12. Kellerman
Sophomore Year of College
“Would you put your clothes on?”
Stephen grins and plants his hands on his hips. “What’s the matter, Kellerman? You getting turned on by the sight of my magnificent dick?”
I spin around and set down the to-go cup on his nightstand.
His dick is magnificent, but I’d never tell him that.
“Nothing wrong with admitting it,” he continues. “I’m secure enough in myself to tell you that you’ve got a nice cock too.”
I choke on my spit as my head whips around to glare at him over my shoulder. “Why are you looking at my cock?”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Like I said, it’s nice. Nothing wrong with appreciating a nice cock when you see one.”
My skin heats. “Yeah, well, maybe you should keep those thoughts to yourself.”
“Why the fuck would I do that? You see something you like, then you should let them know. Life is too short to keep your feelings bottled up.”
“Just shut the fuck up and get dressed.”
But he doesn’t shut the fuck up.
Nor does he ever.
“You know, that’s your problem. You’re stuck inside your own head, always worrying about what people will think.”
I roll my eyes and pull on my jeans. “I don’t care what people think.”
We both know it’s a lie, but Stephen doesn’t call me out on it. “Another black coffee? You’ve had two today already. That shit’s bad for you.”
“It’s not coffee.”
He opens the lid on the cup and inhales. “This smells like hot chocolate.”
“That’s because it is.” I sift through the shirts in my closet, keeping my back to him.
“Since when do you drink hot chocolate?”
I grunt. “I don’t. It’s for five-year-olds.”
He pauses. “You got this for me?”
“I was passing the place you like, so I grabbed one for you.”
For the last year, Stephen has pushed every single one of my buttons—some buttons I didn’t even know I had—trying to get me to snap, to get me to blurt out something, to get me to tell him what he has somehow figured out, because he reads me like an open book.
Honestly? He’s wearing me down. Aside from the fact that he’s relentless, I’m starting to run out of reasons why I can’t tell Stephen that I’m into men in addition to women. And why shouldn’t I tell him? He’s bisexual too. He won’t judge me. He won’t berate me, or shun me. If anything, it’d bring us closer together.
But therein lies the problem.
I’m scared of getting close to Stephen McKinley. He’s charismatic and outgoing and lovable, and everyone gravitates toward him. I can’t allow myself to give in to the temptation of him. And fuck am I tempted by him. How easy it’d be to get wrapped up in all that he is. But I’m not good enough for someone like him. We’re too different.
He’s joy, and I’m sadness. He’s a symphony, and I’m silence. He’s sunshine and I’m the rain cloud that ruins it all.
So instead, I push him away...at least, as much as I can for someone who sleeps in the bed next to mine, and plays on the same team as I do.
I yank a black T-shirt off the hanger, but Stephen steps into my space before I can pull it over my head. His fingertips graze over the hummingbird etched onto my skin just below my collarbone. “What does this mean?”
“My mother loved hummingbirds.”
Stephen’s eyebrows lift. “Loved?”
I nod once.
Stephen’s fingers brush back and forth over the bird’s wings, goosebumps flying along my skin. “When did she pass?”
I swallow. “My father killed her when I was twelve.”
His mouth drops open, and mine does too because I can’t believe I just admitted that. I move to turn away, to hide from the truth I spilled, but Stephen doesn’t let me get away.
He grips my shoulder. “What happened?”
I shake my head, not wanting to revisit that memory. “Let’s get going. The team is waiting for us.”
“They can wait.” His eyes bounce between mine. “Tell me.”
When we’re this close, I can spot the different shades of blue swirling in his irises. It’s like looking into the depths of the ocean, beautiful yet dangerous, ready to pull me under.
I try to keep my voice even and not let the memory assault my mind. “My father was drunk one night, and my parents were fighting out in the driveway. He was heading to the bar, but my mother didn’t want him to leave because he always came home in worse shape than he was when he left, and he got violent when he drank.” I swallow around the ball of emotion lodged in my throat. “He got in the car and I ran into the street to stop him. I hated seeing my mother upset, so I thought everything would be better if I could just keep him from leaving.” I pause, sucking in a breath before letting out the rest of the words. “He stepped on the gas pedal, and gunned it. My mom jumped in front of me, and he mowed her down. Dragged her under his car for half a mile before he realized what he’d done.”
Tears well in Stephen’s eyes. “She saved your life.”
I shake my head. “She wouldn’t’ve needed to if I hadn’t run out into the street.”
His eyebrows press together. “You can’t seriously blame yourself for that.”
I shove him back and move across the room. “Let’s go. I don’t want to spend the night talking about this shit.”
Stephen stares at me a moment, rooted to the spot I left him in. I know he wants more out of me, but I’ve already said too much.
“I don’t need your pity,” I say.
He blinks away his emotion, and hikes a nonchalant shoulder. “Just wishing I would’ve beat your father’s ass last year when I met him.”
