze lifts and I see him staring at me, now dressed in track pants, his shirt in his hands. His gaze slides all over me and I feel myself hardening under his eyes. What the hell is wrong with me? “Is that what you want to talk to me about?”
“No,” I rasp while pushing away from the wall. I keep my arms crossed, worried I will start picking at my nails or fidget too much. I’m way too nervous to be having this conversation, but I don’t want to leave. We need to talk. I need to know we can move on from this. “I’m not worried about you taking advantage of me. I just want to know why?”
“Why what?” Seth says. He plops his ass down on the bench and throws on his shirt before grabbing his shoes. He’s pretending like he doesn’t care, but I know he does. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have spent the last week running away from me.
“Why did you kiss me?”
Seth lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine, and for a moment I wonder if he’s staring at my lips and remembering the kiss. His gaze is heated, reminding me of those times he’s looked at Rachel while we’ve been in bed together. For some reason, I don’t hate it.
“I don’t know,” Seth says, his voice cracking on the words. For a split second, he looks confused, even pained as he stares at me.
I take a step toward him and Seth straightens, pressing his back against the locker as if he’s trying to put distance between us. “I think you do know.”
Seth grimaces, his hands fisting in his lip while his eyes dip to the floor. Why can’t he look at me?
