After waking up from the world’s best cat nap, my stomach is growling like a grizzly, and I’m in dire need of some sustenance before I get to the point of being hangry. Aspen offers to order us some take-out or grab something from the cafeteria, but I’m not feeling it.
Honestly, what’s the point of skipping classes if we spend the whole day on campus or in our dorm? Kind of defeats the purpose, in my opinion, and that’s exactly what I tell him as I bolt out of bed and start getting dressed. He follows, albeit reluctantly, until we’re both by the front door.
“Let’s get sushi. At the place downtown you love.”
I shove my feet into my sneakers as I say this to find him yanking on his Vans.
“So we can brave the insane traffic and parking at this time of day?”
My eyes narrow on him, and I cock my head, watching as he slides on his leather jacket. “Have you always been this whiney, or have I just never noticed before?”
The observation earns me a glare, and he points his keys at me. “Keep that shit up and you can walk there yourself, smartass.”
I raise my hands in mock defeat—even though I won this bout in this battle of wills—following him out to his car.
I’m still a bit sore, even after taking some meds, and squatting down to get into his Impala makes the achy feeling in my thighs and ass become more of a burning pain. Oddly enough, it also turns me on. Not in the way that has me pitching a tent in the parking lot. It’s more of knowing why I feel like I took a Louisville Slugger up the ass last night.
Because…I basically did.
Okay, maybe a slight exaggeration on the size comparison, but Pen’s dick is definitely nothing to bat an eye at.
I laugh softly at my unintentional pun, and Aspen glances over at me like I’m crazy. Of course, when I open my mouth and tell him why I’m laughing, his lips just quirk, and he shakes his head.
“I swear, Kee. You’re so weird sometimes, it’s hard to remember why I’m even friends with you.”
“Oh, I know why.” A smirk slides on my face.
His brow arches as he rests his forearm on top of the bench seat, backing out of the spot and starting toward downtown. “Please, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“It has to be my dashing good looks.” I pause. “And the awesome seats I snag for you at my home games.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “Yep, you caught me. Toss some front row seats to college baseball, and I’m a kept man.”
“I always knew your love was bought,” I say with a facetious sigh.
We both start laughing then, and I flick the radio to his favorite alternative rock station and lean back against the seat. I’m honestly about to pass out for another mini snooze until we pull up to the restaurant, but I feel Pen’s eyes flicking to me every once in a while as he drives.
“What’re you looking at?” I mutter, my eyes still closed.
“Your dashing good looks,” he deadpans, and a small smirk curves my lips. Opening my eyes, I find his attention on the road, but a slight frown rests on his.
“What’s up?”
He remains silent, then, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t—”
“The radio,” is all he says.
The radi—Oh.
My stomach flips, and I fiddle with the sleeve of my hoodie like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. I hadn’t even realized I’d put his station on instead, and honestly, I sure as hell don’t know why I’m feeling all warm and embarrassed about something as stupid as this.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I mutter. “Just figured I hog the thing enough as it is.”
All he does is nod, attention locked on the road ahead.
After that, an awkward air settles between us and doesn’t get any better until we pull to a stop outside the restaurant. Once we’re inside and seated at a booth near the back, he’s still off, but at least he seems less…tense.
We haven’t been here since the new semester started, and when I see one of the waiters walk by with a plate of shrimp tempura rolls, my mouth instantly salivates.
“And here I thought we were coming here because it’s my favorite,” Pen mutters before reaching over and snapping my mouth closed. “Careful, you’re drooling.”
Electricity sizzles where his skin touches mine, a crackled charge surging between us as I meet his gaze from across the table. It takes every ounce of willpower I have in my body to keep from mauling him on the spot, but somehow, I manage.
He licks his lips, and my greedy eyes track the movement. Of course, when I flick my attention back to where it belongs, I find I’ve been caught red-handed.
“Still drooling,” he says, leaning back against the booth’s backrest with a knowing grin on those perfect lips.
And just like that, all feels good and right again.
Except the half-chub in my jeans. That just feels fucking uncomfortable.
It’s been years since I’ve eaten sushi for the first time, but after our food comes, I realize why I don’t eat it often. It’s because I still can’t manage a set of chopsticks to save my life. All that hand-eye coordination I’ve spent years honing by playing baseball is completely useless against two tiny pieces of wood and a piece of sushi.
But with the way Aspen’s lips curve into his sexy half-smirk each time I drop my California roll when it’s inches from my mouth, popping that addictive dimple out, I care less and less. In fact, I’m more than happy to make a fool of myself if it means seeing that look on his face.
I’ve always liked making him smile before—it’s not something he does often enough as it is—but lately, it’s become a bit of a little game for me. A secret one, of course. But I try to catalog what it is I do that gets certain reactions.
How to get a genuine smile, where the dimple is deepest. What I do that makes just the corner of his lips twitch up in amusement.
All the little things I’ve started to pay more attention to, even if I shouldn’t.
Even though it was my idea to go here, Pen ends up paying for lunch and my brain does that thing it never does. Overthink.
Actually, it does that a lot more lately, thanks to my hopeless attraction to Aspen, but it’s still not a feeling I’m used to. I really fucking hate it, honestly. The uncertainty. Questioning every action he makes. Wondering what he’s thinking whenever I do something, like swapping the radio to his favorite station when I never do that.
We’re back to the car in a flash, heading back to campus, so I can get my butt to the gym on time.
