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“Please don’t ask me to do this.” I hug her to me, bringing her closer even as I know I should be pushing her away.
“I’m not asking for something you don’t want.” She rises to her toes and places a soft kiss on my lips. “Tell me, ‘As you wish.’ Make it real,” she pleads.
“It is real. That still doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything. It means this isn’t just some crush.”
“Why would you think this is just a crush?” I wipe at another stray tear.
“If we let all the things that make this wrong stand in our way, what else is it?” She searches my eyes, looking for some sign that my feelings are as intense as hers. I brace myself for the truth I’m about to admit. The truth I was hoping to spare her from.
“I wouldn’t put our parents’ happiness at risk over a crush. I wouldn’t be worried about leaving for school because of a crush. I wouldn’t feel so tortured if this was just a crush.”
“You feel tortured?” A tiny crease forms between her brows. “Why?”
I brush my finger over her lip. “Because I’ve never wanted anything as much as football. Until you.”
“You can have both.” The spark in her eye nearly guts me.
“I can’t.” I shake my head. “To have one I have to leave the other.”
“Temporarily.” With that one word she gives me hope for a future together, however unlikely that feels right now.
“I’d still have to leave.” My resolve begins to crumble. I don’t even know who I'm convincing not to anymore. Her or me?
“But you’d know where to find me. And I’d know where to find you.” She runs her hand over my chest, more to anchor herself than to tease me, although I swear my knees almost buckle.
“I can’t ask you to wait for me.”
“You don’t have to ask.”
“Two years is a long time.” I clasp my hand over hers and hold it to me.
“It’s worth it.” There’s no trace of uncertainty in her eyes, though I’m hesitant all the same. It’s a big leap between ‘just this once’ and forever, and even though it might be too soon to think about forever, that doesn’t scare me nearly as much as it should at my age.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” I stroke her cheek. “You want us?”
“Do you?”
“More than football.” I nod solemnly.
“Then tell me, ‘As you wish,’” she whispers. “Please.”
“As you wish,” I groan as every ounce of fight I have in me dissolves instantly and I crush my mouth to hers.
I lift her into my arms and stumble back into the bedroom, my hands roaming over her in a frantic need to feel her–like there’s not enough time, or I'll never get to again. When we hit the bed, I lay her down gently, my eyes roaming over her nearly naked body as I shed my clothes.
“Wes? You’re staring.”
“Do you blame me? You’re magnificent.” My eyes track over her pert breasts, flat stomach, sleek thighs. My body screams at me to move, but my mind tells me to go slow, to savor every moment I get with the girl who owns my heart.
I lay down next to her and pull her to me, running my hand over her silky skin as my lips caress hers. My hard length is trapped between us, the friction so incredible it’s hard to breathe.
“Don’t stop.” She guides my hand to her panties, and together we pull them off.
She reaches for me, hesitantly stroking her finger over my length. I take her hand in mine and wrap it around my erection, showing her how to hold me. How to move. Then I dip my fingers into her center.
We explore each other for what feels like only seconds before we’re writhing against each other’s hands. Trying to slow things down, I roll on top of her and settle between her legs, careful not to put my full weight on her as we kiss. She lifts her hips to meet me, and my patience evaporates. “Condom,” I grunt.
