Jock Row

She fidgets with her napkin. “It might be.”

I can feel my expression softening. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because we were just making out. I didn’t think it would be that…crazy. I didn’t think I would want to so fast.”

“That kiss was the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life.” It made my fucking toes curl—makes them curl now just thinking about it.

She stills. “It was?”

“Yes. My fucking mouth was tingling all night after that kiss.”

“Mine too.”

“And I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to, but I won’t lie and say it didn’t kill me to stop.” I run a hand through my hair. “You…”

Her eyes dart around the restaurant, checking to make sure no one idles nearby. Mouth puckers, sipping the soup off her spoon, and the round little O has me staring stupidly.

“I what?”

“Never mind.”

The last thing I want to do is start word-vomiting poetic bullshit at her. Not now. Not yet.

Everything that comes out of Scarlett’s sexy mouth has me squirming in my seat.

“I can be your sex camel,” I joke.

“My what?”

“It’s not ideal, but I could probably go a really long time before we have sex without dying, like a camel can go without water.”

“Oh my god Sterling.” She laughs. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I don’t want to wait—I’ve waited long enough. What I’m asking you is…are you okay with the fact that I’ve never slept with anyone before?”

I’ve never been anyone’s first before. The idea gets me excited.

“Why would I be disappointed no one has thrown their dick inside you before?” Is she being serious?

I also sit and wonder about what it will be like breaking someone’s hymen. Shit, that’s what it’s called right?

“You know I wouldn’t have any idea what I was fucking doing, right?” Do I handle her with kid gloves or just go at it?

“Don’t sit there and tell me with a straight face that you’re a virgin, too.” She snickers. “Because I’ve heard a few stories about you through the grapevine.”

“God no, I’m not a virgin.” I scoff. “But I’ve never, you know—had sex with one either.” How does that even work? “What if I fuck it up?”

“You won’t.”

“Jeez, what if it’s a bloody mess?”

The look on her face is priceless, and I wish I hadn’t said that last part out loud.

“I seriously cannot with you right now,” Scarlett practically hisses with a laugh. “Can you please you lower your voice before I hyperventilate?”

Lower my voice? We’re practically whispering already. “How much lower can it be?”

God she’s adorable when she’s embarrassed.

“Do I get to play doctor with you now? Doctor Wade, Sex Therapist has a nice ring to it.” The idea gets me excited.

“Like—you’d diagnose my virgin status?”

“Yeah, after doing a thorough physical examination.” I pause to think, all jokes aside. “After we get back from break, we can, you know…discuss it more?”

Scarlett nudges her bowl and mug aside, making room to rest her elbows on the table, leaning into me, rising up over the table.

“How much are you going to miss me over the break?”

“Honestly? Like fucking crazy.” More than I’ve ever missed anyone, and she’s still sitting right here in front of me. In fact, I’m guaranteed to spend the entire freaking vacation jerking off to the fantasy of Scarlett in nothing but snow boots, a lacey thong, and a winter hat—the one with the little gray puff on top. Goddamn it’s cute.

“We’re not going to see each other for an entire month.” I shuffle my feet against the wooden floorboards like an amateur, self-conscious and exposed. “How do you feel about that?”

“I’ve gotten so used to having you around.”

“I know.”

We study each other from across the table.

I study her, then rise out of my seat, planting a quick kiss on her lips. Sit back down and raise my hand so the waitress will see me and bring the check.

“Let’s get out of here.”

We make quick work out of paying our bill, mostly because I scared the shit out of the waitress before. She gets us cashed out quickly and we’re back in my truck within minutes.

On our way to her place, the stretch of silence between us comfortable, smiling stupidly at each other the entire drive.

When I pull up to her house, I put the car in park. Let it idle, radio playing quietly in the background, wanting to invite myself inside but not wanting to be pushy. Not after that sex talk we just had back at the restaurant.

Scarlett unbuckles.

Watches the road ahead of us, staring down the empty street, her backpack still in my back seat.

Finally, a car drives by slowly, and we both watch it pass before she speaks.

“Of all the people in this world I would have paired myself with, it would never have been you,” she says quietly. Slowly. Thoughtfully, tilting her head only slightly to glance in my direction. “You’re really wonderful.”

Jesus, my fucking heart—the little bastard—swells up. I’m not supposed to feel this way so fast—it’s been what, six, seven weeks? Thirty? Ninety? Feelings don’t happen this fast—not to me.

I’ve never fallen in love with anyone, ever.

Is that what this is?

These fucked up knots in my stomach and late nights spent staring at the bloody ceiling? Counting stars because I can’t sleep? Tossing and turning, checking my phone every goddamn second of every day we’re not together?

I can’t fucking believe it’s happening now.

With the girl from the front porch.

Cheeseball bastard.

Sap.

Take it slow, my brain tells me.

Run with it, and run as far as you can go.

I’m an athlete—a champion.

I play hard and jock harder, and these little games I’ve started with her?

I’m playing to win.

SEVENTH FRIDAY

“The Friday Before I Have to Spend an Entire Break Wanking Off and Jerking it to Porn.”

Rowdy

I didn’t realize those two weeks between Thanksgiving and the end of the semester would fly by so damn fast.

It doesn’t help that ninety percent of our time was spent cramming for finals, packing, and preparing to head home.

Luckily for my lips and dick, the other ten percent with Scarlett was spent making out on every surface of her house we could. Her place is the best, private. No roommates to interrupt or share her with.

My favorite spot to grope her is the kitchen; if I grab her by the hips, I can lift her high enough to plant her sweet little ass on the countertop, where she’s just the right height so I can step in between her legs…

I get turned on by the smallest things, too, like watching her make me a sandwich. Watching the nape of her neck as she stands at the sink. Observing her doing anything domestic gives me the biggest fucking boner.

Had me wedging myself more than a few times in front of her, scooping her up, wrapping her legs around my waist, and kissing the shit out of her.

God I’m going to miss her.

Somehow, I convinced her to stay until I have to leave—not that it was too hard. The second she started to protest, I kissed the argument right out of her. Took her to dinner and made staying a few more days worth her time.

And when I drive her home?

Every cell in my body is well aware that I’m not going to see her for thirty days.

My heart gives another squeeze, chest tight. Lump in my throat.

“Let me walk you to your door.”

A nod.

Her sidewalk is annoyingly short, and we’re at the front door in a matter of seconds. Scarlett pauses, back pressed against the doorframe, gazing up at me, she’s so damn beautiful.

“Want to come in?”

I want to—God knows I do. “I better not. If I come in, you know I won’t be able to leave, and I have to be up for my flight at three in the morning.” Not to mention a shit ton of other things to accomplish before I go.