Chapter 5 Colt
Colt
We’ve been arguing over a topic for the last forty-five minutes. Stella wants to write about a political piece, like Macbeth or Julius Caesar.
I think, for a project like this, the obvious answer is to write about love.
“Come on, Stell. You know a romantic tragedy holds a bigger bang. We could do a comparison of Bronte versus Bronte: Wuthering Heights compared to Jane Eyre. Or I was also thinking Pride and Prejudice versus The Great Gatsby.” She looks at me like I’m offering to pull her teeth out with rusty pliers.
“I just don’t know about it, Colt,” is all she responds with.
“You don’t date, and you don’t want to do our presentation over a romantic story. Do you just hate love? Is that it?” I ask teasingly.
The way she hesitates makes me sit up straighter. “Oh my God, you actually hate love,” I say in shock.
“I don’t hate love,” she rebuts, trying to defend herself.
“I just think that the idea of romantic love is so misconstrued. People today don’t even know what love means.
They just think with their genitals and then end up hurt and screwed over later down the road.
Real ‘love’ is just in stories, and it ends as soon as the book cover is closed or the screen goes black.
” I can see on her face that she truly believes everything she just said.
She must have some really shitty exes if that’s the way she feels.
“Well, sweetheart, you’ve just settled our debate. We’re going to do the project my way, and you’re going to learn all about true love.”
She scoffs. “Fine. But you aren’t going to change my mind. I’ve had enough proof in my life that men are incapable of loving someone unconditionally.”
“You said ‘men’ that time,” I point out, squinting my eyes.
“What?”
“The first time, you said ‘people’ don’t know what love is. The second time, you said ‘men.’” I lean over and tug on the end of her braid, closing some of the distance between us. “Who hurt your heart badly enough that you won’t let anyone else even try to fix it?”
I don’t miss the way her eyes flick to my mouth or how her breath quickens. Instead of giving in like I know she wants to, she leans back and looks down at the computer in her lap.
“Which books should we compare?” she diverts.
“I think it’s time we take a break. Come on, let’s go find a snack.” I roll off the bed and offer her a hand. Reluctantly, she takes it and follows me to the kitchen.
The boys are still sitting on the couch. Although the game they were watching is over, the TV is still playing as they all scroll on their phones.
“Aren’t you assholes ever going to go home?” I call as we walk past.
Booker ignores me, and Drew flips me the bird. I chuckle as Beau says, “I’ve been trying to kick them out for twenty minutes.” Drew flips him off, too.
“What sounds good?” I ask Stella, reaching for the fridge.
“Pizza,” Beau suggests, hopping up from his seat. Stella is leaning her elbows on the island counter across from me, and I see Beau take a good, long look at her as he walks over.
I love the guy, but it makes me want to knock his teeth in. He must see the look on my face because he chuckles silently and sits in one of the barstools next to her.
“So, you and him really aren’t hooking up?” Beau asks Stella, leaning in close to her.
She doesn’t look at all surprised by his question. She just dips her head and sighs. “No, Beau, I am not sleeping with Colt. Is that clear enough for you?” She looks back at him with a glint in her eye, trying to look annoyed and failing.
“Crystal clear, baby. He slept with your roommate, you know. How do you feel about returning the favor?”
At this, Stella throws her head back in an honest-to-God laugh. “Are you seriously propositioning me right in front of him?” she asks, voicing my own question.
“Seriously, dude, what the fuck? Not cool.” I hear Booker and Drew snicker from the couch, and it’s my turn to flip them off. Turning back to the fridge, I rummage around for a frozen pizza to throw in the oven as a midnight snack.
“I know how Colt is. He’s undoubtedly already tried hitting on you.
If you aren’t sleeping with him, it means you aren’t interested.
And as much as that sucks for him, I’m not dumb enough to let you walk away without trying my luck.
” Beau’s explanation puts a sour taste in my mouth.
He’s right, she has turned me down. But I felt the chemistry when we kissed.
I feel the tension every time we’re together.
Of course I want to sleep with her, but she’s not the type of girl you fuck and forget. I’ve enjoyed getting to know her, and I want to keep trying to break through her hard exterior.
“I admire your bravery, really,” Stella tells Beau, “but I’m going to have to pass.”
Beau doesn’t let her rejection bruise his ego. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Then he walks back to the couch as if nothing happened.
Now that the entertainment’s over, Booker and Drew stand up and announce they’re heading home. Drew’s a junior, like Beau and I, but he lives in a house right outside of town with Booker and a couple of other senior players.
Once I put the pizza in the oven, I gesture for Stella to follow me back to my room and shut the door behind us.
“I’m sorry about him. That’s just the way Beau is. He makes everything about sex.” My apology sounds tense to my own ears.
“Don’t worry, I figured that much out when I got here,” she replies.
“Do you want to watch something on TV?” I ask, lying back down on the bed. I don’t like how awkward things feel between us all of a sudden. Beau just had to go and act like a dickhead.
“Sure. You can choose whatever, I’m not picky.” She climbs up next to me, only this time she sits closer than before. I wonder if it’s because she’s trying to make me feel better—signal that my dumbass roommate didn’t turn her against me.
