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“You better get inside before you give yourself away, James,” she says, glancing down at my rock-hard cock protruding from my joggers.
I laugh at myself because what can I do, and Morgan leans in, pressing her lips against mine as I’m mid chuckle. Adding to my torture, she runs her palm down my stomach until she is fully cupping my hard-on, and my dick flexes in her hand.
“Oh . . . okay,” I stammer out. She nips at my lips then backs away, leaving me hard, freezing cold, and so fucking turned on.
“I’ll wait for your text,” she says.
She flips her ponytail over her shoulder before looking away from me and literally swaying her hips as she walks away like some sex kitten from the movies. I stare with my lips parted, still thrumming with the sensation of her kiss. I reach into my pants and adjust myself as best as I can before bending down and brushing grass from the bottoms of my pants. I’m still half hard when I get back to our apartment, and I slip in through the door, careful to not make any more noise than I have to. When I click the door shut, I pause and listen for a moment. The shower is no longer running, which means I need to get my ass in my room. I make it halfway across the living room when the scent of freshly brewed coffee hits my senses.
“How was the sleepover?” My dad’s tone is flat, lacking the sarcasm I know lies underneath his words. That’s because right now he’s too pissed to allow anything remotely funny to transpire.
I rock back on my feet and turn to face him. He’s blowing across the top of his coffee cup, steam glowing under the light from his phone. I’m sure he was checking his email or reading the news. He has a routine in the morning, and it starts early.
“I can explain,” I sigh, moving closer to the counter to keep some space between us. Not that I’m thinking about Morgan’s naked flesh anymore. Now I’m thinking about the dead meat I am.
“Choices, James. That’s what I told you, and that’s all I have to say now. Mind your choices. Now, get some clothes on and get your ass in the weight room.”
My dad clicks the screen dark on his phone and takes his mug in his other hand before heading to his room where my mom is sleeping through all of this. I’m not sure which would be better, having her awake and on my side, or having her agree with him and hitting me with a double dose of disappointment. I’m not entirely sure where she would fall on this one. She doesn’t necessarily get behind my dad’s all-football-all-the-time approach, but she also knows how much I need to get everything just right in order to get into the kind of college I want.
“Yes, sir,” I finally utter as he shuts his bedroom door.
Fuck.
* * *
My dad got Theo’s punishment reduced to a single game. That means Theo’s able to join us today for practice, which makes the extra hits everyone gives Raskin on his behalf a little sweeter.
Things seem to be sorted out between Lily and him too. We’re going to watch her compete next week as a team. My dad likes fostering community and supporting other athletes. He’s always seen that as a natural way to build camaraderie. It was my idea, and yeah, I suggested it partly to show Theo that I truly only see Lily as a friend. I sense he still harbors some weird jealousy over her tutoring me.
I also knew if I set something like this up, I could sit with Morgan, and finding ways to be with Morgan without having to sneak around behind my father’s back is proving to be a challenge.
I’ve been out of practice for thirty minutes now, and there’s no way she doesn’t realize this. I haven’t texted. I’m showered and ready to go, yet here I am, sitting in my room like a grounded ten-year-old who broke a lamp. Only I didn’t break a lamp. I broke a rule. And really, it’s not an entirely fair rule. My dad doesn’t know Morgan. I’m only getting to know her, and every new thing I learn changes the public perception I once admired online for completely shallow reasons.
The knock on my door sends a paranoid jolt up my spine and I flip my phone over on my thigh as if I have something to hide. Like seeing my phone screen will somehow pull the thread on my inner turmoil of whether to text Morgan or not, and if I do, whether that text should cancel our plans or confirm them.
“Hey, I need to talk to you about something.” My dad closes the door behind him, which makes my chest tighten. He’s either going to pick up where the lecture left off this morning, or he’s going to start an entirely new one.
I scoot over on the foot of my bed to make room for him, and as he sits down he rubs his chin in that same thoughtful way he used to deliver news about one of our fish dying or the hamster getting out.
“Did the headmaster change his mind?” I’m taking a wild guess that this is about Theo’s suspension.
“Huh?” My dad is still rubbing his chin but breaks from his trance after a few seconds to look up at me as if my question is finally catching up to him. “Oh, no. Theo and Raskin are on track. That’s fine. All is fine. No, this is . . . well, it’s unfair news. And I have to tell you, and this is when it is exceptionally hard being both your coach and your father.”
My mouth hangs open for a breath and I lean back on my palms, dropping my chin to my chest.
“Okay. Go ahead.”
I stare down at frayed hole in the knee of my jeans and prepare myself for whatever’s coming.
“The coach from Brown is coming to practice tomorrow.”
My heart pushes out a single, massive beat, then stops. This isn’t good news, despite how I’ve always imagined my father uttering this exact sentencewouldbe.
“He’s coming to take a look at Toby.”
All I can do is breathe out a pathetic laugh and close my eyes.
“Of course he is,” I say.
