Chapter Thirteen
Hunter
It was the perfect way to end the month of September.
I don’t know what it was about the last two games, why I’m suddenly feeling more like myself, finding my groove and not feeling as uncomfortable in my own skin.
I don’t want to think about what it could be…
that maybe it means I’m forgetting Ellis or getting over losing him.
He doesn’t deserve that, but it feels so good to enjoy playing again, so fucking good to feel good about my game.
I hadn’t been able to come down after the game, hadn’t been able to stop wanting to ride the high football has always given me but that I’ve started to lose along the way.
And the person I’d wanted by my side while holding on to that feeling had been Lucas, the guy who hates the game I love.
I don’t want to think about what that means either, so I don’t.
“Tell me again how much I impressed you tonight,” I tease as we sit on the balcony, partway through our meal.
Lucas had come out a few minutes after me, maybe because of the red-velvet cupcake.
I don’t know why I’d thought of that tonight, why I remembered how much he likes red velvet and wanted to return the favor for my chocolate cake.
Is it strange to remember something like that after all these years?
Maybe for me, but not for him, since he’s the one who lived it.
I hadn’t wanted to bring the past into tonight, and hopefully I didn’t sour the mood, but I’m glad I gave him his cupcake.
“I don’t believe I said that,” Lucas counters.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you did.”
“Shut up and eat your veggies.” He points to my food, as though I’m the one who needs that reminder.
I don’t understand what’s going on here, why I suddenly enjoy spending time with Lucas so much, but I do, so I am, and that confuses me.
I press my fork into a chunk of zucchini and bite it playfully in front of him. He rolls his eyes, but there’s a small smile on his face as he eats some of his, then fake-gags.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Not the worst thing I’ve been called.”
“You know, even though I call you an asshole, I don’t think you are one.”
His brows pinch together. “Thanks, but you should.”
“Well, I don’t.” It’s important he knows that. Sure, Lucas can be prickly, and he can come off as an asshole, but that’s not who he really is.
“You always try to see the good in people,” Lucas says, “and when you find it, you focus on that instead of the bad. That’s a good quality to have, but don’t let it color your impression of who people are.”
I’m not sure how to answer that. I don’t think Lucas is only talking about himself right now.
I’ve always felt uncomfortable, ashamed even, of the way I let Coach Blake treat him, and sometimes even me.
I’m aware I’ve ignored his bad qualities, but I don’t have it in me to forget everything he’s done for me.
“I know who you are,” I say, focusing on Lucas rather than his father.
“You’re the guy who texted me after my game, knowing how terribly I played, but didn’t bring up football.
You knew I would need someone to talk to who didn’t make the whole conversation about my game.
You’re the guy who didn’t complain when your dad brought home your brother’s favorite cake for your birthday. ”
“Maybe I didn’t complain, but I hated him for it, and sometimes I hated Ellis for it too, even though it wasn’t his fault.
” He says it with the same guilt my thoughts are often coated with when I think about Ellis.
Like we’re carrying around all this baggage from our relationships with him.
Maybe that’s partly why things feel simpler with Lucas.
We seem to be on the same wavelength. Has that always been there, or is it new?
“That’s normal human behavior, Lucas. How could you not have complicated feelings for Ellis?”
“He’s my brother.”
As much as I love Ellis, I can admit that he had his imperfections when it came to his brother too.
“Ellis was jealous of you, of your talent, and sometimes he let that get in the way of being a good brother.” The words taste bitter on my tongue, feel like I should never have set them free, but I can’t let Lucas sit here and beat himself up over their relationship struggles when they weren’t one-sided.
“What about that play in the fourth when you got that block to protect your QB? You kept two men away from him on your own.”
“Back to complimenting me,” I say, knowing what he’s doing and willing to let him. Why would I want to talk about things that hurt, when so much of the last few years of my life have been spent hurting? “That was really fucking good.” I grin at him, then take another bite.
Lucas sighs like he’s had enough of me, then does the same.
We eat and talk, Lucas actually finishing the grilled vegetables he complained so much about. I watch him smoke another cigarette. Honestly, I didn’t think people our age still smoked those. It’s always vapes now.
We go back inside, easily working side by side to clean up after dinner.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks.
“That depends. Is it going to be a film with subtitles or one that has some deep, hidden meaning I have to figure out?”
Lucas isn’t a shy guy. Never has been. So I’m fairly certain this is the first time I’ve seen him blush, his cheeks brightening into a soft pink. “If you don’t stop remembering everything about me, I’ll think you’ve been stalking me.”
“Is that weird? That I remember all these things about you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I guess it’s just you. And we don’t have to watch one of those movies. We can watch anything you want.”
He picks up the cupcake, then surprises me by wrapping his other hand around my wrist and pulling me with him into the living room. I go easily, the two of us sitting down on the couch. I take off my shoes to get more comfortable, my resting heart rate feeling faster than normal.
We settle on a drama, Lucas setting his socked feet on the table as he digs into the cupcake.
He takes his first bite, then moans like it’s the best thing he’s ever put into his mouth, the sound shooting straight for the last part of me it should be heading, making my dick twitch.
“God, this is good. The vegetables were worth it.”
