Chapter 33 #2
Her lips quirk upward as she registers my confusion. “I’m not a big baseball fan.”
“I know,” I reply. “You’ve mentioned it, a few times.”
Lennon’s smile grows. The sight of it tugs at my chest. Chips away at the fear coming to Clarkson was a choice she might regret. “And I wish it didn’t take up so much of your time,” she continues.
Both of my eyebrows rise. I have no idea where she’s going with this. “Okay…”
She pushes my chest. Not that hard, but I’m not expecting it. I stumble back a step. If I didn’t have decent reflexes, I’d probably be flat on my ass right now.
Lennon follows, closing the distance between us again farther from the wall. Her hands are tugging at the top of my shorts, and I think— hope —that I figured out what she’s doing. My dick jumps as she pulls the material down, basically begging for her attention.
“But you looked damn good pitching.”
Suddenly, she’s on her knees in front of me, and I can’t hear anything over the roar of blood in my ears.
Lennon’s hand circles my erection, rubbing the sensitive skin. I’m honestly worried I’ll come from the pressure alone before her mouth even touches my cock.
I can see straight down her shirt from this angle. The sight becomes even more erotic when her tongue peeks out, tracing the tip in slow licks meant to drive me wild.
My hips jerk forward, a groaned “fuck” spilling out when the wet heat of her mouth sucks me. The pleasure is indescribable. Overwhelming. So acute it’s almost painful.
I know I won’t last long, and I’m right.
Lennon ignores my warning, not slipping away until my dick is soft and my head hazy. Pleasure swims through me in lazy trickles.
I move to kiss her, but Lennon pushes me back again. This time, she doesn’t step toward me after.
“Do you have any idea how long this took me?” she asks, gesturing toward her appearance. “I already have to redo my lipstick.”
I grin, unrepentant, as she grabs a tube off her dresser, fixing my shorts. “Fine. I won’t fuck you until later.”
The party tonight is at my house, a celebration of our impressive start to the season. It means I won’t have to walk or drive anywhere after it ends, and hopefully Lennon will decide to stay over.
“You’re sure I look okay?” she asks, swiping a shimmery gloss across her lips that makes me want to kiss her all over again. “This is what other girls wear?”
“You don’t need to dress like other girls, Len. Just wear what you want to wear.”
“I know.” She fiddles with the lip gloss before tossing it back on top of her dresser. “I just want to…fit in, I guess.”
I walk over and kiss the side of her head. “You look like other girls. Just hotter.”
Lennon is extraordinary. Unique. She has a different perspective on the world than most people our age.
While most other college students are focused on grades and who they want to hook up with over the weekend, Lennon has been balancing school and a job.
Not to mention the responsibility of running a stable and taking care of her grandfather.
That makes her different. She’ll never fit in , in a good way.
And even if she did have a similar life experience, she’ll be viewed differently tonight.
She’s showing up with me. Not only am I well-known on campus for baseball, people have a strange interest in my personal life.
I don’t bring girls to parties and I don’t flirt back. Tonight, I’ll be doing both.
Lennon flicks out the light in her room and we head down the dorm hallway, side by side.
“You played really well today, Caleb,” she tells me, purposefully bumping her arm against mine.
I nod, seriously. “I know. Some even considered it blowjob worthy.”
When her fist hits my bicep, I don’t flinch. I was expecting the hit.
I laugh. “Thanks. I might have been showing off some today.”
“Scouts were there?”
“For you , Matthews.”
“Oh.” The short syllable is saturated with surprise. “Really?”
“Really,” I confirm.
We walk out of her dorm, into the balmy evening. It’s the perfect temperature now that the sun has disappeared, still warm but not hot.
“I’m nervous,” Lennon confides, as we walk along the sidewalk toward my truck.
“About what?”
“Tonight. This party. The way everyone pays attention to you, it freaks me out. I want to be off in some corner.”
I already knew Lennon feels that way. But her confiding it is new. In the past, it’s always been her squeezing my hand when we’re at Jake’s house or when people stop me on the sidewalk downtown.
“We don’t have to go.”
“No. I want to go. I just also want you to know if I act weird and awkward tonight, that’s why.” Before I can respond, she asks, “How late do these parties usually go?”
I glance over after we’re inside my truck. “You got a curfew?”
Lennon smirks as she buckles her seatbelt. “A guy in my journalism class invited me to a movie tomorrow morning.”
“Oh, yeah?” I pull out of the parking lot and head back toward my house.
“Yeah.”
“What movie?”
“I forget the title. It’s a documentary.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It will be, actually,” Lennon responds, catching my sarcasm. “A bunch of journalism majors are going, so I’ll get to meet some new people.”
