Chapter 2 – Philip Underwood #2
Jason pats my back. “It’s okay, big guy.
Let’s get Haley unpacked and go grab some lunch.
” He frowns as he consults an app on his phone.
Jason reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out what looks like a protein bar.
Without a word, he opens one end of it and hands it to Layla, who takes a bite.
“Her sugar’s low,” he explains when he notices me watching.
As the girls unpack the boxes, the guys and I break them down.
“Where do you want these?” I ask Haley.
“I guess we can put them under my bed for now.”
It’s not long before Haley’s clothes are hanging in her closet, her laptop is on her desk, and her personal items are tucked away in her dresser drawers.
She puts the pillow she brought from home on her bed, along with her favorite stuffed animal, a floppy elephant named Ellie—she calls it her emotional support elephant.
On our way out, we lock the door and head for the stairs.
As we’re walking through the downstairs lobby, we come across a room with a plaque above the doorway that says STUDENT MAILBOXES.
We make a brief detour into the room so Haley can locate hers.
There’s a large wall with row after row of open cubbies, each one labeled with a student’s name.
They’re in alphabetical order, so we quickly locate DONOVAN, H.
Her mailbox is already cram packed with what looks like junk mail.
Haley pulls the items out and quickly flips through them. “All junk,” she says as she drops the items one by one into a recycling bin.
We exit her building and turn right to head to that little shopping district we passed through on the drive in.
Now that Haley’s officially settled into her dorm, I can finally relax a bit.
We hold hands on the walk, leisurely taking in the sights.
The ivy-covered brick buildings are very old-school, with classic architecture.
Students mill around the grounds, sitting on park benches in the green spaces or in groups on the well-manicured lawns.
I squeeze Haley’s hand. “Are you excited about classes starting Monday?” I know she’s been eager for this day to come. She’s talked about it all year long.
“I’m getting there.” As she smiles up at me, her dark eyes are bright, and the tears are gone. She’s not fooling me—she’s excited.
When we reach Lafayette Street, we survey our numerous options for lunch and end up choosing an independent little pizzeria that looks good. When we step inside, we realize we made the right choice. It smells even better than it looks.
The restaurant isn’t very busy at the moment, so we’re seated right away. After we order our food, Haley texts her parents—all four of them—to let them know her stuff has been moved into the dorm and she’s doing fine.
While we’re sitting in the restaurant eating and chatting, I notice Layla zoning out. She seems distracted as she stares off into space. Jason’s watching her closely, so I’m guessing he’s concerned.
This is nothing new for Layla, unfortunately. She experiences frequent auditory hallucinations. She calls them mean girl voices. Mean girls trash talk her—at least in her head—putting her down, ridiculing her, tormenting her.
Jason pulls a pair of wired earbuds out of his pocket and taps her shoulder gently to get her attention.
She turns to him, her gaze a bit distant, but when she notices the earbuds in his palm, she nods as she connects them to her phone and slips the buds into her ears.
Listening to music is the only thing that effectively drowns out the hateful voices in her head.
Jason cups the back of her neck and gently massages it. “She’s had a busy day,” he says to me when he notices I’m observing their interaction. “The hallucinations are worse when she’s tired. We should head home soon.”
Layla looks far more relaxed thanks to the distraction of the music. She’s making eye contact with us again and smiling.
After we’re done eating, we make the short walk back to campus. The other couples hop into Jason’s car to head home.
Haley and I wave goodbye as they drive away.
When they’re out of sight, Haley glances up at me. “Can you stay a while longer?”
I reach for her hand. “I’ll stay as long as you want, sweetheart. Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”
“How about forever?” she asks with a playful smile on her face.
If only she knew how much I want that, too.
* * *
When we’re back in Haley’s dorm room, we make her bed with the sheets and comforter she brought from home.
I set up her laptop and connect it to the building’s Wi-Fi—the password is conveniently taped to the top of her desk—and a small laser printer that sits on top of the mini fridge.
I’m guessing the girls will share the printer, too.
While I’m setting up her electronics, Haley puts items away in her nightstand drawers.
When she’s done, she wanders over to the other girl’s desk, which is neatly organized. Her roommate has set out her laptop, a cup filled with pens and pencils, a note pad, and a stapler.
Haley holds up an envelope she found lying on her roommate’s desk. “I hope she’s nice.”
“Who?”
“Melissa Becker.” Haley skims the titles of a stack of textbooks on her roommate’s desk. “Human Biology, Careers in Medicine, Anatomy and Physiology, and Art History. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess she’s pre-med, probably majoring in biology.”
“I’d say that’s a good guess.”
I kick off my sneakers and take a seat on Haley’s bed, my back propped against the plain wooden headboard. I hold out my arms to her, and she joins me on the bed. It’s a tight fit for the both of us.