As we walk down the paved paths across the quad in the direction of our dorm, I can’t help but notice Aspen’s still a little…different than he was last night. Not in a bad way, like how things were in the car before lunch. It’s more that I keep catching him glancing at me out of his periphery. Watching me a little closer. Though I’m sure it’s more out of concern than anything else—probably checking for signs of discomfort on my part—I wish it was for another reason entirely.
Which I need to shut down, right now, if only for my own good.
Wanting something like that is dangerous. Both to our friendship and to my heart. Because as much as I wish I didn’t feel something more for Pen than just friendship, I do. I think I have for a while now.
I feel safe with him. Protected. Secure. Completely myself and more understood than I am with anyone else.
But this isn’t just that.
It’s that ache of longing in my chest that’s setting off alarm bells.
“You good?” he asks, giving me a nudge with his shoulder as we walk side by side.
More than anything, I wanna reel him in for a kiss, right here in the middle of the quad. And maybe hold his hand later while we make it the rest of the way back to the dorm. The kind of things that…couples do together when they’re out in public.
But again, I hold out. Keep myself in check, proving that I have way more willpower than I thought.
“All good,” I tell him. I hate that it’s a lie, and even more, I hate how bitter it tastes on my tongue.
We said we’d be honest with each other when we started messing around in the bedroom. Aspen kept his end of the deal, opening up to me earlier when we got back into bed. But I can’t bring myself to give him the same level of honesty about what’s going through my mind right now, all under the guise that it’s better for me to keep something like this to myself.
What I’m wanting isn’t what we agreed to, and the last thing I want is to screw up what we have going by trying to change it. After all, we’d both said this would end if we felt like something would start messing with our friendship.
The urge to act all couple-y definitely falls into that category.
So, as hard as it is and as much as I don’t want to, I fight the wants and desires my heart’s begun aching for. I do my best to shove them to the back of my mind.
Out of sight, where they bel—
“Waters!” I hear my name shouted, though the recognizable voice has me wincing and looking for cover. It’s no use, though. Avery’s spotted me, and the only way I’m getting out of whatever conversation that’s about to happen is by dropping dead on the spot.
When I start to slow, ready to turn and face my pain-in-the-ass teammate, Aspen grabs my sleeve and keeps us moving forward.
My brows furrow, glancing at him in question, but he shakes his head slightly. “Just act like you didn’t hear him. C’mon, the dorm’s right around the corner.”
Sometimes I wish I could just take a page from Aspen’s anti-social playbook and ignore people outright, but that’s not me. Even if that person is one of my least favorite people on the planet.
“He knows I heard him,” I hiss.
Sure as shit, Avery shouts out, “Hey, don’t ignore me, asshole!”
“See?” My teeth clench and I come to a halt, ripping my sleeve free from Pen’s hold. He stops a few feet ahead of me before turning around.
From the set of his jaw and the hard stare he pins me with, I can tell he’s not happy. Probably because Avery’s the definition of an asshole, and he has a habit of making my life—and Pen’s, by association—a living hell whenever possible.
Which I’m sure he’s about to do…right now.
“You’re too—” Aspen starts, but I cut him off with a shake of my head.
“I know,” I tell him.
He’s always said I’m too nice for my own good. Too forgiving and understanding. It’s not something I can really help, and most of the time, it’s not a bad quality. I just like making people happy or helping out however I can.
And it’s not like I make a habit of letting myself become a doormat. No matter how much some people—like the douche nozzle who just grabbed my shoulder to spin me around—wish I was.
While my expression is somewhere between bored and annoyed when I meet Avery’s gaze, he looks…worried?
What the—
“You know, it’s kind of rude to just keep walking away from someone trying to get your attention,” he says, crossing his arms across his chest.
Well, there goes my theory of him being concerned about something. He’s just a dick, same as always.
“Coming from a jackass like yourself, that’s kinda rich, don’t ya think?” Pen snaps from behind me. Venom and contempt lace his tone; not that I’m at all surprised. I think he’s the one person who dislikes Avery just as much as I do, if not more.
Avery takes a step toward Aspen, attention fixated on him in a death glare over my shoulder, but I hold up my hand to stop him.
“Both of you, cut the shit. What do you want, Reynolds?”
His scowl moves from Pen to me before turning into a sneer. “Geez, aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today. I didn’t mean to interrupt your date, but—”
“Mmm, see that’s where you’re wrong,” I cut in, cocking my head. “Because you did mean to interrupt. You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t give two shits about what I was doing when you were shouting my name across the quad. What you wanted was more important.”
Confusion is added to the disdain written on Avery’s face. I can tell he’s surprised by me snapping at him so quickly. Honestly, I’m a little surprised myself.
But fuck him for coming in here like a dick and—
“Wow,” Avery says slowly, stepping away from me. “I guess I won’t ask if I can snag you for some extra pitches tomorrow before practice.” His gaze flicks to Aspen again. “Fuck him better next time, will ya? There’s no reason anyone should be this pissy after getting laid.”
I can feel the fury radiating off Pen from behind me, and I put my hand to the side to stop him without even looking.
Avery’s just reaching. Being a douche because he can, not because he actually knows about what happened last night. There’s no possible way for him to, unless he somehow snuck a camera into Pen’s room without our knowledge.
The rational part of Pen’s mind certainly knows this too, but it’s not enough to stop him from popping off.
“Fuck you, Reynolds.” Aspen seethes. His heart’s pumping wildly beneath where my palm is pressed against his chest.
Avery just smirks and flips him the bird as he backs away.
“In your fucking dreams, faggot.”
