Chapter 16 Brody #2
At one point, we end up in almost the same position we were on that screen. Only this time, I make him stop by pulling his hip up and into me. His ass presses into my crotch.
“See? Like this,” I murmur, splaying my hand over his stomach and feeling his abs clench. My cock fills with blood, and I know he can feel me growing against him.
This time, I’m the one too distracted by my boner to react fast enough. Beck flips me just how he should have during that match, laying me flat out on my back and pinning me down.
“You’re too cocky for your own good,” he snaps.
I smirk. “I’m cocky because I can back it up.” I thrust my hips a little for good measure.
His face does that flustered pretty thing again. He shoves me harder, but that’s just foreplay at this point.
Jay and Aaron flank me on the sidewalk after practice.
Jay elbows me. “Dude, is everything okay between you and Beckett?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“He seemed a little more murderous today than he usually does,” Jay laughs.
“Oh,” I say deadpan. “That just means he loves me.”
They both choke on air.
“He what?” Aaron asks.
“He loves me,” I repeat. “He’s just not ready to admit it yet.”
Jay snorts. “Pretty sure he can’t stand you.”
“Same thing,” I shrug.
They stare at me like I’m insane. Which is fair.
I’m not sure what to call whatever it is we’re doing. I know Beck, even if he doesn’t know himself yet. And I know I need to work on being less obvious, because the last thing I want to do is force him out of the closet.
I tell myself I’m going to do the right thing and cool it when we’re in public, but the very next time I see him, I’m already being tested.
Most of the team has crowded into the dining hall for dinner, taking up several large tables filled with athletes more often than not, since the student center building is the closest dining hall to the athletic dorms.
Beck, of course, chooses whatever seat is farthest away from me, but the table fills on both sides, pushing us towards the center of the table until we end up directly across from each other.
The glare he gives me—no doubt in response to my obvious glee—would level a sane person.
But I am living my best life getting to play brat to his grumpy act.
“Stop it,” he mouths.
I mouth back, “What?” and don’t even try to hold back my smirk. I know he loves to hate it.
He cuts his eyes down to my mouth. So I lick my lips slowly, nearly laughing out loud when he snaps upright, spine as straight as the stick up his ass, and darts his eyes around frantically.
He settles his attention on Cade and a sophomore football player, who are arguing over which women’s team has the hottest girls.
Football bro says the volleyball team, and most of the guys around us nod emphatically.
Then Cade clears his throat and gestures across the dining hall to where a truly stunningly gorgeous woman with golden skin and vivid blue hair is standing talking to a cute little twink in a pair of baggy jeans and a crop top.
“Gentlemen, I present to you Ivy Quinn from women’s tennis singles.”
Even the football bro nods like, yeah, you’ve got me there. “She’s only one chick, though.”
“Quality over quantity, my man. She’s got it all.”
Pierce, sitting three seats down, snorts. “I guess if you’re into that sort of thing. She’s a little alternative for my tastes.”
“Is that code for she looks like she has opinions?” Fish asks. Aaron snorts.
“She is a bit mouthy actually, since you brought it up. Always waving her flags around like everyone needs to know her business. And look at the way she dresses. Talk about full of herself.”
Brody looks over. She’s wearing athletic leggings and a white t-shirt with orange, red, and pink letters that says, “I have a nut allergy.”
“You have a popped collar and a sweater tied around your shoulders,” Aaron points out. My mouth drops open in shocked amusement. Since when does sweet, quiet Aaron throw out sick burns like that?!
The table erupts. Watching Pierce get his bullshit flipped on him might be just as satisfying as getting Beck all flustered earlier.
“I don’t understand the shirt,” Cade stage whispers to Fish.
“Dude, she’s a lesbian.”
Cade perks up. “Really?”
Fish rolls his eyes. “Cade, a smart, sophisticated woman like that wouldn’t give you the time of day even if you did have the right equipment.”
“I don’t care. That just makes her hotter.”
“You’re a walking red flag,” Fish says and rolls his eyes.
They continue bickering, giving me time to slide my foot across the floor under the table and nudge Beck’s ankle.
He jerks like he’s been shocked. His eyes widen comically, giving me a look that suggests where I should go with my audacity before he looks away so dramatically it might qualify as theater. I fucking love it.
So, I slide my foot up his calf. Slowly. Deliberately.
A blotchy red flush creeps up his neck.
Mmmph. Beautiful.
“Yo, Brody. Where’d you go the other night? Did you hook up with that Amanda chick?”
“Amanda the swimmer?” Jay asks, eyebrow raised.
