Page 63 of Breakaway Goal

I push his head playfully. The soft, thick tuft of his hair feels so good against my palm. “Doesn’t it feel better to earn a good grade?”

“No.”

I laugh, leaning back in my chair to stretch. “Let’s take a study break.”

Rhys slams his textbook shut with enthusiasm. “Cosigned.” His bear paw of a hand taps his stomach. “Snack run?”

My own stomach rumbles. I haven’t eaten since lunch. “Sure.”

In an instant, Rhys is on his feet, and he doesn’t wait for me to stand up. His hands are suddenly underneath my arms, and he’s lifting me effortlessly from my chair.

A giddy thrill flashes in my chest at the weightless feeling as Rhys’s powerful arms easily scoop me up so high that I only need to curl my knees for him to glide me over the backrest of the chair and set me down on the other side.

A tingling feeling scatters between my thighs when I’m back on solid ground. I take a moment to let my eyes appreciate the muscles that allowed Rhys to scoop me up like I were nothing more than one of his new pillows.

“Let’s go,” he says, striding forward and playfully jostling me with his shoulder as he passes. “I’d gawk back, but I’m too hungry right now.” He adds a roguish wink that has my stomach doing something funny.

I hustle to catch up with him as he’s already a couple strides toward the elevator.

Yeah, it definitely wouldn’t be right to say thatnothing’schanged between us.

Even when we’re just hanging out as friends, he’s freer with his touch than he’s ever been before.

His teasing is starting to feel more like flirting. I’m trying not to be too shameless in the way I ogle him, but no longer needing to be guarded about how attractive I find him has lifted a weight from my chest that I never knew was there. It makes each of our interactions somehow more … honest.

It almost feels like we’re a couple.

Immediately, I reprimand myself for the thought. Rhys is just helping me with something because I broke down and begged him to do it. Once we have sex, and I get the regret-free first time that I asked him for, we’ll go back to being just friends.

The thought settles coldly in my stomach. I shake off the feeling as Rhys punches the button to the first floor and the elevator doors close on us.

This is Rhys’s senior year, and it’s unlikely that we’ll ever be living close to each other again after this. I shouldn’t waste any of the precious moments I have left hanging out with one of my best friends on feeling morose.

It’s dark when we step outside the library. There’s still a pale, twilight-blue tinge of setting sunlight on the limit of the horizon, while the sky above us is already spread with black and speckled with stars. It’s a chilly night with still air. We’re well into October by now, and it feels the way it should.

“Oh, no,” I realize, glancing at Rhys as we walk down the front steps of the library. “You forgot your jacket. Should we go back up?”

He tilts a shoulder. “Nah. I’m good.” Then he adds with a wry tone and a twitch on his lips, “I’ll just stand closer to you for warmth.”

He does just that, the side of his arm nudging against mine. Even through my jacket, heat radiates off him. Those muscles stacked on his frame must turn his body into a furnace.

We walk through campus in the direction of the closest corner store, quite literally side to side. I pull in a deep breath through my nose, fragrant with autumnal tones, enjoying the bracing chill it brings to my chest.

A gentle breeze stirs up the sound of dried leaves scraping against the stone walkways, the lighting around campus throws a calming and atmospheric yellow hue, and everything feels so perfectly seasonal.

“Did you have dinner today?” I ask Rhys when we step inside the store a block from campus.

It wasn’t too cold outside, but the warm interior feels good after the stroll through the chilly October air.

“Nope,” he answers. “Not since lunch.” He adds a laugh. “Coach is going to kill me if he knew what my dinner tonight is about to be.”

We both have the same idea, walking right past the coolers that offer salads and sandwiches, straight to the snack section.

“I’m not the only one in the mood for the most unhealthy food known to man?” I ask with a giggle.

“Absolutely not,” Rhys says, proving the truth of his words by snatching up a Zebra Cake.

I grab some Skittles, an oatmeal cream pie, and a packet of mini frosted donuts. “Ugh, my stomach hurts just thinking about eating this for dinner, but I can’t help it,” I groan.

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