Chapter 20
Ten yards or so separated us. More than one head walked between us, making our line of sight of each other blink in and out. His expression darkened as if he were pissed or maybe just as angry-horny as I was, but he never stopped staring until our entire group was on them.
A series of “good game” went around, which Jack and Ty accepted graciously. Ty was in a good mood, laughing and cutting up with everyone. Jack even cracked smiles here and there, undeniably happy, and I really liked the look on him.
Their next game was that evening, which most of us stayed for as well.
Our group caught up with them again, and again, Jack actively avoided me.
The fifty different scenarios I’d rehearsed in my head, the congratulations, the compliments, even the bickering I’d imagined, wasted.
Every step I took closer made him turn or flat out run away.
Away from me.
I didn’t return to the tournament on Sunday.
Monday 7:01 AM
Are we pretending to still do this?
Princess
You’ve really got nothing? All tapped out?
There’s a shit ton and you know it, Princess.
Princess
Do I? Seem to remember some dipshit saying there was nothing to talk about.
How long are you gonna hold on to that one?
Princess
Rather me hold on to something else, like in the library?
How about I’d rather you stop treating me like stranger-danger at school.
Princess
What makes you think you deserve special treatment from me?
What indeed.
At our session on Monday, Trent informed us that these mandatory meetings were concluded.
“For real?” I asked, tone a little distressed. Sure it sucked since it was forced, but it didn’t suck as badly anymore. For at least two solid hours per week, I’d been able to sit near Jack, even look at him, and no one would question it.
“You sound a bit sad, Cal. Admit it, you liked these sessions,” Trent said.
The sessions? Hell, no. I only snorted in answer.
“Well, they’re over. Principal Woodson is pleased with the results, no matter if you two aren’t.
No more pranks have occurred, and the overall mood of the students is back to where it needs to be.
Now that the football season is over, we hope all of this rivalry business is well behind us.
The faculty will keep a close watch, of course, so this doesn’t get out of hand again.
Both of you are free to stop by anytime if you need to talk. ”
“The recommendation letters?” Jack asked.
Right. He’d said he’d do that for us.
Trent nodded. “I’ll be working on them. You boys get through the Leadership Camp, and we’ll see what’s what.”
Jack stood suddenly. “Cool. I’m out.”
I watched him go, the door closing completely behind him before I got to my feet.
“All right,” I said, not knowing what else to add. I wouldn’t tell Trent “thanks” or “good times” because it really hadn’t been.
The halls were mostly deserted as I left Trent’s office and headed to my truck.
Counseling sessions were over. The pranks had ended. From what he’d said this morning, I’d probably only been a distraction for Jack as Sasha had once been for me. Did this mean he’d stop messing with me? Would we stop texting too?
Fuck.
Not ready to face my preferred answer to either of those—and the high potential for a disappointing answer—I lugged a bag of old football equipment out of my truck and headed to the locker room to return the gear I’d never need again.
All was quiet. The stink of sweat and body odor lingered under the gallons of lemon-scented cleaners they’d used to kill the stench.
That constant smell heralding sports never bothered me and had grown into a comfort at some point.
I threw footballs into the bin with all the others and a practice jersey I’d taken home for some reason into the laundry sack, then stopped by my locker.
The tape at eye level was slightly curled at the end, so I picked at it until I could peel it off.
C. Winters was scrawled across it in thick marker, but this metal box was no longer mine.
I was sure someone else would come through here and take off the names in preparation for next year, but I didn’t want to wait for that. This chapter was closed.
The mental symbolism was a head rush. All the answers weren’t crystal clear yet, but for the first time in a long while, I felt more like me, like I knew who me might be.
Electric shocks crackled, some sixth sense needling my nerve endings with awareness of someone behind me. Not just someone—Jack. As silent as death and just as inevitable. Chillingly definitive, a ghost over my skin, I shuddered, and breath left me in a cold huff.
A large hand clamped onto my shoulder and spun me. Jack bodily shoved me against my old locker with a loud bang that echoed in the empty space, and then his mouth crashed into mine. We both let out a hungry hum as we opened to each other. Instinct. We knew what we wanted.
No words this time. No teasing or barbs to get at each other.
Jack rubbed his hips forward. I grabbed them and locked them to my own.
Our teeth hit, and our tongues wrestled. His soft lips contrasted with the prickle of stubble on his jaw. Amazing and consuming. Every second kept me off-balance and dizzy, but only in the most spectacular of ways.
I expanded my chest, in need of air I wasn’t getting, and rubbed his to the sound of a delicious moan.
He had a hand at my nape, and the other still on my shoulder.
I slipped mine toward his lower back, right at the top of his jeans.
God, I wanted his ass in my hands. Kissing was fan-fucking-tastic; touching him everywhere, tasting every inch of him, had to be even better, right?
The very second I inched my fingers lower, Jack grabbed my wrists and slammed them against the lockers. He didn’t stop kissing me, but the aggression was messing with my head. I wasn’t some weak-ass, but he made me hesitate.
Jack groaned, shoved a rock-hard thigh between mine, and ground against me.
His kiss fell from my mouth to trail down to my jaw, where he nipped, then lower to my neck, where he bit decidedly harder.
With my hands restrained, I couldn’t get to him, and he wasn’t letting up on his hold.
