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I stare into his eyes and choke down my natural instinct to scoff as if it’s that simple. He’s actually right, and it really is that easy.
“Hold me to it,” I request, falling back into his chest.
He strokes my back with both hands now, and if we weren’t in the middle of Patty’s I’d be working his jersey off and running my hands up his chest.
“You think you can handle me kissing you in front of all these people?”
His question darts through my chest and pierces my insides, my arms growing hotter, face burning and lips numbing. I shift to look at the crowd around us, my bathroom friends still looking on at one side and our roommate and my best friend at the other. Cutter’s hand finds my chin and he lifts it until our eyes meet. He shakes his head with tiny movements.
“I didn’t ask them. I asked you.”
I blink twice. The first time to make sure my eyelids still work and the second time out of panic.
“I can handle it,” I say, despite the inner voice telling me to stop crossing lines.
Cutter’s palms glide over my shoulders and up my neck, snaking into my hair as he closes the few inches between us and takes my mouth in his. His kiss is soft and sensual and slow, his teeth grazing against my top lip. His thumbs caress my cheeks and he somehow steps in closer, practically towering over me, which is not an easy feat. I let my hands slide into his hair, grabbing at the strands as I open my mouth to let him deepen the kiss. By the time our lips part, he's left me raw and completely high on him.
When the music changes to a slightly faster tune, I begin to pull away, but he tugs me back to him and cups my face again, forcing me to look him in the eyes. His perfect freaking face, toxic dimples, and mix of green and gold that swirl aroundhis pupils. His scent. The warmth of him. The words he always somehow knows to say.
I’m falling. Little by little. I am. And I’m so fucking scared.
16/
cutter
Even through ourkiss I could feel the tension in her body. I was so afraid I was pushing her to do something she didn’t want, even though I felt her kissing back. I never want to be that guy, the one who assumes that all women must want him and what he’s got. Those guys are dicks. And while my mom doesn’t use foul language often, that’s one term she isn’t shy about with me and my brothers.
“Just don’t be a dick,” she would say anytime we’d come to her with girl trouble. And she was always right. Her advice has never steered us boys wrong. When I had to break up with a girl my sophomore year, I followed my mom’s advice and made sure to be thoughtful but direct. And when karma made that same girl a teaching assistant in charge of grading algebra tests my junior year, keeping her respect meant not failing when my answers werekindaright.
Ivy got tired of waiting for Laney, so I promised to drive her home. Now in the quiet of the Jeep, that tension I sensed before feels more prominent. And as much as I’ve learned Laney doesn’t love to be prodded into talking, I’ve also learned that sometimes it’s required.
“Hey, you alright?”
She breathes out a heavy sigh and rolls her head on the seat rest until she’s facing me.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
She’s not fine. I can tell.
I trap her gaze for a beat but let go when I realize she’s holding her breath. I shift into drive and pull us out of the parking lot to head to the house. About halfway there, I have an idea that might just get my ass in trouble but I do it anyway. I turn onto the main drive toward campus and Laney shifts in her seat. I glance to my right to catch her concerned glare.
“I’m not kidnapping you. Well, I’m sort of kidnapping you. I just need to make a quick stop. Trust me?”
She doesn’t answer right away, and when I glance back at her, her expression seems caught, as if she’s uncertain how to answer that.
“Okay, so maybe you don’t have to trust me. How about we negotiate for a ten-minute detour?”
“I trust you,” she whispers.
A stupid, crooked smile melts on my face, so I look straight ahead to at least hide half of it from her.
“Good. Because you can. I hope you know that.”
I pull around to the back of the athletics building and kill the lights as we drive up so I don’t draw any extra attention. There are a few cars in the faculty lot, so we blend in, though most people in this building know what I drive thanks to being the campus hot boy. Football staff is always in this building until late at night when they’re in season, so I find the unlocked door and prop it open as I convince Laney to follow me inside.
“Are we supposed to be in here?” she whispers as I tug her along, our fingers threaded together.
“It’s a public university. And we pay taxes.” She tugs my arm and I stop, turn and look at her tight lips and dented forehead.
