32. Gavin
GAVIN
“I’m sorry. I lost track of time.” Violet enters my room, dropping her backpack onto the floor.
“It’s fine.” I take a break from packing and sit on the bed. “I didn’t think I was going to get to see you before we left. I sent you like a stalker amount of texts.”
She walks over to me and stands between my legs. “I know. I just saw them. I forgot to turn my phone back on after class, and then I stopped by the bookstore to get some new sketch pencils. Then I was thirsty and went by the café to?—”
I place a kiss to her lips, silencing her. “I’m just glad you made it. I have to be at the bus in half an hour.”
She wraps her arms around my neck. “Oh no. I don’t have enough time to make a glitter poster with your name and number on it.”
“Next time.” I widen my stance and pull her closer. “Tell me how it went. Was Penelope really here?”
“How’d you know?” she asks.
“People were talking about it all over campus.”
“She was,” Violet confirms.
“And?” I squeeze her. The suspense is killing me. I think I’ve been as nervous as her all day long. “Did she pick your dress?”
“No.” She frowns, and then quickly replaces it with a smile. “But she picked Dahlia’s, so it was the next best thing.”
“Ah, shit. I’m sorry.” I was so sure she’d win.
“It’s fine,” she insists.
“It’s all right to be disappointed. You spent a lot of time on it.”
“I’m trying really hard not to feel anything right now. I don’t want to go home and make Dahlia feel weird. She should be celebrating and not worrying about hurting my feelings, which is what will happen if I walk in looking upset. She worked just as hard.”
“You’re a good friend.”
She lets out a little sigh. “I’m trying.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. I’m going to lock myself in my room tonight and let myself feel really crappy, and then tomorrow, we’re going out to celebrate Dahlia, and I’m going to be her number one supporter. I am really happy for her.”
“I know you are.”
Her face lights up with a little of her usual sparkle. “Stop worrying about me. You’re the one about to go play the most important game of your life.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” I chuckle.
She presses her chest to mine. “You are going to be great. I might even watch my first college basketball game.”
“You pierce my soul, Violet Johnson.” I place a hand over my heart as I recite the words from the Persuasion quote hanging above her bed and grin.
Her eyes flare with heat. “You keep talking like that and thirty minutes won’t be enough time for me to kiss the crap out of you. You’ll miss the bus, and your coach will be pissed, your teammates will hate you, and?—”
I slant my mouth over hers and, as she’d put it, kiss the crap out of her.
Violet climbs onto my lap and straddles me. She tugs at the hem of my T-shirt and we break apart briefly, so I can remove it. She pulls her tank top over her head and then throws her arms back around my neck.
I think knowing we have a time limit and that we’re going to be apart for days, maybe a week, has us both eager to make the most of every last second before I leave.
My hands roam down her back as she runs her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck.
Somewhere in the brain I’m not currently using, I know I don’t have time to get involved in a hot make-out sesh, but I slide the straps of her bra down anyway.
She leans back as I drop kisses to her collarbone. I palm her tits over the lacy material and kiss the top of her cleavage that’s peeking out. Violet reaches around and undoes the clasp, making the material fall into my hands.
She pushes me back onto the mattress, stands and removes her skirt and panties.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous. Every inch, from the top of her shiny black hair to her purple toenails.
Swift fingers hook into the waistband of my athletic pants. We push them and my boxers down together, past my hips, and Vi pulls them all the way off and tosses them into a pile with the rest of our clothes.
Before I have time to figure out what’s happening, she’s back straddling me. I groan into her mouth and tangle one hand into her long hair.
“Do you have a condom?”
I freeze and open my eyes to stare into hers. “Vi, we don’t have to.”
“I want to. Do you not want to?”
I cock a brow. “Of course, I want to, but?—”
She steals my trick, kissing me to shut me up.
I know there isn’t enough time for all the things I want to do, but I start by flipping us, so I’m on top. Her chest rises and falls with labored breaths.
“You’re so beautiful.” I run a finger down her neck, and she arches into my touch.
I kiss her shoulder, her elbows, all the way down to her ankles. I kiss her everywhere, except the places she wants. When I nip at her hip bone, she whines my name.
Chuckling, I link an arm under one of her legs and cover her pussy with my mouth. It happens so fast, she isn’t prepared, and she cries out, her shoulders coming off the bed.
I tighten my hold as I lavish her in slow licks and soft kisses that have the hottest sounds escaping her lips. It isn’t enough. Not for either of us.
I leave her, only long enough to get a condom and cover myself.
“Are you sure?” My pulse races.
She nods and licks her lips. “I’m sure.”
Eyes locked on hers, I push in an inch. Her lashes flutter closed and her mouth curves. I slide in slow, filling her completely. Her pussy is squeezing me so tight.
My lungs feel like I’ve run a marathon. I don’t have space to breathe or think. Sweat beads on my forehead and my muscles burn.
“You feel so good.” I bury my head in her neck and breathe her in.
I stay there, unmoving, enjoying the sensation of being connected to her this way until her nails softly rake down my shoulders. I pull out an inch, then two, and drive back into her.
Thirty minutes feels like enough time to do this a dozen times at the rate my body is reacting to hers.
“I forgot how big you are,” Violet says, voice trembling.
“I love it when you whisper sweet nothings.”
She laughs. “That was sweet?”
“Straight out of Jane Austen. I’m thinking of hanging it above my bed.” I grin down at her.
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?” I reach between our bodies and drag my thumb along her clit.
“I’m not even sure of my name right now.”
She brings her lips up to mine. I move faster, eliciting more of those sexy as fuck sounds from her.
“I’m close,” she says on a moan.
I pound into her as a tingling sensation works its way down my spine. Violet cries out as her orgasm hits, and I chase mine until I see stars behind my eyes.
