Page 113 of Gorgeous

Callum’s brother, Carter, steps in after that and attempts to explain to Toby (using smaller, less aggressive words) that Theo will be low on the totem pole when he gets to the team. They do not need anyone to “show them how it’s done.”

“I’ll go to their AAA team until they have a spot open on the roster.” Theo corrects them with a shrug of his shoulders, acting like he isn’t stressed about pitching for a title-winning team—a team that shelled out enough money to feed a small country to acquire him.

I’m not worried though; Von Bremen doesn’t fail at anything. I’m confident he’ll amaze and astound, moving through their AAA club quickly.

Callum scoots closer to the table like he’s about to tell a juicy secret, “Dude, I heard they haze the shit out of rookies.”

Theo looks at Brody, his catcher, who also happens to be going with him to the Nationals. They both grin devilishly. “I think we can handle a little hazing.”

No doubt. Epic pranks and hazing were their trademarks at Georgia Tech. Not that I saw it first-hand. I attended Mercer. Since we don’t go to the same college, Theo and I share an apartment off campus in-between the two schools in Atlanta. The commute through downtown is a bitch, but it’s worth it to stay together.

“What about you, Anniston? Will you be going with him?” Damn Toby and his infinite questions tonight.

The table quiets as they all stare, waiting for my answer. And it’s this exact question, which made the decision to stay behind in Madison difficult in the first place. Theo and I battled over it for months. He wanted me to go to Washington and finish med school there, but I needed to do this on my own. Alone. Theo and I have been attached at the hip since middle school. It’s not a bad thing, but it felt like the right time to branch off and do my own thing. Theo is all I have left here in Georgia—ever since my grandparents’ death four years ago. When he moves to Washington tomorrow, I’ll be moving back home to Madison, moving into my grandparents’ abandoned plantation, attending the University of Georgia in the fall.

I chance a look at Theo, silently begging for help in answering Toby’s question. He only shrugs, absently picking the label off his beer bottle. His constant fidgeting is a well-known effect of his ADHD. It used to annoy me that he was always in motion but I’ve grown used to it over the years. Now, it hardly registers. Except, like now, when I’m frustrated and want to smack that bottle clear out of his grip.

I take a small sip of my beer, offering Toby a smile that pretty much saysthis is none of your damn business. “No. I’m not. I’m moving back home over the summer.”

I swallow a few more sips, ignoring the curious expressions of Theo’s teammates at this shocking revelation.

“Yo!” Brody interrupts, cutting the tension at the table. “I forgot to tell y’all about this yoga instructor I bagged this past weekend!”

The guys’ eyes light up at the mere mention of bagging anything, effectively halting any further questions about mine and Theo’s living arrangements.

“Fucked her in a cabinet!”

“No way! A cabinet?”

“Yeah, dude, I crouched down like I was catching a knuckle ball.” Brody stands, demonstrating the squat and hip movement he used. “Plowed her right there in the dorm kitchen!”

Everyone at the table laughs hysterically, egging him on and creating a flurry of “this one time” tales that I highly doubt happened to the majority of them.

I’m only half listening to all the random fuck stories they over-share when I decide enough is enough. I’m ready to go. I poke Theo in the ribs, our universal sign for: this blows, let’s go.

He catches my finger, pulling my whole hand to his lap, intertwining his fingers with mine. His thumb begins to rub soft circles over my arm, creating tingling sensations that radiate right into my heart. I love when he does this. I’m going to miss it when he’s gone when he’s rubbing some other girl’s arm.

I lean closer, my shoulder against his as he chimes in here and there to Brody and the rest of the guys. The heat of his body relaxes me so much that I could curl up like a cat and purr my approval of his petting.

Part of me is excited he agreed to take my virginity tonight and another part of me feels like a damn fool for even considering it. It seems fitting, though, that our last night together be memorable. It’s not like we were going to do anything big. We planned on staying up late into the wee hours of the morning, playing drinking games to horror movies until it was time for him to catch his plane. Irresponsibility at its finest. Always the best way to start off a new job.

My hand eases to his thigh, feeling the softness of his jeans, the smell of his Irish Spring soap seeping through the fabric. I wiggle closer, daydreaming about how he kisses the top of my head when I fall asleep watching his game footage; the way he grins ear to ear when I argue with the ref over a bad call. I’m going to miss coaching him from the sidelines, cheering him on from the bleachers. Tomorrow, our Saturday practices will officially be over.

Basking in my sorrow, I trace patterns on his faded denim, memorizing the way they hug his muscular thighs, almost like they were designed just for him. Farther up, my fingers wander as the hypnotic motion of his hand works me into a trance. The cadence of his voice only depresses me more as I remember I’ll no longer wake up to his sexy groans as he stumbles to the kitchen in search of coffee, or the pep talks he gives himself in the shower on game days.

More and more, my hand drifts upward until his deep timbre starts to stumble and stutter.

Voice strained, he answers Callum about some teacher he thought was single. Wonder what’s got him so worked up? Ms. James isn’tthathot. Getting back to my ministrations on his thigh, I realize my fingers are an inch from his dick. I test the water and walk them up a couple of steps.

The hand rubbing my arm stops moving entirely as his body goes stiff with tension. I gaze down, noticing the tent that has now pitched in his jeans.

I don’t know what makes me do what I do next.

Maybe it’s the beer? Maybe it’s because it’s our last night together? Or maybe it’s because I have nothing left to lose. But before I overthink it, I eat up that last inch of space and cup his manhood, caressing it with the entirety of my hand.

Theo jerks, his breath hissing as he tries to compose himself before the guys take notice. Massaging the fullness to a hardened state, his thick length pulses in my palm as I begin to stroke up and down at a leisurely pace.

“So, whatcha think, man? Should I go for it? I’m graduating…no longer a student.”

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