Chapter 11
ETHAN
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. Nothing like that.” Jett shakes his head. “Forget I said anything.”
He stalks off to the library’s reception desk, and I hurry after him.
There’s still a couple of private study rooms available, and we take one of the offered keys and head upstairs. There’s a crowd of students in the main area, but we bypass them and head down the narrow hallway.
“What did you mean by compatibility?” I ask. “Did he want to try stuff you weren’t into?”
“Forget I said anything,” Jett whispers. “And keep your voice down.”
“What’s the big secret? It’s sex. This is college. It’s the number one topic of conversation.”
“Drop it.”
Jett unlocks the door and ushers me inside.
“I’ll tell you about my sex life,” I offer.
“I like variety, for a start. I don’t do commitment, but I’m open and honest about it.
Everyone I fuck knows that it’s just sex.
I’ve had a couple of threesomes with women, but I prefer one on one.
I’m an attention whore that way, but you already know that. ”
Jett makes a strangled noise in his throat as he takes a seat.
“Can we talk about Welcome Day? That’s why you came to see me this morning.”
I wave that off and sit down beside him, nudging his knee with mine.
Normally I prefer big crowds and lots of people, but when I’m with Jett, one-on-one, I’m content in a way I rarely am around others.
I’m not bored. Far from it. I want to know everything about him, and I could listen to him talk all day. Strange, but true.
“We have plenty of time for that later,” I reply. “Why did your sex life with Renner suck?”
“I didn’t say it did.”
“You did too. Only you used a fancy word for it.”
I get Jett’s middle finger for my sarcasm.
“Come on.” I offer my fist for him to bump and Jett stares at it like it’s contaminated. “You can tell me. Your secret is safe. Swear on my hockey stick.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m not disputing that. But unlike your scuzzy ex, I can be trusted.”
Jett’s gaze is unnervingly direct, and my heart starts to pound furiously.
“Can you?”
“Ask any of my friends.”
It’s the truth. I may act silly and prefer flirting to serious discussions, but I protect my friends and their secrets.
Jett finally bumps my fist and leans back in his chair as he continues to study me.
“I can’t believe I’m going to say this to you of all people,” he admits.
“Told you I’d win you over.”
“Shut up.”
I laugh at his put-out tone.
“So? Come on, give me the deets. Maybe I can offer some advice?”
“Doubtful.” Jett lets out a long sigh. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Yes. Talk it out. You’ll feel better.”
“Well, the fact is, Renner wanted to top, but I wasn’t ready for anal sex. We’d do other stuff, but he was never satisfied, and he made it clear that he was getting frustrated. He kept pushing for it, but I always said no.”
Ah.
“So, you’ve never—”
“Nope,” Jett adds. “And before you ask, and I know you will, yes, I want to.”
“But not with him?”
“No. And I can’t explain it, but that’s how I felt.”
I lean forward and rest my forearms on my knees.
“That’s your intuition talking. You didn’t trust him. Maybe your big brain took a while to catch up, but on some level, your body knew all along.”
He sighs.
“You’re right. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but it’s true.”
“I hate the fact that he kept pressuring you to do something you weren’t ready for. What a fucking prick.”
I reach out and tap Jett’s knee. It’s like touching a live wire, and I pull my hand back from the shock.
“The right guy will respect you and your feelings. Don’t ever compromise on that.”
Jett nods and licks his lips, and suddenly I want to taste them again. I want to kiss away the tension that’s riding him.
Riding him? More like riding me.
I’m the one getting in over my head. I want Jett, but it doesn’t feel like simple lust. It’s way more complicated than that. I like him too.
Oh, fuck no. No, no, no.
Panicked, I reach for my phone. I’ve got a few messages from my friends, nothing that can’t wait, but still, it offers the perfect excuse.
“I gotta leave.” I stand up so fast I knock my chair over. “Sorry, I forgot I have a study session before my first class.”
Jett says nothing while I head for the door.
“We’ll talk about the Welcome Day stuff tonight, okay? I’ll call you.”
“But what—”
I’m gone before Jett can finish his sentence. I feel like total shit, but I’m freaking out, and I need to get out of here before I do something stupid—like kiss him or touch him or tell him I want him.
I make a beeline for the stairs, and I’m back outside in a few minutes where I can finally breathe again. Pulling out my phone, I start typing a text to Dane, but then I freeze. I don’t know if I can explain what’s happening. Not even with one of my closest friends.
Instead of waiting around being anxious, I head for my class.
I’m an hour early, but I don’t care. Sitting on a bench outside the lecture hall, I palm my phone and debate texting Jett.
Even though I freaked out and ran, I don’t want him to think it had anything to do with him or what he confided to me.
Ethan: Sorry I left so abruptly. It had nothing to do with you or anything you said.
I just can’t handle my feelings.
I wait for a response but there’s nothing. Minutes pass and every single one feels like an hour. I’m about to call him when I see three dots appear on my screen.
Jett: Are you okay?