I fall onto the bed beside her as we catch our breath. I changed my mind again. Thirty minutes isn’t nearly enough time.
Noah yells from the hallway, “Five minutes, boys.”
I get up and get rid of the condom. Violet stands and starts to dress, but I grab her around the waist to kiss her again before she tries to escape.
“You’re going to be late.”
“They probably won’t leave me.”
I can’t stop touching her and kissing her. My dick is already growing hard again. I bite her neck and whisper, “Mine.”
She giggles, and I keep going, dropping more little nibbles all over her body and claiming her.
“Time to go!” Noah yells.
“You have to go.” Violet extracts herself from my hold and tosses my T-shirt at me. “Get out of here, boyfriend. I’ll still be yours when you get back.”
I bite her one last time. “To be continued.”
Reluctantly, I get dressed. She does the same and then sits on the bed while I double-check that I’ve packed everything. Her smile hasn’t dimmed, but I know she has to be bummed about the whole Penelope situation. She worked her ass off on that dress.
“I’m sorry about your design. You’ll have other chances. Someday, people will be lining up to have you create a custom dress for them. I know it.”
“Thank you.”
I brush my lips over hers. I’m definitely going to miss the bus if I keep kissing her.
“Leonard!” Noah yells.
“I really have to go. I’ll text you later.”
“Good luck. I’ll be watching.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Did I not mention the celebration was at The Hideout? From the sound of it, half the university is going there to watch the game.”
“You can take your glitter sign.” I grab my bag, and Violet walks out with me.
We’re already late, so I don’t have time to kiss her again before Noah drags me away.
“Good luck,” she calls as I jog across the street. Then adds, “To be continued.”
We arrive at the Sweet Sixteen later that evening. The tournament sets up a buffet to feed us and then we meet Coach in the practice space they’ve designated for our team.
He gives us a quick pep talk before instructing us to shoot around to shake loose the nerves and stiffness from traveling.
No matter how many courts I play on, every time I step onto a new one, I feel like I’m five years old, standing at half court and staring out into the crowd in awe.
We head up to our rooms early. We have a seven o’clock wakeup call and are nonstop with media, team and individual meetings, and practice to warm up and shake off the nerves before a six o’clock game. It’s going to be hard to sleep tonight with all the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
I pull out my phone as I get off the elevator, our team’s rooms are on the eighth floor, and send Violet a quick text. Just getting to my room. Whatcha doing?
She sends a picture of her in bed with some sort of cream on her face. She’s holding her laptop up, so it’s visible in the picture. I can’t tell exactly what movie it is, but it’s something historical.
I’m smiling and tapping out a reply, which is why I don’t see the man standing in front of my door until I look up to check the room number.
I freeze. “Dad?”
“Hey, Gavin.”
“What are you doing here?”
A few of my teammates are walking by, heading to their rooms on the same floor. They gawk at the sight of my father.
Dad lowers his voice. “Can we talk in your room?”
I let us inside. I hadn’t expected to see him here. Not after I declined the father/son interview.
I flip on the light and grab a water from the fridge. Dad lingers in the doorway, shuffling from foot to foot uncomfortably.
“You wanted to talk, so talk.”
This hotel suite feels too small for the both of us, and Noah will be back any minute.
“Big game tomorrow. How are you feeling?”
“Fine. We’re ready.”
“Oregon is quick. They like to rebound and run. And their defense is tough. You’ll need to keep your heads and play good D to keep them quiet.” He takes a step farther into the room.
“What do you really want?” I ask. My tone is bored, even though my pulse is racing. “You didn’t come all the way here to give me pointers.”
“You said no to the interview.”
He waits for an explanation that I don’t give him.
“You know, I wanted to be a doctor when I was a kid.”
I shake my head. “No, I didn’t know that. What does that have to do with you showing up here to try to convince me to do some bullshit interview that I don’t want to do?”
Instead of answering me, he continues his jog down memory lane.
“Your grandpa Leonard didn’t want me to go to the NBA.
When I got to high school and people started talking about college and beyond, I mentioned that maybe I’d like to play professionally.
It was an off-handed comment, one I didn’t really think was possible at the time.
He went nuts. To him, basketball was fine as a hobby, but he didn’t think it was a serious career.
Too much risk. So he pushed me toward medical school.
God, we must have had a million arguments about it my junior year.
He’d leave those paper brochures for colleges with outstanding medical programs on my desk, and he stopped asking about my games.
It built a lot of tension between us. I resented him for it.
He was the only one not encouraging me to do this big, scary thing, and it made me feel like he didn’t think I was capable of doing it. ”
Dad sighs. “I loved playing basketball, don’t get me wrong.
Maybe I would have gone to the NBA anyway, but I’m one hundred percent certain that, at the time, I did it just to piss him off.
To prove that I was good enough because he didn’t believe in me.
Don’t make the same mistake I did. Pick for yourself, not to punish me. ”
I swallow around a lump in my throat. “That’s not what I’m doing. I’m not you.”
“No. You’re not.”
The door to my room opens, and Noah steps in. When he sees my dad, his eyes widen. “Mr. Leonard.”
“Hi, Noah.” Dad puts on his fan smile.
“Am I interrupting?” Noah asks, gaze darting between us. “I can come back.”
“No. We’re all done here,” I say.
Noah isn’t an idiot. I’m sure he can sense the tension between my dad and me.
Dad’s smile falls, but he adjusts it, then addresses Noah. “Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Mr. L.”
My dad goes to the door and then meets my gaze across the room. “The choice is yours, son, but make sure you’re choosing from your heart. Chances like this don’t come around a second time. The worst thing in life is to sit around asking yourself what if.”