“Someone’s distracted.”
I blinked, shaking off my thoughts and coming back to the present moment. My uncles gave each other knowing looks, Nathan readying the pumpkin seeds to bake while Kevin carved an elaborate design into the orange fruit the seeds had been scooped from. My cousin watched from where I had her seated in my lap, pumpkin goop all over her hands that she’d take a taste of from time to time.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Just thinking about the game.”
It was a lie, one I knew they saw right through.
I hadn’t thought of anything, or anyone, but Julep since the night I kissed her.
Ever since, I’d been wound tight, my gut in a perpetual state of unease. It was a mixture of guilt and fear swirling with longing and desire. I’d stared right into her father’s eyes as he told me to keep my hands off her, and yet in that moment, it was impossible.
I couldn’t kiss her.
And yet, I couldn’t not kiss her.
If she hadn’t moaned, if that sweet, intoxicating sound hadn’t jerked me back to reality, I would have taken her. I would have shredded that vintage top she wore and peeled her jeans off leg by leg. I would have hiked her ankles onto my shoulders and buried myself so deep inside her I left a permanent piece of me behind.
But sense had found me, and I’d somehow managed the miracle of stopping.
Judging by the way Julep ran, I knew she was glad I did.
We hadn’t talked since, not even a friendly greeting when we passed each other at the stadium. I kept my head down when I saw her, and she did the same when I was in the room.
But I felt her buzzing presence like neon under my skin.
“Are you playing?”
I blinked, again coming back to the messy kitchen. “What?”
“In the game,” Uncle Kevin mused with a smirk. “Is that why you’re thinking about it? Are you playing?”
I swallowed. “Not this time. But soon, I hope.”
“Practice went well this week?” Nathan asked, sliding the cookie sheet lined with pumpkin seeds into the oven.
“It did. No pain, full range of motion, good execution. They took it easy on me defense wise — no tackles,” I said. “But I feel good.”
“And Coach?”
My stomach bottomed out, like his piercing eyes were watching me even in that room.
“He’s wary,” I admitted. “But I think he wants me back out there, too.”
“He’d be dumb not to,” Uncle Kevin said. “He doesn’t want to be remembered as the coach who kept the future Tom Brady benched his senior year.”
The corner of my mouth ticked up, the closest I’d been to smiling in a week.
Our game tomorrow was against the South Hartford University Bulldogs, and their fans were the worst in our division. They were loud, rude, and ruthless — and they always got into our heads. Since it was an away game for us, I knew it’d be even more intense than when that motley crew traveled the two hours over to our stadium.
And I was gutted I wouldn’t be able to play, to make them shut their fucking mouths with every touchdown pass I threw.
“Soon,” Coach Lee had promised me in the locker room at the end of practice today. He’d called it early, wanting us all to get a good night’s rest before we got on the bus tomorrow. It was a late game, prime time, and everything inside me folded when he told me I wouldn’t be the one leading the team under those big lights.
“Can I say something mushy without you punching me?” Uncle Kevin asked as he slid the paring knife along the outside of a moon he’d carved into the pumpkin, giving it depth.
“No promises.”
He chuckled, eyes flashing up to me before he focused on the pumpkin again. “Your dad would be really proud of you, for how you’ve handled all this.”
I froze, heart skipping a beat before it picked up pace in my chest.
“It’s not easy, to be injured and have to support your team as a leader all the while working through your own complex emotions with not playing. It’s a testament to your maturity, Holden, and he would have been proud.” Uncle Kev swallowed, his eyes meeting mine. “I’m proud.”
My throat was tight as I nodded, unable to speak.
Joanne reached a pumpkin-covered hand up to my cheek, smearing the orange goop over my skin with a gurgling little laugh.
It broke the tension of the moment, and my uncles chuckled as I wiped my finger over the mess and tapped her nose with it.
It was only a few minutes, but it was the longest I’d gone without thinking of Julep.
Later that night when I got back to the Pit, I was thankful to find it empty. We always had an early practice on the Friday before a game so we could rest up, but I knew since bus time wasn’t until two tomorrow afternoon, a lot of the team was probably out, taking advantage of the rare time when we had an early night and a late report.
The Pit was almost eerie when it was empty, too quiet for comfort. But I savored it as a blessing, climbing the stairs to my bedroom to shower and change before I made my way back downstairs.
I was too wired to sleep, too distracted to try to study, so I flopped down on the couch and scrolled Netflix, trying to find something that would occupy my mind. I scrolled for about thirty minutes before I huffed and picked the first action movie I saw, hoping some guns and gore would be the cure.
