25. Posey
Posey
The library is my least favorite place on campus, but it’s sometimes a necessary evil. I have a major project due on Tuesday, and I’m behind. I stretch my arms above my head in the private study room I managed to snag. My phone is off, and I’m ignoring all external distractions.
There’s just one tiny internal one that keeps drawing my focus away from my work.
This past week, Brent and I have spent every moment together, when we’re not in class or Brent’s not in the pool or in the gym.
I had no idea I could be with someone so often and not get bored or frustrated or stifled by their company.
But the more time I spend with Brent, the more I want. It’s the oddest thing.
Val has been nowhere. Her socials have been oddly devoid of boyfriend talk this week, and I’m starting to think she’s given up on getting him back.
Neither of us has brought up the fact he probably doesn’t need a fake girlfriend anymore.
I’m getting great sex and lattes, so I can’t complain.
Although, this weekend, I won’t be getting either.
Brent has a swim meet in Chicago. Out of state, but only three hours away.
The next few days are a test run of what my life would be like if I called us out for lingering. We don’t need each other, and this weekend will prove it. Maybe next week I’ll pull the plug on this pseudo-romance. Neither of us needs to risk getting too attached.
Just the thought of telling him we don’t need to see each other anymore makes my stomach dip.
While he says he’s not a relationship guy, he clearly thrives on routine.
We’ve been hanging out for two weeks, and I don’t even need to consult our synced calendars anymore to know where he is or what he’s likely doing.
A creature of habit. I always thought someone predictable would be boring, but I’ve found that certainty and stability oddly comforting.
He means what he says, and he says what he means.
We might be in a fake relationship, but he’s never once treated me as disposable.
Never lied to me or kept something from me.
Apart from the one incident at the basketball party, he hasn’t tried to put a leash on me either.
Seems to enjoy my strong-willed independence.
There’s a knock on the study room door, and I get up to open it. Since these things are like sealed boxes for sound and distraction, other students don’t always realize when one is occupied. Though the red light above the door should have been a clue.
I crack open the door, and Brent is on the other side. He’s got a latte in his hand and a grin on his face. “Destiny told me you were pulling an all-nighter to get some project done. I brought liquid gold reinforcements.”
The strangest sensation spiders across my chest and down my arms. Warm and tingly.
I take the latte from him with one hand, and I grab the front of his jacket with the other, dragging him into the room with a wide view of the campus out the window.
I click a button on the wall, and the blinds come down.
I shut and lock the door while Brent stands in the room, an amused expression on his face.
“Jensen, what are you doing?”
Instead of answering, I kiss him. “When does the bus leave?” I murmur against his lips.
“Thirty minutes. My bag is outside the door.”
“I hope no one steals it.” I unzip his coat and shove it off his shoulders.
It falls to the floor in a heap. There’s barely enough room in here around the worktable for us to move, but need and desire burn through me.
He’s on his way to a huge swim meet for the weekend, and he detoured from the athletics complex to bring me a latte.
We’re stripping each other in hurried motions, and I grab a condom from my purse. When Brent goes to lift me onto the table, he stares at the mess of my work spread out across it. He rotates me around to the wall, and he presses me against it.
“How soundproof are these rooms?” He trails openmouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of my neck.
“Enough,” I say. Not entirely sure how much since we’re in the library and people are supposed to be quiet.
“We’ll see.” He chuckles.
With only half an hour before the bus leaves, I expect him to be in a hurry. But he sets a slow, delicious rhythm that has me striving for the ecstasy I know is just around the corner.
“Faster,” I plead.
“Nope,” he says against my neck. His teeth graze my ear. “I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of this.”
I grip his face, and I kiss him while I hook my legs around him tighter. If he wants to go slow, that’s fine, but I’m not giving him a chance to get too far away. The friction is exquisite.
“Cheater,” he murmurs.
I squeeze my internal muscles around him, and he hisses in my ear. Drives him wild when I do that. My class time spent strengthening my pelvic floor muscles has not been for nothing.
“That’s what cheating feels like,” I purr.
His lips seek mine, and as he increases the pace, our mouths barely break apart.
The closer I get, the harder it is to breathe.
I clutch at his back, and I dig my nails into his shoulders.