A small smirk tugs at my lips. “He’s not worth it.”
“No, but you are.”
Affection warms my chest, pumping through my veins to the rest of my body.
I don’t say anything.
I can’t.
I’m too afraid of what might come out if I respond to Stephen’s notion that maybe I’m worth a damn.
“Ladies, drop your panties. The Ospreys just walked in!”
I glare at the DJ across the room as cheers fill the air.
Frat parties aren’t my thing, and they never will be my thing. But every once in a while, I have to appease my teammates and show face for a celebratory drink, which consists of me holding a Solo cup filled with disgusting keg beer, and pretending to sip on it throughout the night.
Nobody but Stephen knows about my father’s alcoholism, so he’s the only one who’s aware that I’m stone-cold sober, and he doesn’t give me a hard time about it like he does with everything else.
“Look at this place.” Stephen’s eyes bounce around the room at the potential hookups like he’s a kid in a candy shop. “Take your pick, Kellerman. We’ve got the whole football team and the cheerleading squad.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m here to spend a little time with the team, and then I’m out. I have?—”
My gaze snags on a girl dancing with her friends on the other side of the room, and my brain erases all other thoughts.
Her dark-brown hair is in a messy bob, the shorter pieces falling over her eyes while the ends of her strands hover just above her shoulders. Her toned arms are covered in a myriad of tattoos, each one weaving into the other like it’s telling a story; the mandala on her throat in particular catches my attention, along with the thin, sparkly ring dangling from her septum. Her tiny black tank-top says Emo Girl in big white letters, and ripped baggy jeans sit low on her waist, rounding out her rocker-girl appearance with black combat boots.
This girl is my fantasy come to life.
Apparently, she’s Stephen’s fantasy too, because he’s staring just as hard as I am.
“Dibs,” he murmurs.
I roll my eyes. “She’s out of your league.”
He scoffs. “No such thing.”
Regardless of how good-looking Stephen is, he hasn’t yet learned that you can’t call dibs on a woman like that . You don’t own a woman like that. She decides what she wants and who she wants, and you’d be wise to obey.
Stephen grips my elbow and pulls me across the room. “Occupy her friends.”
I dig my heels in as we get closer. “I don’t dance, man.”
“You’re my wingman. I need you.”
This guy doesn’t need a wingman. Women and men alike throw themselves at him.
The hazel-eyed beauty glances up as Stephen makes a beeline right for her, dragging me behind him. She wears a playful smirk on her lush lips as she moves her hips to the beat, waiting to see what he’ll do.
Stephen releases my arm and slides up behind her, his body moving in sync with hers. He whispers something in her ear, and her shoulders shake with her laughter.
I’m about to spin around, ready to disappear from the crowded dance floor. Stephen gets the girl, and I’ll sneak out of the party and go back to my dorm alone.
But then her gaze shifts to me.
With Stephen’s hands sitting on her waist, she reaches out and her fingers wrap around my wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I dip my head so she can hear me over the music. “Looks like you’ve got a dancing partner.”
She arches a brow. “Who says I can’t have two?”
“I don’t dance.”
She smiles, and her hand slips around to my back, pulling my body closer to hers. “That just means you haven’t danced with the right woman yet.”
Holding me against her, her hips sway and mine follow. It feels awkward at first, my insecurity blaring in my head. But then, Stephen takes my hands and places them on her waist. His fingers trail up my arms, his light touch setting a blaze along my skin, and settling on top of where her hands are resting on my shoulders.
The three of us are sandwiched together. Connected. My eyes dart around the room, looking to see who’s watching us.
But no one is. Everyone here is halfway to drunk, enjoying themselves.
So why can’t I do the same?
She tips her head back and rests it against Stephen’s chest as she gazes up at me. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”
My fingertips squeeze her hips. “No.”
Stephen’s hand leaves my left shoulder and moves to her chin, tilting her face to the side. She closes the distance willingly, and presses her lips to his.
Possession rips through me—whether it’s because he’s kissing her, or she’s kissing him, I have no idea. I stop moving, stricken as I watch their tongues snake out and wrap around one another. I should go. Leave them to themselves, and leave this stupid party.
But then she turns her head and presses her lips against mine.
Her lips are soft and pillowy, and they open for me instantly. There’s a hint of cinnamon on her tongue from Stephen’s gum as it snakes into my mouth in search of mine.
I glance up at Stephen, my mouth fused to hers, and I don’t miss his hungry gaze, his hooded eyes watching me. He licks his lower lip before he takes it between his teeth, and that subtle move makes my dick jump. He dips his head a fraction of an inch, teasing me with the thought of him joining our kiss.
Until the beauty between us pulls away from my mouth, panting. “Let’s take this somewhere else.”
She says it to both of us. She wants us, together.
But it snaps me out of my trance, and I step back like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on my head.
What the hell am I doing?
I turn away and leave them standing there.