Chapter 16 #2
Before I can form a coherent response, Drew appears in his doorway, fully clothed and looking way too amused for someone who was supposedly jerking off. His hair is perfectly styled, not a strand out of place, and there’s no sign of the post-orgasm haze one would expect.
“As vice president of the Gerard Gunnarson Fan Club, Jackson is allowed to stare,” Drew says smoothly, coming to my rescue. “It’s in the bylaws.”
Elliot rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous. And you”—he points at me—“should be in there helping Drew instead of leaving him to handle things solo. What kind of boyfriend are you?”
My face somehow gets even hotter. “I—we—that’s not—”
“Come on, Jacky.” Drew grabs my arm and pulls me into his room.
“Use protection!” Gerard calls out helpfully from somewhere down the hall. “And remember, communication is key to a healthy relationship!”
Drew closes the door behind us and leans against it, that cocky grin still plastered on his face. “So, Jacky. Tell me—what brings you to the Hockey House at seven on a Saturday night? Miss me that much?”
I collapse into his desk chair, my legs still shaky from the visual assault of a naked Gerard. “Were you…” I gesture vaguely at his bed.
“What do you think?” His hazel eyes sparkle with mischief. “And would it bother you if I were?”
Yes, my brain screams. Because of the thought of you touching yourself, of your hand wrapped around your cock, of the faces you make when you come? “No,” I lie. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting the free show from Gerard.”
“Yeah, he’s been doing naked laps around the house all day. Something about letting his penis breathe.” Drew moves to sit on his bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. “But you didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”
Right. The reason I came over.
“This is kind of embarrassing.” I stare at my hands, fiddle with my fingers, anything that keeps me from locking eyes with Drew. “But I need to get it off my chest before it eats me alive.” I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I know I’m nothing like the guys you usually hook up with.”
Silence.
“They’re all…” I gesture helplessly. “Built like tanks. Rugby players with thighs thicker than pillars. Guys with shoulders wider than doorframes.”
Drew’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. “Jackson—”
“And then there’s me.” The words pour out faster now, unstoppable.
“Mr. Safe-Play Quarterback. I’m not aggressive, rough, or whatever it is you’re into.
I’m plain vanilla in a world of rocky road.
The kinkiest thing I’ve done is have sex in a minivan, whereas you’ve done it in the restroom at The Brew during rush hour.
” If the rumors are true. “I keep thinking you’re going to realize you made a mistake picking me for this whole fake dating thing because I’m so far from your type it’s not even funny. ”
“Stop.” Drew stands abruptly and moves to the window, resting his ass on the ledge. “Just…stop.”
I freeze. Shit. I’ve ruined everything. He’s going to tell me I’m right, that this was a mistake, that he wants nothing to do with me from this point on.
“My dad left when I was six. He packed up one day and walked out. I was the man of the house after that. Six years old, suddenly responsible for keeping Mom from falling apart and for making sure Patrick was fed and his diapers were changed. I had to pretend that everything was fine when it wasn’t.
You want to know why I hook up with guys who could break me in half without trying? ”
I nod, too afraid to speak. He’s telling me something that I’m pretty sure he’s never told anyone else. The weight of that realization rests heavily on my shoulders.
“Because they’re everything my dad was supposed to be.
Strong. Powerful. The kind of guys who could protect you, take care of you, keep you safe.
” He laughs, but it isn’t pleasant. “I’m trying to fill a void, Jackson.
I’m yearning for the strength and power I never had.
The guys I fuck—they give me something I’ve been missing since I was six. ”
My heart breaks a little. I want to go to him, but I’m frozen in the chair.
“That’s why I had such a pathetic crush on Coach Donovan freshman year.” Drew’s cheeks flush. “He was this commanding presence, you know? Made myself believe that if I could get him to want me, then maybe I’d finally be…I don’t know. Whole?”
“Drew.”
“And before you ask, no, I don’t have a daddy kink.” He says it defensively, like he’s had to clarify this before. “I just—fuck, this sounds pathetic. I need the kind of tough love that only a father can give.”
The room is suddenly too small. I stand up, needing to move, to process. “All those guys…”
“Were Band-Aids on a wound that never healed.” Drew slumps against the windowsill. “Pretty fucked up, right? Using sex to work through abandonment issues?”
“It’s not fucked up.” I move closer, stopping just out of reach. “It’s human.”
“Is it?” His hazel eyes search mine, for what, I do not know. “Because sometimes I think I’m broken, Jackson. Like there’s this piece missing that everyone else has, and no amount of meaningless hookups is going to fix it.”
“You’re not broken.” The words come out fiercely because I mean it with my whole heart. “You’re dealing. We all have our shit.”
“Yeah? What’s yours?”
Being desperately in love with my best friend, who’s only pretending to date me. “I collect Star Wars memorabilia and organize it by release date.”
That startles a laugh out of him. “That’s not trauma—that’s just nerdy.”
