Chapter 5
Chapter Five
In the following few days, I hear nothing from Colton. No texts, no jersey suddenly appearing on my doorstep, and when I pass him on campus, he doesn’t even look my way.
I assume whatever insanity happened between us was a glitch in reality. I swallowed the wrong pill, or maybe I made the whole thing up. Maybe it was all just a fever dream.
I don’t miss it.
I really don’t.
I may go to one of his games, lingering in the back like a ghost, watching him. But I don’t wear the jersey because I don’t have it.
I don’t want it anyway.
“Why are you sulking?” Paulie asks, nudging me with the pizza box. We just got done with training and are now eating our weight in carbs.
I peel the cardboard container open and pull out a slice.
“Ugh, olives,” I murmur, and Paulie rolls his eyes.
“Pick them off. You liked them last week.”
I don’t even bother. I just eat them, stuffing the slice into my mouth and chewing, barely tasting them with all the cheese.
“Damn, thought you were too busy being a sad sack to eat anything. Apparently not.”
“I’m not sad,” I say around a mouthful of crust. “I’m just…in a mood.”
“Problem with the guy you’re seeing?”
I eye my friend and then shake my head. “No.”
It’s a lie. He knows it. I know it.
The pizza knows it.
I swallow it down, and it sits heavily in my stomach.
“Come on, you can talk to me, you know? Even the coach could feel something was off during training. You were way slower than normal. You kept fumbling the ball.”
“Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to remind me. I’ve just been off. Things between me and…” I take another bite of pizza to keep myself from outing him. “Things between us have ended, and now I’m kinda confused.”
“How so?”
“How did it end? Uh, he threw me out.”
“Yeah, all right, but why are you confused?”
“Well, am I gay now?”
He shrugs. “Sexuality is a spectrum. You can be whatever you want.”
“Yeah. Guess so.”
“And you don’t need a label. You can just be Myles who likes kissing that one guy…or fucking—”
“I’m not fucking a guy.”
His lips twitch, and I sigh.
“I’m not fucking him yet.”
“Right, well, I know it’s a lot, but I’m here to listen. And really, this changes nothing about you. You just opened your worldview up a little. You’re stepping outside your little box.”
“My box isn’t that little, and yeah, I guess.”
“Now, it seems, you need to get over this guy. I hate him, by the way. Don’t know him, but I’m pissed he’s upset you.”
“There was nothing between us, no commitment. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine. You’re sad.”
“A little. More confused than anything, but I’ll get over it.”
He huffs and then hands me a gaming controller. “Let’s play for a bit. Take your mind off it.”
“Yeah.”
“And if that doesn’t work, we can get drunk.”
I huff a laugh and kick my legs up on the rickety coffee table, pulling out another piece of pizza and stuffing half into my mouth.
“Right, Coach would love that.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, my friend.”
“Not that desperate. I’m fine.”
But I’m mostly desperate, and I’m having a hard time concentrating. Paulie kills me in the game with ease, and I’m left sulking on the couch even worse than when we started.
“Yeah, seems the gaming didn’t help,” Paulie says, and I sigh, staring at the TV.
“Nah, it was nice. Just got obliterated is all. Obliterated in real life. Obliterated in the game.”
Paulie rubs his stomach and tosses his controller aside. “Drunk it is.”
Just as he stands up, a knock on the door resounds through the small living room, and my eyes flit to it.
Who the hell is here so late?
Paulie moves to answer it, and I sit up a little, my feet hitting the floor and a hand running through my hair.
“Hey, is Myles home?” a familiar voice says. My heart thumps awkwardly, and I shift in my seat.
Shit, that’s Colton. At my apartment.
Paulie turns his head over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow at me. I go absolutely molten.
“Yeah, I’m here,” I call out a bit too excitedly.
I clear my throat and push myself up as Colton steps inside.
His eyes swivel around the apartment, taking in the space.
I know what he sees. The raggedy sofa, the linoleum counters.
Everything about this place is old, but it’s what Paulie and I could afford on our scholarships, and we aren’t ones to complain. We’ll take what we can get.
“What’s up?” I ask, and Colton’s eyes slam into mine. I watch as his pupils dilate, his tongue peeking out and wetting his lips.
“Can I talk to you?”
I fold my arms across my chest and then nod back to my bedroom. I don’t want to talk to him, but I also really do.
I can admit that.
I’m a man about most things.
“All riiiight,” Paulie drawls and then huffs a laugh. “I’ll be in my bedroom with my noise-canceling headphones on. Won’t hear a thing.”
“Fuck off,” I murmur as I turn and walk down the hall to my room. The floor has a few items of clothing strewn about, but I didn’t know he was headed over, or I’d have picked up.