I brake at a stop sign, reaching over and squeezing her knee. “That’s great, Len. And this won’t be that late. The whole team has practice tomorrow morning. None of the guys want to do ladder drills or sprints hungover and exhausted.”
There are twice as many cars on the street as there were when I left to pick up Lennon. And we’re located close to Greek Row, meaning most of the people coming tonight walked over.
Loud music reverberates through the night air as we walk toward the open front door.
I watch Lennon fiddle with the hem of her top as we step inside the house. She moves closer to me, so I rest my palm on the small of her back, guiding her forward, then turning her to the right.
“You cleaned?” she asks me, making a show of looking around the first floor.
I laugh. The house has never looked worse, and it’s messy on its best day.
We head toward the kitchen. I nod my head at the familiar faces calling out to me, but I don’t stop and talk to anyone.
Once we’re in the kitchen, there’s a little less attention.
“You want a drink?” I ask Lennon, pulling open the fridge door. The pizza Drew ordered late last night is sitting on the shelf in an open box. I shake my head and pull down the lid.
“Sure,” she answers, surprising me.
I glance at her. “Alcohol?”
She nods, leaning against the counter in front of the sink. I pull out a bottle of beer for myself and a seltzer for her, mixing the flavored water with a shot of vodka.
Right after I hand the cup to her, I see the glass crack. My right hand flies up reflexively, catching the baseball flying through the air at a speed that makes my hand sting.
Lennon’s eyes are huge, glancing between my hand and the shattered window. The ball missed her by inches. Maybe less.
Jamie rushes into the kitchen first. Drew is right behind him, his gaze unfocused. He’s drunk.
Elliot arrives next, and whistles. “Nice reflexes, Winters.”
“What the fuck ?” I spit.
Drew raises both hands in a placating gesture. “We can fix the window. I thought Jamie would catch it. It was a good throw, man.” That last sentence in aimed at Jamie, who shrugs.
“I’m not worried about the window . You almost hit Lennon!”
More people are crowding the kitchen, looking at the shattered glass and the pissed-off expression I’m wearing.
“I’m fine, Caleb,” Lennon whispers. Her hand lands on my arm, squeezing once. “I’m fine.”
“It was stupid, Lennon. I’m sorry. Glad you’re not hurt. Not only because Caleb probably would have never talked to me again.”
I snort. Lennon’s hand slides down my arm, tangling her fingers with mine.
“Come on outside, guys,” Elliot says, in an obvious attempt to dispel the tension. “Lennon, you can play on my cornhole team. Winters is banned.”
When I look at Lennon, her expression is pleading. I have to stop imagining how that throw could have just hurt her.
I nod, and her face relaxes before she looks at Elliot. “Why? Caleb has terrible aim.”
Laughter fills the room before Lennon pulls me toward the door that leads to the back deck. I toss Drew the baseball as I pass him, accompanied with a warning look. Drunk at a party isn’t a good time for pitching. Never mind I’ve done the same thing myself.
Sandy Peterson is coming up the steps from the yard as we cross the deck.
“Hey, neighbors.” He grins at me and Elliot, then his gaze slides to Lennon. Recognition replaces friendliness. “Garbage bin girl!”
“I prefer to go by Lennon,” Lennon replies, smiling back at him.
“Right, of course. I should have asked for your name.” He chuckles. Coming from a guy who’s never bothered me before, it’s grating. “I’m Sandy.”
Sandy holds out his hand to shake Lennon’s. Elliot shoots me an amused look behind Lennon’s back.
“I’ve looked for you every other night I’ve been on trash duty, you know. I’d given up on ever seeing you again.”
Forget recognition, he’s full-on flirting.
“I’ve only been on campus for a week,” she replies. “I ended up transferring here.”
“No way! How come?”
Elliot and I might as well be part of the deck.
Lennon nods to me, and Sandy’s gaze follows.
“Oh!” He finally puts one and one together, which equals Lennon is off-limits. “You’re Winters’s mysterious girlfriend. Most of campus thought you didn’t exist.”
“Well…I do.”
Sandy looks to me. “Nice scrimmage, Winters.”
“Were you there?” Lennon asks.
“Uh, no. I had an ultimate frisbee thing,” Sandy replies.
“Ultimate frisbee? Is that different from normal frisbee?”
Elliot snorts quietly at Lennon’s innocent response. I smile.
Sandy chuckles and shakes his head. “Not really.” His voice is still friendly, but it’s lost its flirtatious undertone. “See you guys later,” he says, then continues up to stairs.
Elliot starts down the stairs. Lennon and I follow.
“How do you know Sandy?” I ask, aiming for a nonchalant tone.