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I groan in response.
Usually, I’m up at the crack of dawn, but today, I can’t do it.
“Just leave me,” I mumble. “It’s too damn early.” I tug the blanket up and over my ear to block him out.
His heavy footsteps strike the floorboards in my room, and with a thump, the alarm stops beeping. He yanks the window blinds open, and the morning sun hits me right in the face.
I hiss, covering my face with the blanket.
“Get up now that you got me to come here to turn off that fucking alarm,” he barks, and he’s really starting to irritate me. “I could forgive you if you were out of it from training too hard, but you spent most of the afternoon and night indoors on your Switch,” Ryan chides. “You can’t get lazy now. You need to get into a good routine.”
His words sting. I want this opportunity so badly, especially after speaking with my mom last night and hearing her breathing heavily while insisting she’s fine. My brother took her to the doctor, but they’re still waiting for the results.
With Ryan still glaring at me, I throw the blanket off my face. I shove myself to sit up, driving my legs over the side of the bed. Sitting there for a few seconds, I try to wake up, pushing my hand through my hair to brush it out of my face.
Ryan’s there, in jeans and a jersey, wearing it at any chance he gets.
“Couldn’t sleep last night,” I murmur as I propel myself to my feet, wearing only my boxers. Groggily, I snatch my jeans and a shirt from my cupboard, then make my way out into the hallway toward the bathroom.
My thoughts swing to Emily—her being chased, her fear of me finally discovering the girl I’ve been searching for over the past few months right in front of my eyes.
Suddenly, Ryan’s in the bathroom with me, gazing at himself in the mirror, obsessing over his slicked hair, shaved close at the sides. He’s vain about his hair.
“Give me some space, man,” I groan, closing the bathroom door once he struts out.
Then it’s just me… alone. Thank fuck.
Under the shower’s spray, my thoughts drift back to Emily—her dark hair with long, flowing locks down her back, those striking green eyes. She was mad at seeing me.
Can I blame her?
Ever since that night at the party, the night we hooked up when I tasted the sweetest pussy, she’s been constantly on my mind.
Bumping into her last night was a stroke of fate.
I tried to find her after the party, but I only had her first name, no clue about her college, and no one at the party knew her. I had nothing but her underwear in my pocket—and I sure as hell wasn’t going to pull a Cinderella with those to find her. They came in their own use, anyway. Every time I put them to my nose and inhaled her, my cock throbbed, and I came so fucking hard, thinking of plunging into her.
I regret running off after I received harrowing news about my mother… I panicked and ditched her, leaving her just as she orgasmed.
Fuck! I’m an idiot.
Out of the shower, dried and dressed, I’m in my room, grabbing my bag for class, when my phone dings with a message.
Hey.
I frown, not recognizing the number.
Staring at the phone screen, I watch the three dancing dots, indicating someone is typing.
What are you doing tonight?
I reply quickly, beyond curious.
What do you have in mind?
Still clueless about who’s on the other end, I’m intrigued, nonetheless. It’s not unusual for me to receive random messages, especially from some of the football cheerleaders who seem convinced I should be dating one of them. But I have no time for their high maintenance and drama.
Silence for a long pause, and I assume it must be the wrong number or something. Shrugging, I start to head out of the room when another message comes through. It’s a photo of cute female feet with the toenails painted blue. My first thought is that it’s one of those spam texts, some ‘Only Friends’ thing for foot fetishes.