Not that I care about making impressions. Good or bad.
“In here,” I say, and close the door behind him.
Colton makes his way around the perimeter, his eyes taking in every object that lines my shelves, his fingers trailing after them. I’m sure I’ll be missing something when he leaves.
“Nice place.”
“It’s not nice,” I grumble. “What do you want?”
He turns to face me, his hand curling into a fist before relaxing. In that moment, I take him in—the loose navy shirt he’s wearing, the messy waves of his hair falling across his forehead, his untied shoelaces. He looks like he haphazardly got dressed and rushed over here. Like he was in a hurry.
“I brought you my jersey.”
“Don’t want it.”
He huffs and pulls it out of his bag, tossing it onto the bed.
I stare at it and then back at him.
“Fuck. Listen, I’m sorry about last time,” he says softly, his eyes meeting mine. They’re soft and almost sad.
But I don’t feel bad for him. He stomped into my life, stuck his hand down my pants, and made me question my identity.
And then he discarded me.
If having a single mom and three sisters has taught me anything, it’s knowing my worth. And I refuse to be treated like shit.
“I have a lot of family stuff going on and…” He blows out a breath. “Look, I hate them. Like, I don’t think people realize how much I fucking hate them all, and when they called… Well, I took it out on you.”
My arms loosen around my chest. Oh, I didn’t expect this. This unveiling of the truth.
“I’m sorry,” he adds.
I blink at him, words trapped in my throat.
“Can I kiss you again?”
I huff and feel my cheeks redden.
“No.”
He sets his bag down and steps forward. “Just a few small ones?”
I huff again as he moves right up to me. My hands fall to my sides, and I can’t help but stare into his dark eyes.
“I just needed some space after that phone call. I don’t like showing people my…” He glances away and deflates slightly. “…my true feelings. It makes me feel vulnerable. And growing up, being vulnerable got the shit kicked out of you.”
“It’s normal to feel vulnerable,” I say, my mom’s words reverberating in my mind. You go ahead and show those emotions. It doesn’t make you less than. It just makes you real. “It’s not normal to get the shit kicked out of you, though.”
“Yeah, I know. But listen, vulnerability is not normal for me. I—” He looks away again. “Like I said, I didn’t have the best childhood.”
I can’t help it. My hand reaches out, and I touch his side. It brings him closer to me, his chest against mine.
“I think a kiss would make me feel better.” His eyes land on my lips, and he arches his hips forward.
I huff a small laugh, and he slants his mouth over mine. I groan into it, and so does he, a sensual mix of lust and relief.
Hell, it’s fine. He’s here. He apologized, and he wants to keep kissing me. Who am I to protest?
His hands twine in my hair and tug as I lean into him, pulling him against me, our bodies slotted together like the perfect puzzle piece.
What the hell am I thinking that for? I fucking hate puzzles.
Still, our hips meet and grind, our breathing grows heavier, our hands more frantic. His tongue tangles with mine, his teeth scraping against my bottom lip before he pulls away and gives a little yank on the bottom of my shirt.
“Take it off. I want you naked.”
“How about you first, for once?”
He cocks his head. “Is this a way for me to show that I truly am sorry?”
My fingers curl into his shirt.
“Yeah, you need to prove it. Show me.”
He doesn’t really need to do any of that. I’d have stripped naked, but when he pouts, his eyes twinkling, I find that, for once, I’d like the upper hand in whatever this is.
“I guess I can do that.”
He strips out of his shirt, tossing it aside before moving to his pants. I watch it all, my heart pounding in my ears.
It’s only been a few days, but it feels like millennia since I’ve laid eyes on him. He’s even more tan than he was before, his muscles strained, veins popping from his skin as he shucks his pants to the side, leaving him completely bare except for socks.
He’s a fucking sight.
“Good?”
My tongue pokes the inside of my cheek as I assess him.
Hard cock.
Lean frame with dark tattoos scattered across his skin.
Pouty lips.
He’s sensual in every way. From the top of his head to the end of his toes.
“Yeah. Not bad.”
He huffs a laugh, running a hand up his chest. “Not bad? I think from the way your dick is hard, I look pretty damn nice.”
“Shut up. On the bed. It’s my turn to look at you.”
He shuffles backward and sits down on my mattress, his legs sprawling out, hand landing on his dick.
“Taking charge now? I’m not sure I like that. You’re my greedy little bottom.”
“Well, it’s what you get.”
He pushes out his bottom lip, and I toss my shirt aside, leaving my chest bare, making sure to flex my muscles for him.
“How long are you going to look? I want to get my hands on you.”
“You need to wait.”