“Says the guy who memorized every Wayne Gretzky stat known to man.”
“That’s different. That’s hockey.”
The tension in the room eases slightly. Drew pushes away from the windowsill and moves closer. “You really think you’re not my type?”
My stomach flips. “I mean, have you seen your track record?”
“My track record is a trauma response. You want to know something else?”
“What?”
“You terrify me.”
I blink, not sure if I heard him correctly. “I terrify you? I’m about as threatening as a goldfish.”
“Exactly.” His hand comes up as though he’s going to touch my face, then drops, probably thinking better of it.
I try not to be too disappointed. “You’re good, Jackson.
Genuinely good. You don’t want me for my body or because I’m easy or because you’ve got some power trip fantasy.
And that’s scarier than any rugby player or academic adviser or whatever.
” The inches between us crackle with something dangerous.
His body is a furnace; I can’t help but lean toward it.
“Because what happens when you realize I’m not worth seeing? ”
I want to tell him he’s wrong, that he’s worth everything, that I’d spend the rest of my life making sure he knows it. But that would cross the line we’ve drawn. That would make this real.
“You are worth it,” I say instead. “Even if this is fake, even if we’re nothing more than best friends, you’ll always be worth seeing.”
His eyes darken, pupils dilating as they flicker down to my lips, then back up. The air between us thickens with possibility.
“Come here,” he says finally, pulling away from me and sitting on his bed.
He pats the space beside him, and my legs move without my permission, carrying me like a moth to a flame. I sit carefully, leaving a safe distance between us. Drew rolls his eyes and scoots closer until our thighs are touching.
Before I can protest, his hands are on my shoulders, positioning me so that I’m facing away from him. Then those long, thick fingers of his knead into the knots in my shoulders. “Jesus, you’re as rigid as a rock,” he murmurs, digging his thumbs into a particularly tight spot.
My entire body bursts into flames. Those are the same fingers that were wrapped around his cock minutes ago while he moaned. The mental image slams into me, and I bite back a whimper.
“Relax,” Drew says, his breath warm against my ear. “Let me take care of you.”
Let me take care of you. The words shouldn’t sound as filthy as they do, but my dick apparently has its own interpretation. I harden in my jeans, and panic sets in. This is not happening. Not here, not now.
His fingers dig into a spot beneath my right shoulder blade, and I let out an involuntary groan.
My eyelids flutter closed as his thumbs work circles into muscles that have apparently been tied in sailor’s knots for years.
My shoulders slump forward without permission, head dropping as heat spreads from his fingertips through my entire body.
My legs twitch with the urge to run, but I’m sinking backward instead, my weight shifting imperceptibly closer to his chest with each exhale.
Drew’s hands slide lower, and my dick throbs in response. I know he must notice how tense I’ve become. But his hands keep moving, working magic on muscles I didn’t know could be treated this well.
He leans in closer, and the heat of his body blankets me.
“You’re blushing, Jacky.” His lips hover close enough that each exhale raises goosebumps across my skin.
I dig crescents into my jeans with my fingernails while my toes curl in my new sneakers.
When he laughs, the sound rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest, a bass note that pulses through the thin cotton of my shirt where our bodies connect. “It’s cute.”
Cute. I’m going to die. Right here in Drew’s room with a raging hard-on because he called me cute.
“I didn’t get to finish, you know,” he says conversationally, like he’s discussing the latest episode of Downton Abbey instead of his masturbation habits. “Heard you and Gerard in the hall.”
“Sorry,” I squeak out.
“It’s fine. I’ll take care of it later.” His hands give my shoulders one last squeeze before pulling away. “After you leave.”
The nonchalant way he says it makes me cough. “I should—homework—I need to…” I scramble off the bed, highly aware of the obvious tent in my jeans. If Drew notices, he doesn’t comment.
“Sure you don’t want to stay?” He sinks back onto his bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other hand splayed carelessly across his stomach.
His shirt bunches up to reveal a strip of skin and the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his waistband.
His legs part just enough to make room…for me. “We could watch a movie…or something.”
Or something? God, fucking yes, please, “Can’t. Essay due Monday.”
I yank open the door and sprint into the hallway. As my luck would have it, my escape route is blocked by Gerard. He’s still gloriously naked and now attempting to straighten a picture frame on the wall.
“Everything good?” he asks, turning to face me with absolutely no shame about his continued state of undress.
“Great! Fine! Gotta go!” I sidestep around him, trying not to stare too long at his dick (failing) or his ass (also failing).
“Happy jerking!” Gerard calls after me, letting me know he heard everything.
I flip him a double finger salute, my face burning once more as I take the stairs two at a time. I burst out of the Hockey House, and the winter air does nothing to cool the fire beneath my skin.
My dick remains painfully hard as I speed-walk across campus. Every step reminds me of Drew’s fingers kneading my back, his breath on my ear, the promise that he’s going to finish himself off.
Little does he know, I’ll be doing the same.