Chapter 9 Connor #2
To his credit, he took my plea for time alone to heart.
That, or he needs space too. Either way, I’ve hardly seen him all week.
Sometimes I’ll hear him in the bathroom in the middle of the night, but besides that, he’s gone by the time I’m up in the mornings, and he hasn’t been showing his face at the dinner table.
I miss him—a lot—partly because dinner is even weirder when both Thalia and Dane are MIA.
Without them, it’s just three unrelated and disjointed people eating food in uncomfortable silence.
In all my time living here, I haven’t figured out why Artie and Joselyn are together, when they don’t seem to have anything in common or even like each other all that much. The sex must be out of this world, but that’s yet another thing I shouldn’t be thinking about.
Jeez, my mind has become a minefield of intrusive sexual thoughts lately.
I’ve also been masturbating a lot more, mostly because it’s the quickest and most effective way to cure my unwanted boners. It’s also been helping me not to beg Thalia for sex when she’s clearly not into it right now.
Thursday, I forget to jerk off and end up in a fight with Thalia over the fact we haven’t had sex in forever.
Not my finest hour. I offer to take her out for an apology-dinner, but she has other plans.
It’s frustrating, and I’m beginning to forget why the hell I’m even here.
If not for Thalia, I’m only in San Diego for my graduate program, and everyone I talk to about my work seems to think I’m actually here for Dane.
Dane… Without fail, my mind always circles right back to him.
Friday morning, I wake up early to ambush him like a scorned lover, but what can I say? The dude goes from doing my laundry and making me lunch to completely icing me out. That’s fucked. I’m the one in crisis here!
So, I post up on a patio chair on the front porch and wait for Dane to saunter out the front door in shorts and flip-flops, his gym bag slung over his shoulder.
“Yo.” My voice cracks on the first word I’ve spoken today.
Dane’s long legs stall before the driveway, and he turns slowly. “Hey, stalker.”
“Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Well, you know…you said you needed time, so…”
“Thanks.” I stand up, but awkwardness makes my limbs shaky. I fold my arms just to keep them still. “I, um…I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
I meet Dane’s eyes, glimmering in the sunbeam streaming across the front yard. As innocently as I can muster, I ask, “Where’re you headed?”
“The beach.” He nods toward my feet, no doubt spotting my gym bag sitting beside them. “But looks like you already know that.”
“Can I come?”
The corner of his mouth curls. “I dunno. Can you?” Despite the chuckle he exhales, his countenance quickly dims, mouth turning into a frown. “Sorry. Habit. Yeah, of course you can come.”
On our way to the Beemer, I ask Dane if we’re good.
“I’m good. Are you good?”
“Yeah. Just, uh, excited to kick your ass again.”
He laughs and reaches over to rustle my hair. As enchanting as his touch feels, I swat him away and call him an ass.
“Whatever, puppy,” he snickers before rounding the car to the driver’s side.
“Please don’t start calling me that,” I bemoan. “I’d rather be called stalker than puppy.”
Over the hood, Dane teases, “I’ll take your request under careful consideration and get back to you within ten to fourteen business days.”
Damn, I really missed this.
I’m grinning as I slip into the passenger seat, excited to be done with the awkwardness and to get back to how things were before.
“What’ve you been up to this week?” I ask along the drive, almost fearing the answer.
There’s been a niggling thought in the back of my head that Dane has spent the week with blowjob-dude. Have they been off blowing each other all week? The thought alone makes me queasy and sad.
Dane shrugs, eyes on the road. “Had mid-terms this week, so was busy with all that.”
“Studying?”
“Yeah.” He flashes me a quick half-smile. “I do that sometimes, between learning how to use a washing machine and learning how to use a dryer.”
My sigh aches with regret over that stupid jab. “I was being a dick when I said that. Thank you for washing my stuff.”
“No prob. Now I just gotta figure out how to get the smell of cum and chlorine outta my trunk.”
I snort, my face going hot despite the air vent pushing cool air toward my face.
“Kidding,” he says. “Nothing a little Febreze couldn’t clear up.”
“Wow, he’s got Febreze too.”
“I know where Joss keeps it.”
“I had to show photos of you to my class. Everyone says you’re very evocative.”
“Oh, yeah?” Dane asks with a growing smirk. “Anyone hot?”
“A few hot girls. Not sure about the guys.”
“Eh, that’s cool. I’m sorta trying to steer clear of photographers now. Way too much trouble.”
“Look who’s talking.” It feels good to laugh.
My chest hasn’t vibrated with genuine laughter since the last time Dane and I hung out.
Maybe this is what I really need. Not sex, but laughter and soccer.
The opposite of horny isn’t sated, but content, and when I’m hanging with Dane and his buds at the beach, I’m too content to dwell on last weekend or pine for an orgasm.
Somehow, scrimmaging with the same man who created my tailspin sets my axis to rights, and it’s fucking awesome. I still wouldn’t say that Dane’s friends are becoming my friends, but so long as I can call Dane my friend, I’m surprisingly content.