As time passed, I slumped more and more into the couch, increasingly annoyed with how little the movie did to ease my suffering. I kept picking up my phone and pulling up Julep’s number, only to stare at our last few texts from weeks ago, write out a text, delete it, and close my phone again.
It was almost eleven when I decided I might as well just go upstairs and lie in the dark until I fell asleep. I stood, cracking my back with a twist left and right. Turning off the TV first, I went through the house and made sure doors were locked and windows were closed, knowing when the other guys came back drunk, they wouldn’t think to do it.
I reached up for the blinds of the large bay window that faced the street, the one that would be a perfect reading nook if we weren’t fucking animals. As it was, the beat-up cushion usually housed our dirty gym bags and cleats, an easy place to drop things when we came in the front door.
Before I could pull the blinds down, my eyes caught on the house across the street.
On Julep.
The only light on in the house was the living room one, and it was soft, warm, like the gentle glow of a lamp. I didn’t see Mary’s car in the driveway, so it didn’t surprise me when Julep came into view of the window a moment later, her hands hanging on her hips as she stared up at the pole in the middle of their living room like she was about to battle it.
With the lights out in our house, it made her even more clear, the dim silhouette of her body so crisp I could note the sheen of sweat lining her abdomen. I couldn’t make out the colors of any of the clothing she wore, only that there wasn’t much of it — just a high-rise thong that hugged the curve of her hips and a simple bra. It didn’t even look like a sports bra, but rather one she’d been wearing all day, as if she’d just walked in the door and stripped out of her clothes to immediately reach for the pole.
Look away, you perverted bastard.
I willed myself to close the blinds like I’d planned to, begged myself to leave her alone, to give her privacy, to remember that this was just fucking torture considering that I’d never touch her again.
But the masochistic part of me kept me rooted in place, heart thumping hard as I watched her launch herself onto the chrome.
It was mesmerizing, how easy she made it look as she pulled herself parallel to the pole before flipping upside down, her legs splaying out in a straddle. She held that shape for a moment before hooking one of her legs, and then her hands were free, and her silhouette hung from the pole in a blur of long legs and flowing hair.
She was wearing heels this time.
I marked the outline of them, how they lengthened her already-lean legs. I immediately thought of her that night at the party, how she’d worn heels then, how that tiny sliver of ankle had made me mad with the need to touch her.
I felt that tripled now.
I was in a trance as she flowed, and when she came back down to the floor, landing smoothly on her knees, she arched, rolling her body against the pole before whipping her hair. That sight nearly unraveled me. I thought I’d shred into nothing watching her on her knees, imagining what it would be like to be in place of the pole, to see her looking up at me with her legs spread wide.
I blinked, reaching up for the blinds again.
Close them. Shut this down now.
But I couldn’t.
And that’s when her head popped up, and she looked right at me.
I didn’t think she could see me at first, with all the lights in our house being out. Sure, the streetlights were on, but was it enough for her to see me standing here?
I held my breath, standing completely still as she stared directly at the window where I stood.
Julep walked over to her own bay window, leaning close enough to the glass that I could see the faint outline of her face. She stood there for a long moment, staring, but made no other sign that she saw me.
I waited for her to wave, or flip me off, but after a moment, she reached down to the coffee table beside her and grabbed a glass of water, nearly draining it. I saw her gaze go up to the top of the window next, and I wondered if she was about to draw her own blinds, to do what I didn’t have the strength to do.
But she hesitated, her chest still heaving from the exertion of her last flow.
Her eyes slowly trailed to my window again.
And then, her hands came to the front of her bra, meeting at the small piece of cloth in the middle of her breasts.
No, not cloth.
A clasp.
One she unfastened while I watched.
My next breath halted at the base of my throat, as if even it was afraid one little movement would scare her off. But fear was the last thing reflected in what I could see of Julep’s face as she slowly opened her bra, sliding a strap off her left shoulder and then her right. She let the fabric dangle from one finger before it dropped to the floor, and then she leaned forward, pressing her hands against the ledge of the window and using the streetlight to give me a perfect view of her breasts.
I bit back a curse as my cock twitched to life, growing achingly hard as she ran a hand up her rib cage to cup herself. She framed her nipple, rolling it between her fingertips, and then leaned down a bit more so I could see her face.
Her wicked smile.
She watched me for a long moment, or maybe she let me watch her. And then, she wiggled her fingers in a teasing wave and reached up for the blinds, pulling them down in one fell swoop that snuffed out the entrancing view of her.
I was still cemented in place when my phone pinged from the couch.
I ambled over, adjusting my cock in my sweatpants as I lifted the device and found Julep’s name on the screen.
Goodnight, Cap.
I shook my head, biting my lower lip.
And one thought played on repeat in my mind for the rest of the night.
I’m in trouble.
