63. willow
CHAPTER 63
WILLOW
NUMBER-ONE FAN
It wasn’t like I never saw King anymore, but now, I usually saw him when he was surrounded by people with whistles, marching him somewhere like they had to get his steps in. The most we talked was at night, with our phones propped on our pillows, but that only lasted as long as he could keep his eyes open, which wasn’t long with summer training.
Finally, we could embark on the activity all couples look forward to.
Vagina therapy.
I swung open the door to his truck and climbed in. "Afternoon, handsome."
"I was thinking, we don’t have to do this."
Confused, I buckled my seatbelt. "I don’t know what your thoughts are, but I’d like to have sex."
"I want to be a good boyfriend. I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do. We already figured out sex that works for us and if you’re unsure about this, we can wait, and?—"
"King. I want to fuck."
His eyes flickered to mine and back to the road. "Mm."
"I’m nervous—yes—but the more I think about it, the more I know this is the right decision." I nodded, mostly to myself. "I want to try. What I’ve been doing up to this point clearly isn’t working."
"Like the NASA intern."
" What? "
King fell silent.
"What did you say?" I asked, seriously unsure if I heard him correctly.
"Nothing."
"Tattoos?"
"The NASA intern." King shifted in his seat. "Didn’t work out."
My mouth fell open. "How did you find out about him?"
"Your dad told me."
That didn’t answer my question. In fact, that tripled the questions. "My dad? "
"Yep. He gave a rundown of every guy you handpicked for your roster. The NASA intern, the orchestra composer, the youngest doctor student whatever for the molecular biology award, the engineering guy who figured out some solar-power?—"
"Why are you and my dad— how are you and my dad?—?"
"You’re connecting with Lawson, I need to do the same with your dad."
"You’re doing that by asking about my nonexistent body count?"
"No. He brought it up." King’s lips twitched. "Dr. Pruitt’s trying to psyche me out."
If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve thought King was trying not to grin.
"And?"
"Well." He shrugged. "I mean…I won."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh my god."
"Up against a NASA intern too. Your dad told me how many paragraphs he sent you, begging to give him another chance. Or the orchestra composer who did the thing in the park?—"
My ears burned. " King. "
"Point is, I understand what your dad’s going for. He wants to show if it ends between us, you easily have options. But all I heard was, they lost, I won. They fumbled. I got the trophy."
"You’re such a dude," I groaned. "I can’t believe you’re talking to my dad."
"Yeah, he hates me."
"But I like you, isn’t that what’s important?"
"I thought about it. If I was in your dad’s place, I’d hate me too." He nodded. "Your dad’s going to like me. This is going to happen."
"King, that’s very sweet."
"Your number-one fan won for a reason."
"Number-one fan?"
"You don’t have a bigger fan than me."
"You’re eating my pussy. Doesn’t that disqualify you?"
He scoffed. "No. I was getting into message board fights before I saw you naked in person."
"Message board…?"
"There’s sites for lyrics and they have message boards where they debate the verses." He rolled his eyes. " Unidentified Flying Object goes ‘altercation’ not ‘alteration.’ Those morons were really trying to argue it."
"You did that?"
"Yeah. I’m banned from Stone Goliath Lyrics."
"Oh my god."
"It was worth it. Rainyforest78 can suck my dick."
I bit my lip, watching him. The man who was so incredibly smug. "So you know all of my lyrics?"
He nodded.
"You know all of my songs?"
He nodded again.
"How am I supposed to believe you?"
"I can complete any lyric you give me."
"You could sing them too."
"Uh…no."
"How do I know you know my songs?"
"I don’t sing."
"Everyone can sing."
"I didn’t say I couldn’t, I said I don’t."
"Why?"
"Because—look at me."
I sighed. "I guess you don’t know my songs."
"Willow, you don’t want to hear me sing."
"Hm."
"You don’t." He glanced over at me. "Don’t look at me like that. You’re the singer, I don’t call you on the field for burpees."
"Number-one fan status, retracted."
"Goddammit."
I shrugged. "I’m sure someone else will pick up the mantle."
" Goddammit ."
"You had a nice run while it lasted?—"
"Put on a fucking song."
I tried to bite back the smirk and failed. King’s truck was old, but the radio system was great and I grabbed the cord, connecting my playlist.
Two seconds into the song, he recognized it. "Oh, man. That’s my track. Mean Motherfucker. "
"Do you want a different?—?"
"Nope. That’s my track." King nodded along to the beat, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel. "Instrument part." He started making noises to the tune of the guitar, nodding along to the music. "Here’s the guitar lead up. You’re about to eat your words."
My mouth fell open when he shouted the lyrics. Like, actually shouting. Not even attempting to carry the tune, just yelling them as loud as he could.
" If he thinks he’s a dumb bitch, he’s correct! " he belted out.
I couldn’t stop laughing, it was so funny how seriously he took it. It was one thing to see King nodding along to a song in the crowd but another thing entirely to hear his husky voice bobbing over the notes. My sides were in stitches.
"Okay," I put my head in my hands with a groan. "You win."
"Number-one fan?"
"Number-one fan," I confirmed. "Can I record that next time?"
He laughed too and it was the two of us laughing, heading down the highway. I should’ve made him sing something earlier. It made my day.
Too soon we were at the one-story building in West Houston, with the prettiest garden out front, and a girl in the parking lot who put two and two together to realize she was actually here, actually going inside.
King pulled open my door, but I froze, still buckled. Not unwilling, just…a little anxious.
"Hey?" He rested his arm on the door. "We don’t have to do this."
"But I want sex."
"We have sex."
"You know what I mean." I chewed my bottom lip. "What if it doesn’t work out?"
"We’ll try another office."
"No, I mean, at all. What if I walk in there and they say ‘sorry, absolutely no sex, you are irrevocably broken and defective and something’s wrong with you that nobody could possibly fix.’"
"They’re not going to say that."
"What if it doesn’t work?"
"Then I jerk off on your tits and you ride my thigh until the end of time. Sounds good to me."
"You’d be giving up penetrative sex. Completely cutting it out. Have you thought about that? At all?"
King reached to unbuckle my seatbelt. I was still reluctant, but I let him pull me from the truck until he wrapped his arms around me, resting his chin on my braids, holding me close.
"Every morning I wake up earlier than you. Same in Austin. It doesn't matter how many alarms I set, it still happens, and I have to wait for you to wake up. There, it was ten minutes, here, it’s a couple of hours until you get to campus, and that time waiting for you is the worst part of my day."
A flush crept up my neck. "I’m not a morning person."
"I’ll take waiting that time, Willow. Every time. I’m not doing it because I’m counting down the seconds until I get to see your tits bounce. Which is fantastic, I’m not going to pretend like it isn’t, but I don’t just want you for sex. If that’s not in the cards for us, I’m not worried about it. Because I still won, and the prize is pretty fucking incredible."
"Oh." I leaned into him, all soft on the inside. "Thank you."
"You don’t have to thank me."
"I know but thank you anyway. You’re so supportive for…everything. My music, my moving decisions, my vagina? I’ve never had someone prop me up like you do."
"That’s awesome to hear you’re not just hanging out with me for sex."
"I mean, that’s the main reason, but the supportiveness is nice."
" Damn, " he muttered. "I knew it."
"You have a wonderful tongue."
"Thank you. I grew it myself."
I grinned, stealing another look at the clean walkway, welcoming me into the possibility of the sweatiest, filthiest, nastiest, bareback sex, with the man I was already head over heels for.
"Okay," I whispered. "Let’s do this."