I was at his mercy. Honestly, it had been a halfhearted attempt, anyway.
Jack pushed one slow roll of his hips against mine and backed off.
“No,” I snapped when he moved even farther. He couldn’t leave. Not again.
He raised one brow, asking without words what I planned to do about it. The pressure on my wrists eased, and I went on the attack. Another bang reverberated in the room as I twisted us and pinned him against the lockers. God, I hoped no one was around.
I bit at every surface I could, his lips, jaw, ear, even his cheek. It was a sexual fight I didn’t quite understand but wanted. To soothe the sting, I licked over every mark I made.
He did the same.
Our hands and arms were in constant agitation as we grappled, him giving me the same lazy attempts I had earlier. When I managed to capture one piece of him or another, it was only to stroke and tease, not restrain.
By his bared teeth and hissing, it got to him.
In a moment of my distraction as he raked over the skin on my ribs with blunt nails, he pushed me off and turned us.
I was pinned again. Jack shaped my ass with his hands, squeezed, and moved his mouth to my neck, then sucked over my frenzied pulse.
It had to be beating against his lips as frantically as it pounded in my ears.
I curled my fingers around the belt loops at the front of his pants, holding on, bracing myself from his sensory onslaught, and shivered as I grazed his taut lower abs.
He hummed against my skin. Emboldened by his response to my touch, I shoved my hand inside his jeans.
Neither of us were small guys, and with them still buttoned, I had little room to maneuver and only managed to flatten my hand over the silkiest, hardest cock.
Heat flared up my arm and blasted into my lungs, making me gasp.
Pausing for a moment to make sure he wasn’t about to bolt, wasn’t about to leave us both frustrated as he had the times before, I opened my eyes and waited for his reaction.
Jack shuddered on a ragged inhale, then lifted his wide-eyed gaze to mine.
I’d never touched a dick that wasn’t my own. The logical side of my brain told me to expect the same thing as when I got myself off. The other side—the poetic, emotional, stimulated, and burning-with-desire side—agreed this was nothing like touching my own.
Jack’s surprise gave me the edge to back him against the locker again and work open the button on his jeans then lower the zipper.
As soon as there was more room, I closed my fingers around his shaft.
We moaned as one, so caught in this singular moment that meant so much.
So much, my lungs nearly burst in my chest with how much they expanded.
A few slow, dry strokes had Jack panting faster, gaining momentum with each one.
“We need to talk,” I said.
“Fuck you.”
I shoved my hand lower and cupped his balls—not to threaten, only to excite the way I liked it— slowly increasing the pressure until he gasped. “You wanna fuckin’ fight me now?”
Jack nodded emphatically, then bit the corner of his lip. “Uh, no. Yes. Whatever, just don’t stop.”
There was no stopping. He wasn’t storming off this time.
Jack whimpered in protest when I eased off him. Fuck, that was so hot. Far from weak, the sound was as desperate as my own heartbeat. Desperate for this to be real and not a dream.
Words, we needed to talk about shit, but I could hardly think beyond getting him off.
“Spit,” I ordered with palm lifted.
He did. Then I did.
The absolute lust that came over his face as I lowered my hand tightened my balls so much they ached with need. Doing this to him, and him so into it, was such a rush, the top of my head tingled.
I collected a drop of precome on the way, and when I closed my slightly wet hand around him again, we both sighed as if it were a homecoming. With my other hand, I rolled his balls and tugged.
The harsh lights overhead left no shadows on his upturned face. His pleasure, his need was as open to me as his pants. Jack bit his bottom lip and thrust into my grasp, fucking my fist as much as I was jerking him.
Unable to stay away, I nipped his jaw, then took his mouth when he faced me, swallowing his moans as I thumbed over his slit, circled his glans, and then rubbed just under the head. All things I liked, and my cock raged for action, any kind of friction, and drove me a little insane.
“This is … Crazy … We shouldn’t. Can’t stop …” I said, uh, some sort of rambling, between kissing and licking him.
Jack was right there with me too, nodding as if I’d made sense and licking my lips, sucking my tongue, scraping my jaw with his teeth.
“Fuck, Cal. Fuck. Fuck,” he breathed.
Heat bloomed in my hand as he thickened, hardened even more.
“You gonna come? God, say yes, ’cause that’d be so fuckin’ hot.”
“Yes.” He dug his teeth into his lower lip, turning it white.
“Yes.” The moment his hips turned jerky and off rhythm, it happened.
A deep groan rumbled in his chest. Jack had the presence of mind to lift his shirt right as white jets shot from his slit.
I gawked and milked his dick for every spurt, more entranced with each pump.
The pale ridges of his abs and chest were marked, as was my hand. Both of us stared at his body until our breathing slowed, and then we lifted as one to smile at each other, chuckling.
The sound died out, and with it, the moment.
Jack shoved me away, then jerked his clothes in place, not bothering to wipe the come from his skin, and shoulder-checked me as he marched off.
A-fucking-gain.
“Jack?” I called, but he didn’t turn. “Jack!”
What the hell?
“Never again, fucker!” I yelled, then slumped heavily on the bench near me and covered my face with my clean hand. This kiss-me-and-leave-me shit was already old, but now—it just fucking hurt. Sure, it was awesome, when it was happening, but the empty Jack-shaped space in front of me sucked.
“I won’t let you do this to me again,” I whispered the promise.