Page 14 of Tag

“You’re telling me that you can handle 300-pound linemen, but not this?”

“That is completely different than a psycho clown that never speaks butchering people for fun.”

I stifled another laugh and leaned back, letting my head fall against the cushion. “Trust me, it only gets better.”

“You know what I think would be better?”

“What?”

His fingers trailed up the inside of my thigh, slow and familiar. There was an unspoken question in his eyes, one I’d answered before.

The corners of my mouth lifted into a soft smile. He shifted, leaning in to brush his lips over mine. I kissed him back, hoping the motion would stir something closer to longing than guilt. My thoughts flickered to the kiss we’d shared earlier in his car. That one had felt easier somehow. Isolated, almost weightless. There were no expectations in the front seat of a Porsche. No decisions hanging heavy in the air, because I would never actually doanything with him in that car. My fantasies about front seats belonged to a blacked-out pickup with tinted windows.

This wasn’t so simple.

When he kissed me again, deeper this time, I let him pull me closer. His hand slid around my waist, and then he stood, lifting me off the couch. I laughed, sucking in a breath and wrapping my arms around his neck when he stumbled. I feared he would either drop me or land on my body if we both went down. He caught himself at the last second, laughing as he carried me down the hall toward his bedroom. With every step, something in me felt heavier. Like my body already understood what I wouldn’t let myself say. He laid me down gently, his eyes meeting mine. It wasn’t the kind of stare that scorched, but it was still searching, waiting for permission I didn’t know how to give without lying.

Still, I kissed him.

I waited to see if I would feel it even now, the heady rush, the overwhelming need, the craving I had only ever known with someone who wasn’t him. Instead, I kissed him harder, like pressure could summon feeling and effort could replace instinct.

He never noticed the disconnect.

I made myself respond, made myself pretend while all I could think about was how much work it took.

Every moment I longed for like this belonged to my best friend, and he belonged to someone else. I knew I needed to end this. The writing had been on the wall for so long that it was faded and dull, but I didn’t want to hurt him. So, I let him touch me. I let him kiss me again, even as every nerve in my body recoiled, unsure how to stop it without shattering everything. As his hands moved over my skin, all I could think about was how wrong this was.

I couldn’t sleep with him again.

Granted, this was only the fourth time, but I’d heard peers and friends talk about sex, and I knew it was supposed to be more than whatever it was we did. It was bad enough getting myself in the right mindset for us to fool around, but to then be so bereft after it just wasn’t worth it. I wondered if our foreplay had any bearing on that, since my boyfriend didn’t know where my clit was. Every time his fingers missed the mark, it felt like he was fumbling for a light switch in the dark.

There was only so much guiding I could do before it started to feel like I was directing a lost tourist armed with a map, GPS, and a compass, somehow still managing to lose his way. Sometimes he got close, but then, before anything could happen, he’d take another wrong turn. I’d long since given up hope of cumming with him inside me. We spent too much time readjusting after he slipped out.

That left me in my current state, staring at the ceiling after he got off and then promptly fell asleep. The silence had settled over me like a heavy blanket. His breathing was slow and even, one arm slung across his chest like he’d just run a marathon when he barely made it past the starting line. Ironically, Ashton was labeled a man-whore back in high school, whom girls couldn’t get enough of. That was long before I ever really knew him. He swore that wasn’t true. I now believed him more than ever. There was no way he’d earned that reputation through his own efforts.

I rolled my lips together and sighed, letting my hand drift between my thighs. I knew exactly where to touch. I didn’t need to be coaxed or guessed at. I bit my lip as my fingers circled my clit, the friction building fast in a way Ashton never managed. A low heat curled through my stomach, cresting into something small and quiet that flickered out before it ever really took hold.

My eyes fluttered shut, and my body sank into the mattress. This didn’t feel like release; it felt like resignation, a waste of energy, and depression waiting to settle in. The emptiness hit seconds later, pressing down on my chest as I stared blankly at the ceiling once again, waiting for it to pass like it always did.

I could’ve cried, but that would’ve been a little too dramatic even for me. I exhaled slowly and shifted onto my side.

I was halfway to stuffing a pillow on top of my head and counting sheep when my phone went off from somewhere in the other room. I rolled over and sat up, instinctively, trying to check the time, only to remember that Ashton didn’t believe in clocks unless they were built into a microwave or an oven.

Careful not to wake him, I slipped out of bed, grabbing the T-shirt I’d left at the foot. I shrugged it on as I padded into the dark hallway. The floor was cold beneath my feet, and my muscles ached from the awkward position I’d been lying in. Ispotted my phone glowing on the coffee table. I picked it up and saw the time: 12:32 a.m.

Ryder had the most recent text, but I’d also missed a few from the chat with the girls, some from the chat with our whole friend group, and one from Layla. I opened Ryder’s first.

Rye????

If I die under mysterious circumstances, you get the Denali, but only if you drive it like it deserves. I’ll leave you a pillow to sit on since you’re fun-sized and refuse to admit it.

This was so freaking random. I didn’t know how he always knew exactly when to reach out, but I wouldn’t ever stop being grateful for it.

Bold of you to assume I’d wait for you to die to steal your truck and take it for a ride.

I stared at the message for a second longer than I needed to, thumb hovering like it might keep the connection intact. When he didn’t reply right away, I opened my other texts in order.

Roxxi had messaged last in our group chat, but I was so far behind that it would take me a minute to piece together what they were talking about.

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