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After a few more rounds of Nickels, Aaron dramatically yawns. “I’m beat. I need a hot shower and some sleep.”
“Lame!” Joel yells, to which Aaron gives him the finger.
Aaron grabs my arm and pulls me toward the door. “I wanna talk to you for a second,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Once we’re outside my suite, he presses me against the wall and kisses me desperately. He lifts his lips off mine long enough to say, “Every time you flipped your hair, I got a little bit harder.” He presses his hips against me, and I feel his hard-on through his sweats. How he got out of there without anyone noticing is beyond me.
I trail my lips down his neck, then whisper, “I thought you needed a hot shower.”
He grabs me around the waist and pulls me forward. “I do. With you.”
His hand wraps around mine, and he drags me down the hall. Well, for two seconds, then I’m skipping with him. A hot shower with Aaron? Yes, please.
Aaron’s fingers tickle over my ribs as we lie in bed together, hair still wet from that veryhotshower. He pulls my back against his chest and wraps his arm tightly around me.
“I love you.” His voice is in a low whisper but filled with emotion.
I snake my arm up and run my fingers through his hair. “Are you okay?” I ask quietly.
I’m always hesitant to ask that question these days. He always looks like I’ve offended him. But I’m not stupid. I can tell something is off with him. I’m not sure why he won’t tell me, but I’m trying to walk the line between letting him know I’m always here and still giving him space.
His fingers loosen. “I’m fine.”
I roll over so I’m facing him.
“Are you really? Because you don’t seem like it sometimes. And I don’t understand why you aren’t talking to me about it.”
His body tightens and his demeanor changes. “Because it doesn’t matter. I’ll be fine. College has just been more of an adjustment for me than the rest of you. I’m the lame one, I guess.”
My brows dip in as I stare at him in surprise. I’ve never heard Aaron talk that way about himself in such a serious way. I run my hand over his chest. “Ace…”
He kisses my forehead. “Look, I’ll be fine. I don’t want you to worry about me or get upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “You look upset.”
When did this flip around to me?
I poke my finger hard into his chest. “Don’t change the subject, mister.”
He sighs in defeat. Or maybe frustration. “Can you trust me? I told you I’ll be okay. Just leave it. I need to get some sleep.”
Then he rolls over and faces the wall. I gently wrap my arms around him, but all I feel are his tight muscles and the coldness of whatever walls he put up.
How could I not be worried about this?
Aaron
I was an asshole to her last night.
I’m not trying to be. I’m just trying to process.
Every day I hate my classes more and to add insult to injury, I’m not doing well in a couple of them, which is stressing me out even more. The add/drop period has passed, so I’m stuck in these classes that don’t matter and I’m tanking my GPA while I do.
Usually when I felt like this, talking to Coach or getting on the mound and owning it would help get me out of my funk. I’d see things clearly. I don’t think I understood how much baseball meant to me until I didn’t have it anymore.
Great, now I’m a cliché, too.
