Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CAIRO
Astrid leaned against the Physics table, strands of her hair falling into her face. I averted my gaze away from her and took notes in my book to look busy. Ever since I had found out that she was dating Frasier—Frasier, for God’s sake—I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Did this morning mean nothing to her? Is she actually dating him? What does she see in a playboy like him?
Honestly, I had thought that if a good girl like her was going to date anyone in The Crew, it’d be Calix or me.
I desperately wanted it to be me. And only me.
“What is it?” Astrid whispered.
I snapped out of my trance, realizing that I had been staring at her again, and cleared my throat, my shoulders shrugging. “Nothing …” Just that you’re dating one of my best friends, even after our coffee date this morning!
With my pencil, I outlined all the diagrams in my textbook. The equations meant nothing to me right now, as I couldn’t focus. I hadn’t been able to focus since Mr. Gosche sat Astrid next to me a few weeks ago.
“We still doing coffee?” she asked, leaning closer, her breasts brushing against my arm.
“Coffee, huh?” I asked, stiff—everywhere. “Is that what you want?”
Astrid batted her lashes at me. “Of course. What else could I want?”
After drawing my tongue across my teeth, I peered back at my textbook. “I don’t think Frasier would like that much.” I balled my hand into a fist around my pencil. “Why don’t you get coffee with him tomorrow morning?”
When she scooted her seat closer to me, my dick twitched. Her thigh pressed against mine, along with her upper arm, the scent of her shampoo wrapping around me like a snake. “Are you jealous, Cairo?”
“Jealous?” I repeated. “Why would I be?”
“Because of this morning.” She nudged me. “You know, you can be honest with me.”
“About what?”
She looked back at her notebook. “About your feelings.”
My feelings? Like this ache in my chest whenever I think about her and Frasier after I spent time with her alone this morning? I can’t tell her about that! She obviously doesn’t care anyway …
“Feelings?” I scoffed. “For what? You?”
Ouch. That came out worse than I had expected.
The brightness in Astrid’s eyes faded, and she straightened herself out and tucked some hair behind her ear, turning back toward the front of the class. “Oh … yeah, I was actually just, you know … talking about your feelings for … how boring this class is.”
Fuck, I screwed up.
I turned back to the front and rubbed my arm. “You know how I feel about this class …”
“Do I?” she whispered.
I opened and closed my mouth a handful of times, then nodded. “The same way you do.”
“Oh, I don’t think so …” Astrid tapped her fingers. “You don’t know how I feel.”
Our gazes met for a moment, until we both looked away at the same time. I dropped my eyes to the textbook and stared at the pages with a handful of equations that I had learned last night, but seemed to forget about since Astrid had walked into the room.
“If you don’t want to get coffee again, it’s okay,” she said, playing with her fingers.
“I do,” I said. “But we shouldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Frasier.”
She shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “He doesn’t have to know.”
“He’s one of my best friends.”
“So?”
“So, I’m not going to do that to him.”
“He had no problem doing it to you.”
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“You know what it means,” she said, spitting my words back at me.
Frasier knew that I liked her—that all the guys in The Crew liked her, except maybe Rush, as I didn’t quite know what he was thinking most days—and still decided to make a move on her in a romantic way.
Fuck Frasier.
“You want to get coffee tomorrow?” I asked. “We can go.”
Astrid peered back at me, eyes wide. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Just us … by ourselves?”
“Just us.”
Underneath the table, she pressed her legs together. My dick twitched again inside my pants as I thought about how her mouth had felt around it this morning. I peered over at her, gaze dropping to her lips. She was such a good girl sometimes, a brat at other times.
I leaned closer to her and dropped my voice. “Only if you’re a good girl for me.”
A smirk crossed her face. “And if I’m not?”
“If you’re not,” I murmured, gently brushing my fingers over her exposed skin, “then we won’t get coffee anymore together.”
Suddenly, all the mischief was gone from her eyes. “How do I be a good girl for you?” she asked.
“You can start by”—I leaned my elbow on the table and moved toward her, tucking some hair behind her ear—“crawling underneath our table.”
One moment, she stared at me through wide eyes from above the table, and then the next, she was underneath it, tugging on my belt. I tensed and looked around to make sure that nobody was watching.
Holy fuck, I wasn’t expecting her to actually—
She pulled out my cock and wrapped her lips around my head. “Am I a good girl, Cairo?” she murmured, wetting it with her mouth. “Tell me I’m a good girl.” She sucked more and more of my dick into her mouth until she reached the base and choked softly.
When she came back up for air, my dick and her lips were covered in spit.
“Tell me I’m a good girl. Please, tell me I’m a good—”
I laced my hand into her hair and guided her back down onto my cock. “You’re a good girl, baby. You’re such a good girl for me.”