Ethan: Yeah, I forgot I had to do something, which happens a lot with me. Like I told you, sometimes I’m all over the place. I have a hard time managing my time. And I tend to overreact when I realize I’ve fucked up. But it’s all good.
Jett: Alright. I understand.
Does he? Jett has no freaking clue what I’m thinking or feeling. Even I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to explain it.
Ethan: Let’s skip the call tonight. We have a meeting with Dane and the organizers on Friday. We can chat about Welcome Day then.
Jett: That works for me.
Of course it does. He’s probably relieved to be rid of me. After all, I’ve been pestering him for days. Weeks. Jeez, am I acting like his scuzzy ex? What am I doing?
Nothing. I’ll do nothing. This will be the end of it.
My phone stays silent. Since I’m bored now, and I’ve got time to kill before my lecture, I tap on my photo album and start scrolling through my pics.
I’ve got a shitload from Silas and Damien’s recent wedding, and of course there’s a ton of Jett in there.
I delete or crop the ones that have Renner, who was the volunteer photographer, in them.
I don’t need to see his annoying face. I’ve also got snaps that some of my fellow students took during our soccer game, and there’s plenty of Jett in those too.
For the next hour, I get busy studying. No, not for my economics class.
I’m memorizing every angle of Jett Hawthorne. So much for letting it go. I’m fixated when I’m on the ice, but now it seems that’s playing out with my newest friend. Or not friend? I have no idea what Jett and I are. I’ve never reacted to anyone like this before, and I don’t know what to make of it.
Then I take it a step further and open my social apps.
I search for Jett and follow him on every platform I can find.
Most of his content is about rowing, his training routine, practices, and video clips from the Crew’s races.
Fuck, he’s a sight to watch. He makes it look so easy when I know it’s not.
Outside of rowing, there’s tons of pictures of his ranch in Nevada.
The Silver Feather is wild and beautiful, with endless skies and desert colors that are so saturated they look like they’re painted on.
One photo in particular snags all my attention.
Jett’s standing in what looks like the entrance to a stable; he’s laughing and the angles of his gorgeous face are highlighted by the sun.
He’s looking at the camera, but I swear he’s staring straight at me.
With one hand on his horse’s saddle, Jett’s pose is casual, but his gaze is anything but.
Those gorgeous green eyes of his should be illegal.
I’m pretty sure I’m drooling as I track over every inch of him, from the tips of his dirty boots to the dusty cowboy hat perched on his head.
The final kicker? He’s wearing leather chaps that hug his hips.
All kinds of filthy images bombard me as I picture him wearing leather and nothing else.
Shit, that’s hot. I already know I’m going to be wanking off to his photo tonight.
End of it, my ass.
“Hey, you. Want some company?”
I startle out of my lusty headspace to find my former hookup, Willow, staring down at me.
Her long brown hair is tied in a braid, and she’s got a tight T-shirt on that showcases her full tits.
She’s hot and fun in bed, but my interest in her now is nada.
I reason it’s because I stick to one and done, and she and I are done.
That’s all. Surely it has nothing to do with the fact that I’m obsessing over a guy for the first time in my life.
“Hey.” I nod. “Uh, sure.”
Instead of sitting down, she stares at me like I’ve grown two heads.
“Are you feeling okay? Your face is so red.”
I sit up and run a hand over my jaw.
“I came from the gym. I had a hard workout.”
Not yet, but definitely later. Me, my hand, and my dick. The workout of champions.
Willow smiles and takes a seat beside me, her thigh touching mine. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea, so I scoot down the bench a bit in the opposite direction.
“That explains it,” she replies as her gaze maps my body. “You haven’t texted since that night you cancelled on me.”
“I’ve been super busy.”
I’m such a liar. I’m never too busy for sex.
“What about this weekend? Are you having a party?”
“The usual Saturday thing,” I explain. “We can hang out. As friends. But that’s all.”
Last semester, I might have chanced it and fucked her again. But now I have zero interest, and it’s got nothing to do with worrying I’ll mislead her. It’s because I don’t feel anything, not even a lick of desire.
She starts to laugh.
“Relax, Ethan. I don’t have any interest in dating you; I just like having sex. But if you’re not interested in a hookup, that’s cool. Friends it is.”
Willow pats my leg and stands up.
“See you Saturday?” she asks.
“See you then.”
She saunters off down the hallway, and I know I’m fucked when I don’t even check out her ass.
Instead, I go back to perusing the photos of Jett.
His ranch life is fascinating, and if I’m honest, a bit intimidating.
Large animals like horses freak me out. Not that I’d ever admit it to anyone, except under duress.
I’ve never ridden a horse, never mind taking care of a whole stable of them.
Jett makes it look easy, but I’m sure it’s not.
And it’s probably best that I stop obsessing over this guy and get my head back to where it needs to be.
Classes and hockey, remember them?
Whatever I’m feeling, I’m sure it’s temporary. I bet that if I kissed him once, I’d be over it. Done. My curiosity would be sated and so would I. It would be a monumental mistake, and I’d never want to do it again.
I glance at the photo of Jett’s smile.
Yeah, I don’t believe me either.