My legs are trembling, and he pushes up one more time, sending me flying over the edge, and he follows right behind.
I’m still breathing heavily when he eases me to the ground and gives me one last tender kiss.
“You working on your project all weekend?” he asks as he discards the condom and starts retrieving his clothes from the piles on the floor.
“Unfortunately. Too many lattes and orgasms the last two weeks, and I’m behind.”
“You should have said.” He gives me a peck on the lips. “I didn’t have to spend so much time in your bed.”
“Yeah, you did.” I give him a sly smile. “Trust me, I’m not mad about it.”
“The whole weekend in this box.” He grabs his jacket off the floor. “Seems counterintuitive for someone like you.”
“I’ll hate every second,” I admit. “You’ll send me updates on the meet?”
“If you want me to.” A crease mars his forehead.
“Yeah.” I slip my shirt over my head. “I’d love to know how you’re doing.
” He’s acting like that’s shocking. But I’ve listened to a lot of chatter about his practices and his swimming goals the last two weeks.
Why wouldn’t I want to know whether any of it is coming to fruition? I’m not an unfeeling monster.
He checks the room to make sure he hasn’t dropped anything or left something behind, and then he gives me a quick kiss on my temple. “Good luck with the project. I hope you smash it.”
Into oblivion so I can escape this room. “Good luck to you too,” I say just before he closes the door behind him.
I snap the lock into place, and I release a deep sigh. The tangy scent of sex lingers, and I’m not sure how I’m going to concentrate on my assignment when I’ll remember Brent inside me every time I gaze at the wall across from the desk.
The rest of Friday and most of Saturday pass in a blur of color palettes and window treatments. I went home to sleep, but other than that, I’ve had my nose to the grindstone. It didn’t help that when I did go home, Brent’s absence felt palpable. He’s slithered his way into my daily routine.
As soon as I was awake and showered, I got out of the apartment and came back to the library this morning.
At least when I’m here, I’m not half-expecting Brent to show up with a latte, strip me down, and make me feel all ooey-gooey inside.
Even if that’s exactly what he did on Friday.
Despite my mountain of work as a distraction, I haven’t felt like myself since the door clicked shut on Friday.
Life just isn’t quite the same without my lattes and orgasms.
When there’s a knock on my study room door, I unlock it to find Nadiya on the other side. “Your dedication to your studies is killing me. Are you almost done?”
I turn and make a ta-da motion at my laptop and my notes strewn across my desk. “Probably another three hours of work.”
“Excellent,” she says, and she produces a bag from behind her back. “You can do those tomorrow, and you can come to the pub with me.”
I accept the gym bag from her, and I peer inside to find jeans and a crop top. Not exactly the shirt I would have selected for a pub when it’s December, but at least she brought me a change of clothes.
“Why are we going to a pub?” I drop the bag on the floor, and I shove my notes in my messenger bag along with my laptop.
“West is going there with some buddies from the lacrosse team.”
“So, are you and West...” She said their talk went okay last week, but the two of them are as different as night and day. They have nothing in common, and I don’t even think the sex was that great. Chemistry can’t be faked, and I’m not sure either of them truly feel it together.
“I don’t know. Maybe? Probably not. I can’t seem to let him go.” She gives me a helpless shrug.
I throw both bags over my shoulder, and then I put my other arm around her. “Then maybe we shouldn’t go to a pub, we should go to a club. And we should get you someone new.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready.” Nadiya bites her lip.
“Won’t know until you try. Let’s go home and form a better plan.”
I’ve rallied the troops, and in the Uber on the way to the club, I finally get a chance to read the messages Brent sent me earlier today.
The idea of reading them while trying to organize a night out didn’t sit right with me, so while the car glides through the city streets, I bask in his day.
He knew I had my phone off, so he sent me stream-of-consciousness diary entries. Some of them are hilarious.
“What’s that smile for?” Nadiya asks. “Faulkner message you? You look like that when he’s around.”
“Look like what?”
“Happy.” She rubs my shoulder.
He and I have spent so much time together that I haven’t analyzed or even considered how being around him makes me feel. It’s strange to think people see something in me that I hadn’t even realized myself. I text him back about my project and going out to a bar.