“So, to get you to eat better, I need to buy you junk food? I’m not sure that evens out.” Really, I don’t care how he eats. Lucas is a grown man who can do what he wants, but it’s fun to tease him.
“Oh, it does. It definitely does.” He takes another bite, and I find that my gaze is still firmly locked on him rather than the television in front of us. He licks cream cheese frosting from his lips, not seeming worried about the crumbs on his shirt as he enjoys the treat.
Lucas is so…Lucas. This mixture of freedom and independence, of troubled and kind, artistic and wild, a quiet calm to the chaotic storm my life feels like.
He picks a piece of cupcake off his shirt and eats it before looking over at me. “What?”
“I wish I knew how to enjoy life the way you do.”
He looks away. “It’s just a cupcake.”
Maybe it is for him, but it doesn’t feel like it for me.
Somehow, I seem to have ruined the mood, the vibe between us. Lucas sets the wrapper on the table, then gives his attention to the television.
I try to do the same, but I can’t focus on the screen.
Every few minutes, my attention is drawn back to him.
To the way he absently draws circles on his thigh with his finger, like he’d done with the stars on our night on the roof.
To the clear polish on his nails today, his messy hair, and that now familiar scent of sea salt and apples, mixed with cake.
To the way the muscles in his arms flex from time to time and the soft, lulling sounds of his breaths.
Having so much Lucas so close is invading my senses.
He’s making me dizzy, and my body overheated, and my dick, fuck…
just being close to him makes my dick stir.
Stop this. What the fuck is wrong with you? As if you didn’t betray Ellis enough already.
But the voice of warning, of clarity, is getting softer and softer, until it’s only a faint mumble.
When Lucas’s hand rests on the cushion between us, lying flat there, my attention is drawn to the prominent veins on the back of his hand and the way his knuckles are slightly bigger than the rest of his fingers.
It’s a fucking hand, but I’ve always had a thing for hands, and Lucas’s are really fucking sexy.
Masculine and strong, but with a gentleness to them, like they can be firm when needed but soft when the situation calls for it.
I don’t know what I’m doing, why I don’t stop myself, why I let my hand land on the cushion beside his, my finger stroking Lucas’s. It’s something a kid would do, a teenager testing the waters, but I want to know what his hand feels like, want to be able to touch him despite how wrong it is.
Lucas doesn’t speak, doesn’t do anything like suck in a sharp breath or rip his hand away. He simply slides his hand closer, and I touch more of him, rub his pinky with mine while my heart races.
He looks up at me then, Lucas sitting lower on the couch, in a more relaxed position than me.
The voice is gone now, blocked out by a desire to feel good, to feel him, to feel connected to another person, because despite the women I’ve fucked since losing Ellis, I haven’t felt the kind of connection that makes me feel alive.
“Hunter…” His voice is low and husky, thick with what sounds like desire and probably some confusion thrown in. It’s how I feel too.
“Lucas,” I reply, hooking my finger with his.
We stare at each other, our eyes drawn together like magnets. Does he feel it too? Can he not look away either?
Before my brain can catch up, he’s pushing closer, moving in, his lips stopping a breath away from mine as though he’s giving me a moment to tell him no.
God help me, I don’t want to tell him no. I want to pull him closer.
When I don’t move, don’t speak, Lucas’s lips press against mine.
It’s soft at first, light open-mouthed kisses like he’s trying to warm me up, and then deeper, his tongue lashing at my lips, which I immediately open to let him inside.
His mouth tastes sweet like the cake he just ate, and the kiss moves faster, hungrier, needy sounds coming from one or both of us, I can’t tell which.
Lucas pushes onto his knees, not breaking our kiss, and then he’s straddling me, his arms around my shoulders and mine around his waist, the weight of him welcome against my thighs. He tastes so good, feels so good, the moment going to my head, making the dizziness heighten and my hunger grow.
My hand finds a home on his ass, squeezing his cheeks as Lucas grinds against me. It’s…too much, not enough, so fucking wrong, but I’m so damn tired. Tired of hurting, of being sad, of feeling alone, and somehow, being with him, the last place I should be, helps.
I give a hungry groan when Lucas bites my lip, rutting on me like he needs this as much as I do. My dick is throbbing between us, his hard against mine as we both take the pleasure dangling in front of us.
But I’ve always prided myself on doing the right thing, and this is so fucking wrong.
Lucas gasps when I pull away from him, both of us breathing heavily, eyes stuck on each other.
I see the fear in his, the worry about what I’ll say or do, like he’s afraid I’ll stop, but…
I don’t. Damned if that’s not the last thing on my mind right now.
I rip Lucas’s shirt over his head. He’s got a great body—lithe muscle, defined but not overly so.
He’s not one of those guys who spends too much time in the gym, unlike me.
His pecs are firm but not huge, with a patch of hair between them.
And those colorful tattoos…damned if I don’t wonder what they taste like.
First, though, I lean in and lash my tongue against his collarbone, taste his heartbeat in his throat, and then Lucas is ripping my shirt over my head before sealing his mouth to mine again.
I should get up and walk out of this room right now…but I can’t force myself to do it. I don’t want to stop kissing him, so I turn off my brain and let myself have this, even if I’ll hate myself for it later.