I’d talked to her for a while at the Halloween party before I saw Beck dancing with Caty. I catch Jay’s eye and shrug.
“Nah, girls aren’t my thing.”
Beck freezes, as do several of the guys around us. It goes over Cade’s head. Pretty sure his muscle mass ate his brain. Poor thing.
“But there were girls all over you at the Halloween party. You had to have hooked up with someone.”
“He’s a homo, you idiot,” Pierce yells across the table, getting the attention of several other tables. “He takes it up the ass.”
I notice the heavyweight captain, Sean Cabot, stand and give Pierce a very pointed warning glare as he walks to dispose of his tray. Pierce deflates a little.
Cade’s mouth opens and closes while he processes. “So you like dick?”
I give him a bored look. “Yep.”
Fish holds out a fist. “My favorite sister is gay. Respect.”
I roll my eyes but give him the bump. In the meantime, I do my best not to give Pierce the satisfaction of my attention or a reaction to his clear attempt to start shit with me.
Cade slaps the table, causing several people to jump, and then points at me with a very serious expression on his face. “I like you so much more now that you’re not competition.”
Everyone laughs. Except Beck.
He stands so abruptly his chair screeches, mutters some excuse, and leaves. I move to follow him.
“Yo, Brody,” Cade says. “You should join the Pride Alliance. Buddy up to Ivy for me.”
That earns another roar of laughter from the table.
If I leave now, it’ll look suspicious. And Beck wouldn’t want me to draw attention to his abrupt exit. So I sit back and try to act normal even though I really want to be chasing after him. He seemed upset, and I don’t really know why.
Eventually, my phone buzzes.
Becky: Why did you do that?
Captain: Do what?
Becky: You can’t just tell everyone that shit.
Captain: Would you rather I be ashamed of who I am?
Becky: I’d rather you have some discretion.
Captain: Worried people are going to figure out your secret by association? Insecurity isn’t sexy, Becky.
Becky: Fuck you. I’m not insecure.
Captain: Is that why you haven’t been able to look me in the eye since I milked your prostate on Saturday?
Becky: Shut up. I didn’t like that.
Captain: The geyser you shot into the back of my throat says otherwise.
Becky: That was just because of the blowjob. Not that.
Becky: Also, delete these messages immediately.
I grin wide.
Captain: Nah. I think I’ll keep them. Save them for later when I need something to jerk off to.
Becky: Seriously, Brody. Delete them. And leave me alone.
Captain: I’ll delete them if you can prove me wrong.
Becky: What does that even mean?
Captain: Meet me outside and I’ll show you.
Becky: …
The three little dots that show me he’s typing out a response pop up and disappear four times, but no message comes through.
Captain: Come on, Becky. Be a good girl and let me play with your ass. If you don’t come on my fingers in ten minutes or less, I’ll delete all the messages and leave you alone forever. That’s what you say you want, right?
He knows I’m right. His response takes even longer this time, but he finally texts back.
Becky: That is what I want, yes. But I don’t need to prove anything.
Sure it is.
Captain: Then put your ass where your mouth is, Becky. Meet me at your car. Five minutes.
I stand, toss my tray, and slip out the back doors. He’s already waiting for me outside. He looks nervous. And angry as fuck. But I can tell he’s turned on and more than a little curious. It’s his default state of being at this point.
“Why my car?” he mutters, looking back and forth to see if there’s anyone else around who might witness him being cordial with me.
“I want to see your car,” I say, strolling past him towards the lot. “I bet it’s really nice and roomy.”
I’ve seen his car, and I know it’s nice as hell. It’s a brand new gunmetal grey Range Rover Sport that reeks of privilege and, according to the internet, is rated the highest for cargo space in luxury midsize SUVs.
And isn’t that convenient?
It’s also convenient that I happen to know he parks as far away from other cars as possible to protect it from getting scratched. It’s practically in a private corner of the lot, perfectly hidden from view.
Cold air nips at our skin, fogs our breath. Beck wraps his arms around himself, shoulders hunched, jaw tight and pointedly not speaking to me.
When we reach the car, I push him gently against the back bumper.
He gasps. Then whispers, “No.”
His voice breaks on the word, and his pupils are blown wide. He wants so badly to say yes.
So I step closer, breath brushing his cheek.
“I didn’t ask,” I say softly. “You know what to say to make me stop.”
His knees tremble.
“Why don’t we crawl in the back, and you can bend over somewhere no one can see you?”
I ghost my fingers down his hip, stopping just above the waistband of his pants.