I turn on Outlander since I saw the books on the shelves in her room.
When the oven sounds that our food is done, I slice the pizza and bring it back for us to eat in my room.
“You’re not worried about getting crumbs in the bed?” she asks.
“Nah, it’s not like we’re under the sheets. We can just wipe them off.”
She eats three pieces, and I eat five. Before we know it, we’ve watched three episodes in companionable silence.
She picks up her phone and checks the time. “Holy shit, it’s two in the morning! I need to leave!” She jumps up and starts gathering her things.
“Did you drive here?” I ask, concerned about her driving while tired.
“No, I don’t have my car here. It’s back in Georgia. I Ubered.”
“I don’t think you’ll be able to call a ride this late on a Monday night,” I inform her. On the weekends, sure, but not now in this small town.
Pulling out her phone, she checks the rideshare app anyway. “Ugh, you’re right.” She chews on her lip, anxiously mulling over her options.
“Do you want me to drive you home?” I ask. I might be too tired to drive as well, but at least it’s the gentlemanly thing to do, ask.
She must see the exhaustion on my face, though, because she shakes her head no. “I don’t have class tomorrow until after lunch. Do you care if I crash on the couch? I’ll get a ride home in the morning.”
“Of course not. I have a T-shirt and an extra toothbrush you can use. But you might not want to sleep on the couch. You might find Beau cuddled up next to you,” I joke. My words seem to scare her, though, because all the blood drains from her face.
“Hey, hey, I was kidding. Beau might be a little bit of a slut, but he’s not a creep. You can sleep wherever you want.”
This is the second time I’ve seen her panic at the thought of unwanted advances from a man. I’m starting to paint a really ugly picture in my head that something bad happened to her, and the thought makes my stomach roll.
“Can—can I just sleep in here?” she asks.
“Of course. I’ll go to the couch. No worries.” I get up and grab her a clean T-shirt and a pair of shorts to sleep in. Then I show her where the extra toothbrushes are located in the bathroom.
While she’s changing, I grab a pillow and an extra blanket and go make camp on the couch for the night, but my mind is racing too fast for me to fall asleep.
“Dude, why the hell are you on the couch?” Beau asks, flipping on the light in the living room, pulling a groan out of me.
I pull my pillow out from under my head and cover my face to block out the light. “Stella’s in my bed,” I mumble into it.
“Again, why the hell are you on the couch?” he reiterates.
“We stayed up too late for her to get a ride back to campus, so I was being a gentleman—something you’ve never heard of—and let her sleep in my bed,” I say grumpily. I roll off the couch and start a cup of coffee.
I have to piss like a racehorse, so I quietly sneak into my room and then to my bathroom.
When I finish, I hear Stella stirring. I feel bad the flush woke her up, but I’ve got morning conditioning today, so I really needed her to get up so I can take her home before heading to the rink.
As I make my way back into my room, I leave the bathroom light on to see by. Stella is sitting up in bed and stretches her arms in a yawn. Seeing her, hair all mussed from sleep, in my bed wearing my clothes makes my dick twitch.
I’m so down bad for this girl. Everything she does gets me hot, and she has no idea. I’ve never been this attracted to someone in such a short amount of time. Sure, I had a couple of girlfriends in high school, but this is different.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I greet her with a grin. “Are you good if I take a quick shower?” I ask her.
She nods her head, still rubbing sleep from her eyes, and yawns again. She’s definitely not a morning person.
I don’t need a shower, but if I don’t take care of this hard-on now, I’m just going to keep thinking about her in my bed all damn day.
I strip out of my sweatpants and step onto the tiled floor. I grip the base of my cock as I think about how badly I’ve wanted to fuck Stella for the past week. My dick aches, knowing she’s right on the other side of the door.
I think about how she felt in my arms outside the bar. I recall the way her body felt against mine, her tits pressed into my chest. Fuck. I start stroking myself faster as I remember the breathy little moans she made when my tongue was in her mouth.
I pretend it’s her mouth on me now. What I would give to have her come in here and blow me.
Her on her knees before me, my hand wrapped in her silky hair.
Her perfect lips wrapped around my cock, teasing me with her tongue.
My imagination travels to me fucking her from behind, watching that perfect ass bounce as I take her against the shower wall.
With each image, I speed up, my balls aching with need.
I feel the telltale prick of orgasm starting at the base of my spine, and I continue pumping myself faster, each thought of her is more depraved than the last. I have to swallow the groan that tries to escape my throat as I come in my hand.
I stand there, panting, letting the water flow into my hair and down my back. Maybe I should forget trying to get her to agree to a date; maybe I should take a page from Beau’s playbook and just see if she’s down to hook up instead.
But I know I want more than that with her.
I can feel it. I know that she would change my world without even trying.
That’s how down bad I am for her. It’s only been a little over a week, and I feel like I’ve known her my whole life.
I would be devastated if I came on too strong and she decided to stop talking to me altogether.
No, I decide, I can’t risk scaring her off just yet by acting like a horny teenager. For now, I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing and try to win her over the old-fashioned way.
With my charming personality.