Chapter 13 Tytus
Chapter thirteen
Tytus
On the way back to my room, I glance down every minute or so, confirming that there’s not a stain on the outside of my athletic shorts.
I came in my pants while Sawyer ground her sweet little pussy all over my lap.
Twice.
And now my boxers are glued to my thighs.
I was barreling toward a third orgasm before she freaked out and pumped the brakes.
Fucking brakes. Fucking line.
At least I got her there tonight. On my first try, too.
My dick doesn’t go soft after coming. Thank fuck for that. Staying hard that whole time really made an impact.
It’s just one more reason she was fucking made for me.
I unlock the door, and when I find Atty sitting at his desk, I silently curse.
“Hey, man,” he says, spinning in his chair. “Nice to fucking see you here.”
I grunt in acknowledgment. It’s the best I can do when I’m still experiencing flashbacks that include having his sister’s tits in my hands.
I really need a fucking shower.
“Where have you been?” he presses.
Blowing out a breath, I pull my shirt off with one hand. To give myself time to come up with a response, I crack my neck. The audible pop doesn’t grant me any relief.
“I saw you at practice this afternoon,” I remind him, choosing to dodge the question.
“Yeah, but I didn’t see you at all yesterday. Did you even sleep here last night?”
No.
Technically, I haven’t slept anywhere since Friday night.
I also can’t recall huge chunks of time on Sunday.
This weekend was the longest, darkest spell I’ve experienced in years. But it’s over now. And given my new arrangement with Sawyer, I doubt I’ll experience that low of a low ever again.
I walked around campus for miles. Found a trail through the woods with a pond. Stayed up late in the computer lab, researching. Figured out how to anonymously send blackmail porn. Then, when I suspected it had been intercepted, I pivoted and came up with a game plan.
Atty can’t know any of that, and I’m awful at lying to him.
So I ignore him, kicking off my shoes and tossing my shirt and socks into the hamper. I’ll leave my shorts on until I’m in the privacy of the bathroom.
Atty tips back in his chair and locks his hands behind his head. “The guys on the team were asking about you on Saturday night. You didn’t want to go out?”
I meet my best friend’s gaze with a hard glare.
He knows I fucking hate going out.
Unless his sister’s there.
Now that the season’s started, I won’t even have a drink.
What’s the fucking point?
With a sigh, he holds his hands up. “Are you in for the night? Do you want to watch something? I feel like we haven’t hung out in ages.”
Frustration builds in my chest, but rather than take it out on my best friend, I crack my knuckles and choke it back.
It’d be a hell of a lot easier to hold a casual conversation with him if I wasn’t running on fumes and covered in cum.
“I’m pretty tired, man.”
It’s not a lie.
“I think I’m just going to shower and crash.”
The hint of a scowl flicks over his features, but he schools the expression quickly. He rises to his feet, checks that the door is locked, and flips off the overhead lights, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow from the desk lamps.
“I meant to ask you,” he says casually as he wanders back to his desk. “Did you see that Sawyer was sitting with her boss at the game?”
Darkness flickers in my periphery.
“What’s that all about, you think?” He tilts his head. “You said the guy was a douche to her. Do you think they just bumped into each other? It’s sort of weird…”
He continues, but I can no longer make out the words.
I’m preoccupied with picturing Mercer Eden once again.
What he did. What he fucking took from me. How he gripped her hips. How he drilled into her from behind like an animal.
I wonder how many of his fingers I could saw off with a freshly sharpened skate before the fucker passed out. Would I need a hammer or another tool to sever the digits at the top knuckle? Or could I use the toe of the skate alone to—
“Ty.”
I blink. Force myself to swallow.
Bite down on the inside of my cheek until I taste blood.
When I blink again, coming back to the here and now, Atty’s face floats into focus.
His light brown eyes, so similar to Sawyer’s. The freckles barely visible against his tanned skin.
It’s the sick concern etched into the lines on his forehead and the pull of his eyebrows that warn me that I’ve really fucking done it.
I went dark again.
I dropped into it so seamlessly, I didn’t even feel it coming on.
“You’re slipping more often.”
The accusation isn’t harsh. It just… is.
“I’m fine,” I croak out, my gut twisting painfully.
I’m not.
He’s right.
But the darkness is more insidious when I’m tired. Triggered by stress. Change. Unexpected situations. Every goddamn thing, it seems.
It was easier to hide the depth of my darkness when I was fighting to make it to the light.
That’s what Sawyer is: My guiding light. My perpetual flame.
That fucking asshole tried to snuff her out and take her from me.
I put a stop to that, though. And now I’ve got her right where I want her.
She’s mine.
She’s going to stay mine.
The darkness will fade.
Everything will be better, from here on out.
With a slow, steady exhale, I look my best friend in the eye. “I’ve got it under control.”
Jaw clenched, he stares me down, like he’s wading through my bullshit, searching for the truth.
His concern is warranted but unwanted.
I hold his gaze, keeping my mask in place. “Now that we’re here and the season has started, it’ll all be okay.”
Now that he sees how deep I’ve let myself fall, I have to be careful about how I talk about Sawyer with him.
Atty’s never been scared of my demons. He’s stood by my side and held me up as I faced them.
But I can’t imagine he’ll be entirely unconcerned when I explain that Sawyer and I are finally together.
Will he be surprised?
Probably not.
But there will be apprehension there.
The last thing I need is for him to chirp in her ear or try to insert himself into our relationship when we’re still on shaky ground.
Once we’re solid, his concerns won’t matter.
But our arrangement needs time to take root first. I need her to admit to herself that she’s always been mine, just like I’ve always belonged to her.
Time.
We just need time.
We’re so fucking close. Finally on the right trajectory.
“I’m working on it. I swear,” I assure him. “We’ve only been here two months. I just need to adjust. Can’t plant a tree and instantly expect to enjoy its shade.”
It’s something his dad used to say all the time.
Understanding flickers across his face, the callback hitting as intended. He sags, his defenses lowering, and accepts me where I’m at.
“I just need a shower and a good night’s sleep,” I assure him.
With a nod, he turns back to his desk, leaving me to it.
I’m not okay right now, but I will be. For the first time in a long time, I sincerely believe that sentiment.