“It’s too bad there’s no room for a sofa in here,” I say. “This is the only place to sit beside your desk chair.”
She frowns. “This room isn’t designed for hosting guests, is it?”
“I guess it keeps the partying down.”
She reaches for my hand and links our fingers. “I wish I didn’t have to live in the dorm. I’d love to have an apartment of my own off campus. Then we’d have a private place to hang out.”
I stroke the back of her hand. “That would be nice.”
“We could hang out at your place.”
“Yeah, but your dad’s apartment is just down the hall from mine.”
The sound of her soft laughter sinks deep into my bones, making me want things I don’t think she’s ready to give.
“So? My dad said we could date.”
“He did.” As she brushes the back of my hand with her thumb, goosebumps travel up my arm. “But somehow I don’t think he wants a reminder right under his nose.”
She grins. “True.”
“We’ll figure something out. I could move to a different apartment building.”
She frowns. “No. You’d miss living close to your friends.”
I cup her cheek with my free hand. “Don’t tell the guys, but I’d much rather hang out with you than with them.”
Her dark eyes light up, and if I’m not mistaken, she’s blushing.
God, she’s so sweet.
And so damn innocent.
I know for a fact she’s never had a boyfriend before me. She’s a virgin, and that concerns me. I’ve never been with a virgin before.
Without warning, Haley moves to sit astride me, facing me. I clamp my hands on her bare thighs, and again there’s that incredibly soft skin. Already I’m getting hard, and I’m sure she can feel my growing erection through my jeans.
Mentally, I start reviewing the roster for the Chicago Cubs baseball team in an effort to distract myself from the fact she’s sitting on me. I know it’s a cliché to think about baseball as a distraction from thinking about sex, but it really does work.
Somehow my hands find themselves on her hips. When she scoots forward, I realize if we weren’t wearing clothes I could slide right inside her.
She’s a virgin.
I’m big.
There’s no way I can avoid hurting her our first time. It’s just a biological fact. And the idea of hurting her makes me mental.
Haley gazes into my eyes, studying me like she’s searching for the answers to all the questions in the universe. Her pupils are dilated. Her soft cheeks are a pretty shade of pink.
Don’t think about pink right now.
I’m imagining her pink pussy. Of course, I’m making an assumption here because I haven’t actually seen it myself—not yet. But my God, the temptation is sometimes more than I can bear.
“Philip?”
I meet her gaze. “Hmm?”
“Thank you for helping me move in today.”
“You’re very welcome.”
She brushes her thumbs across my cheeks, and the heat from her touch radiates through me, settling low in my groin.
This is torture, and yet I don’t want it to ever stop.
When she leans in to kiss me, her soft lips brush lightly against mine. Her touch is hesitant, shy almost, and my dick grows harder.
I envy Jason and Liam because they live with their girlfriends. They share their lives with their partners, day in and day out. Evenings, nights, mornings. With Haley just starting college, I don’t see us reaching that stage for a long time.
But God, I want to fall asleep with her in my arms every night, and I want to wake up with her in my bed every morning. I want us to cook meals together, do the dishes together, the laundry. I want to kill spiders for her. “Are you afraid of spiders?”
Her eyes widen at that non sequitur. “Not really. I used to be when I was little, but not anymore.” She glances around the bed like maybe there’s something she should be aware of. “Maybe a tarantula, but not regular household spiders. Why?”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
I want her.
I want to be part of her life and give her the world. I want her to need me, to rely on me. I want to be the one she comes to when she needs something, anything, big or small.
She kisses me again, although this time she’s more confident. Her lips nudge mine apart, and she runs her tongue along my lower lip.
I groan.
Loudly.
I cup the back of her head, my fingers slipping into her hair, and hold her close so I can deepen the kiss.
She moves on me then, hesitantly brushing herself against the ridge of what is now my full-blown erection. When she rolls her hips on me, lightly pressing herself against me, she moans softly.
I close my eyes and revel in the feel of her against me. Even with our clothes on, I can detect her body’s heat. I lean my head back on the headboard and groan. “God, Hale, you’re killing me.”
When she chuckles, her breath tickles my cheek. And then she presses her lips to my throat, and I see stars.
Fuck, she could come like this, rubbing herself against me, and if she did, I’d come right after her, in my underwear. I’d make a hell of a mess, but I’d sure be a happy man.
“Philip.” My name is a breathy sigh of pleasure.
“Hmm?” I slide my hands down her back to cup her ass cheeks and urge her closer. When I trail kisses up her throat, she melts into me with a soft moan.
We are so close to crossing a line I don’t think we’re ready for. And I don’t know how much longer I can be a gentleman.