COLTON
Clay often says that having a face like mine can make women beg for my attention. Add my reputation and my spot on the hockey team, and the girls are ready to do anything to hop into my bed. The truth is, I’m picky. I don’t hook up with just anyone. I choose carefully, because if I go with the flow or join my best friend, I often end up disappointed. And I hate being disappointed after sex. It’s like a punch to the gut, a low blow to my confidence.
That’s exactly how I feel right now.
I close the door and head to the stairs. It’s eight a.m., and I need to get out of this house before anyone sees me. Making a girl cry right after I give her an orgasm? I’m not proud of myself, and I feel like a failure. I just wanted to get laid. To get rid of the stupid idea that crept into my head. To make the image of that freshman disappear from my mind.
There was no other reason for me to go home with my classmate Amy.
The situation I got myself in is another reminder why I don’t like having sex with girls I have known for a while. They all think if I finally decide to fuck them, it means I feel something for them, maybe even want a relationship. Colton Thompson doesn’t do relationships because he’s too fucked up to be present in one. No one knows that, obviously. They just think I’m a playboy who hasn’t met his other half yet.
My mood is so weird. The thoughts that keep resurfacing in my head are batshit crazy, and I need to do something with them. Canceling my visit was probably an unbelievably bad idea in the long run. I’m bored, and when I’m bored, I start to think—and that’s not fucking good for my stability. I need to hurry up; I want to get out of this fucking place as soon as possible.
I stop in my tracks. My eyes are glued to the girl coming down the stairs. The freshman is humming under her breath, swaying her hips as she moves effortlessly. Totally lost in her element, she smiles to herself.
Storming forward, I step into her line of sight. She freezes, meeting my gaze. Narrowing her eyes, she takes a deep breath and starts moving again, until she’s four steps above me. “Move.”
“Glad to see you’re safe and sound,” I mock, and her frown deepens.
A second later, it dawns on me. Loud music swims around her—she has her earbuds in, which means she can’t hear me.
What is it with me and this girl? She pushes my buttons, and I make a fool of myself each time I see her. I hate it.
I put my hand on the railing, blocking her way. I’m not letting her walk out of here until she…what? I don’t understand myself this time for real. Why the fuck can’t I let this go? Do I need to have the last word so badly?
“Move,” she repeats, louder this time. I grimace, reaching under her hair and snatching an AirPod out of her ear. She gasps, her eyes widening. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Making sure you hear me.” I involuntarily listen to her music—“acting like that” by MGK and YUNGBLUD roars through her earbud. I didn’t expect her to like this kind of music. She doesn’t seem the type.
She rolls her eyes. “What?”
“I’m glad to see you safe and sound,” I say. In all honesty, it bugged me a little that I kicked her out of the party late at night. Drake’s words found their way under my skin, making me feel bad about myself. I am a moron, but not a heartless one. At least, I hope not.
“You didn’t care about my safety when you threw me out of the party.” She extends her palm. “My AirPod. Please.”
My eyes roam over her face, which is totally makeup-free. Her hair is a bit disheveled, and she looks…I don’t even know how to explain it. She looks satisfied. Even her skin is glowing. Memories of the moans I heard from the floor above Amy’s room sound in my ear. Was it her and Drake? He lives upstairs. And he never returned to the party after he left to find her. Putting two and two together, I purse my lips tighter.
“Why are you sneaking away so early?” I ball my fist and hide her earbud in it. “Don’t you like morning cuddles?”
She blinks long and hard, but it’s not the reaction I expect. She doesn’t look embarrassed. Her face doesn’t show even the slightest change in emotion; she’s totally unbothered. “Cuddles with who?”
“With the guy you spent the night with.” I lean on the railing, propping myself on my elbow. I gape at her, ready to see her blush, but it doesn’t happen. “With Drake,” I add to make it clear that I know her secret.
She shakes her head, a smile curling her lips. “I slept in Drake’s room, not with him.” She steps down, and her tits are now at eye level. I swallow with difficulty because her breasts are all I want to look at, even if they are hidden under her crop top. “My AirPod, now.”
I clear my throat, lick my lips, and tear my gaze away from her chest. “Do you really think I’m stupid?”
“I barely know you,” she murmurs, taking another step down, “but something tells me that yes, you’re stupid.”
It’s the third time I’ve seen her, but she has managed to piss me off like no one ever has. Her disobedience and her wittiness drive me insane. “He ran after you and never came back, and now you’re strolling down the stairs from his floor at eight. No one sneaks away that early if they don’t have anything to hide.”
“What are you hiding then?” She cocks an eyebrow. “Why are you sneaking away this early? Don’t you like cuddles?”
“That’s none of your business,” I bark, gritting my teeth. She breaks into laughter. “I have places I need to be.”
“Of course.” She walks around me, stopping in front of me. I lower my eyes and watch as she tucks her hair behind her ears. “Give me my AirPod and I will be out of your way, just like you want.”
I hold her gaze. My breath quickens as I fidget in place. Then the realization hits me: I want her, and that makes me aggravated. I won’t touch her. The feeling of her skin still lingers on my palms. I remember how soft it was. I swallow the lump in my throat, confused by my own emotions. It’s not right. Any of it.
She extends her palm again, and this time I throw her AirPod into it. I have no idea why I even took it in the first place. She hides it in her belt bag, shakes her head a little, and starts walking down the stairs. I stay behind, watching her in silence. There is something about her—I don’t even know how to explain it. I feel different when she’s around, and I don’t remember ever experiencing anything like it.
I slap my cheeks hard, bringing me back to my senses. What the hell am I doing? Gawking at her? Am I for real? I follow her, walking quickly to catch up with her.
“Does Layla know you slept with her brother?” I ask as she opens the door. It’s the same question I asked Drake. Even the circumstances are similar.
She huffs, walks down the steps, and only then turns around to face me. “I haven’t slept with Drake.”
“That’s hard to believe.” I hide my hands in my pockets. “A lot of girls dream about being with him.”
“I’ve known the guy since I was a child. He has always been there for me. Always. He cares about me, just like he cares about his sister.” She sighs in exasperation. “You’re trying to make something out of nothing.”
“So you just spent the night with the guy, alone in his room, and nothing happened?”
“I don’t even know why I’m having this conversation with you. I don’t owe you anything, but I’ll say it once more, just for Drake’s sake.” She steps closer, looking up at me. “If you think that a girl can’t spend a night alone with a guy without something happening between them, then that’s who you are. You measure people against yourself, and not everyone is like you. Remember that. I have known Drake since I was a toddler. I have spent night after night at his place. I have hung out with his sister and him alone more than once. He’s family.”
She spins around, walking away from me. Her head is high, and her posture is relaxed. I’m sure she lied; I don’t have even the slightest doubt. Yet her ability to hide her emotions is impressive. I could learn a thing or two from her, even if I’m the most closed off person on the team. She’s on another level.
I stay put; my eyes are trained on her body. She looks so damn fine it hurts. I feel my dick hardening in my pants, and it makes me angry. I don’t like what she makes me feel. I’m not used to these emotions, the never-felt-before emotions. They stir me in the wrong way. I need to do something about her.
Turning on my heel, I walk in the opposite direction. My apartment is twenty minutes away on foot, and it’s a blessing. I need this time to collect myself, or Monday will be a catastrophe.
When I decided to cancel my appointment, I thought I did myself a favor. Seeing her in the state she is in is pure torture, and I needed a break from it. For my own mental health. For my own future. Now? I’m sure it was a mistake. Next Sunday, I will be there, ready to see her. Ready to talk to her about my days, even if she doesn’t remember a thing afterward. I will be there, just for me.
