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With Kainot having any classes today, I drive us straight to King's place. Neither of us speaks, and she fidgets with the hem of my hoodie the entire ride.
I park in front of their house, and she's out of the 4Runner before I can shut off the car. I follow close behind as she fumbles with the lock.
Cracking a smile at her eagerness, I wrap my arms around her waist from behind. "Calm down, Princess."
I take the key from her and insert it into the lock, letting us in. I don't break our connection as we enter the house. Leaning down, I nip on the skin below her ear, and she moans, pushing back into me. There is no doubt she knows how turned on I am. I trail kisses down her neck when the sound of retching meets my ear.
What the—?
We still, and when we hear it again, my stomach constricts. Please let it be the dog. We follow the noise to Mags's room. As soon as we clear the threshold, her feet are visible through the doorframe of her bathroom.
King takes off, all but dives over Mags's bed, and sinks to her knees next to her friend.
Raking my hand through my hair—I didn't bother tying it back today—I follow a little slower. Conflicted emotions between concern and my dick weeping in my pants are raging through my body.
"Mags, what happened?" King is holding back her friend's hair as she is draped over the porcelain bowl.
"I—" More gagging comes from Mags, and I stop right outside the doorframe, saliva pooling in my mouth. I've never been good with anyoneun-eatingaround me, and I instantly feel like throwing up myself. I start reciting different stock values in my head to drown out the sounds coming from the brown-haired girl.
Eventually, the toilet flush signals Mags being done (for now). I take a step inside and lift my hands in front of my nose.
I should've stayed outside.
"It started a little bit ago. I had just made a snack when I got sick."
King swipes Mags's hair from her sweaty forehead. "Did you eat something bad?" She evaluates her carefully.
"I have no idea. I—" Mags swings back around and clings to the toilet as the retching begins once more.
King's eyes meet mine, and her mouth is in a thin line.
"Can I help with anything?" Anything to get me out of here.
"Can you get her a glass of water?" She smiles tentatively.
"Sure." I feel like a complete asshole for the relief flooding me as I make my exit and head to the kitchen.
Returning with the water, I find Mags curled up in King's lap on the floor. The poor girl looks miserable, and King is gently stroking her hair. I hand her the glass, and she sets it beside her leg on the tiles.
"I need to take care of her," she whispers.
"What can I do?" I want to help. I simply can't be around Mags expelling her guts.
King shakes her head and mouths, "I'm sorry."
"Call me if you need me, okay? Either of you." I keep my tone low, not sure if Mags has fallen asleep.
I want to lean down and at least kiss her goodbye, but that would probably be inappropriate, given Mag's current physical state and position. She nods, and I leave the two alone in the bathroom.
I haven't seenmy girlfriend in four days. Girlfriend. The term feels as familiar on my tongue as George would look comfortable dressed in a designer suit—or better, a ball gown. When was the last time I had a girlfriend? Probably senior year—Kimberly. Yeah, that sounds about right. Fuck, is King my girlfriend? She called me her boyfriend in front of the sorority jersey chasers, but we haven't talked about it since.
And why am I questioning this? Rhys would laugh his ass off. Rhys. Between my inability to see King and still working through my encounter with Lilly, my ex-best friend has invaded my thoughts more and more. Is King right? Is it time to move on?
My foot is propped up on our couch table, the TV playing a tape from one of our last games. We promised Coach we'd review it over the weekend, and of course, we waited until the last minute. Do we love football? Hell to the yes! What I don't like is getting homework for it. We normally watch our tapes together at the field house, but apparently, Coach is taking a weekend trip to Yellowstone before a specific area of the park closes.
Kai is slumped in the seat next to me, a bottle of God knows what propped between his legs. Zeke is sprawled out on the other side of our sectional, with Kiwi at his feet. The two have been hanging out more, and with Zeke at our place half the time, Kiwi has become our fourth. I'm not complaining; he's King's best friend. That makes him automatically a good dude in my book.
After King took care of Mags all day Wednesday, she took over Mags's shift in the evening, then covered both her and Mags's shift Thursday and slept most of Friday until I had to report to practice. With Coach gone, the assistant coach tortured us extra, so by the time I finished, neither my legs nor my dick were interested in driving over to King's place, which tells you how bad it was.
