Page 66 of Game On
His grin fades into a gentle smile. “Maybe, but he’d be so damn lonely,” he insists.
“True,” I say. “A boy without his dad? What a tragedy that would be.”
He scratches the back of his neck, wets his bottom lip. “Must be why I’m so fucked up.”
I don’t want to, but I snort a laugh at his self-deprecation, his raw honesty. I didn’t realize how much growing up without a dad affected him, and his unexpected openness sharpens our light conversation. I can relate. My parents never physically left, but emotionally? They’ve been checked out for as long as I can remember. It’s a different kind of absence, but it probably leaves similar scars.
I search his face, looking for signs of the boy who shaped himself into the man before me—often guarded, alwayscharming. It’s a jolt, this vulnerability from him, even if cloaked in humor.
“Okay, I’m sold,” I tell him, ignoring the twisting knot in my belly. “Could you pick me up later to bring me to your place? I don’t have a car here, or else I’d drive myself.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “Sure thing. But just to see Sour, right?”
“Yeah.” I lightly graze my fingers across his shoulder, press a thumb to the pulse point at his neck. “To see Sour.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hudson
Halloween’s coming up, and the leaves are turning a fiery orange, crunching underfoot as fall fully settles into Nashville. The air has that crisp bite to it, and every porch seems to be decorated with pumpkins except for ours.
Levi, ever the master of persuasion, has talked me into hosting a party at our place. I’m not thrilled—too many variables, too much chaos—but disappointing Levi feels worse. Besides, I’m not about to let my own hang-ups rain on anyone’s parade. So, compromise it is.
We’re keeping the event confined to the backyard. The house is strictly off-limits, especially the upstairs—no exceptions. The only indoor area guests can access will be the downstairs bathroom. This setup minimizes risks: no forgotten lights, unattended candles, or rogue appliances left plugged in.
We’re scrapping the idea of a bonfire, too. No open flames to fret over, just festive string lights safely strung up, per Levi’s adamant request, high enough to avoid any drunken mishaps.
The guest list is intentionally slim—we’ve invited the upperclassmen from the team, some of the cheer squad, and friends of friends. Ella promised to show up, too. The last couple of weeks since Lexington have been a whirlwind of hookups between us.
We’ve both been busy, but we’ve been working overtime to slip in a moment or three where we can. Now that we’ve reached an agreement, it’s nearly impossible to keep my hands off her.
That’s a big part of the reason why I have my head between her legs now. She’s all twisted up in the passenger seat of my truck. The windows are fogged, the air thick with our shared breaths. Her back arches as she grips the edge of the seat, her soft moans filling the small space.
We’re meant to be driving to a late-night practice at Skyline. But after I picked her up at her apartment, I placed a single hand on her thigh, and she looked at me with those eyes of hers. Then she gripped my hand and slid it up higher. Before I could think any wiser of it, I was pulling off the road into this deserted parking lot.
“God, you’re good at that.” She moans, head tipped back against the window.
Her words send a shiver of satisfaction up my spine. I look up at her, grinning from between her thighs. Her cheeks are flushed, hazel eyes clouded with pleasure. It’s a sight I could easily get addicted to, one I’m halfway hooked on already.
“You taste so fuckin’ good. That’s why.”
I lick her again, and she giggles, a low, throaty sound that sends a jolt straight to my core. One hand dips down to strokemy hair, and I lean into her touch. Savoring it. Relishing it. Her fingers stumble mid-caress as she jerks, a half-muffled whimper escaping from her lips.
Her thighs tremble around my head, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she rides my tongue. Her whole body tenses, back arching off the seat. The sounds she makes—the soft, breathy moans, those whiny little cries—drive me absolutely wild. So much so that I have to dig my fingers into her hips to keep from losing it. I’d rather not be too quick on the trigger, rather not ruin my favorite pair of sweats.
When she comes a few minutes later, I think she actually rips a strand or two out of my scalp. I don’t mind, though; I bury my face deeper, grinning as I lap her up. I take great pride in the fact that I can get her to this place. That she’s able to let loose and completely unwind. That her control finally breaks, if only for me.
It’s all sorts of intoxicating. A drug I’d gladly break all the rules for.
By the time we finish up, we’re only a few minutes late for practice. I won’t be joining her tonight, though it pains me to say so. I have other obligations. Namely, studying for an upcoming Classics exam.
Ash, Ella, and Luke are knee-deep in preparations for spring competitions, anyway. They don’t need the added distraction of me hanging around. I’ve been missing Skyline, though. The grueling practices, the charged atmosphere, the extra bit of time I got to spend with Ella. It stings, but that’s just the way life goes.
We’re in the trenches of our own season, and every minuteof my day is accounted for. There’s no room for extra trips or incidental hobbies. No matter how much I crave them.
Ella and I have managed to keep things light for the most part. Hooking up whenever we find the time, and then compartmentalizing the rest. It’s strictly sex—fantastic sex—between us, which I thought would be the ideal scenario.
Still, there’s this gnawing feeling that I can’t quite put my finger on. This sense of unease that creeps in when the lights go out and I’m left with my thoughts. I usually try to push it aside, dismissing it as nothing more than the consequence of a busy schedule and the ongoing stress of the application cycle.
