Chapter 9 Colt
Colt
October
I’m sitting around at Book and Drew’s house with my team, waiting for dinner, when I get a text.
Stella
Stella: Hey, can we talk?
Immediately, I’m on edge. It’s rarely a good thing when a girl starts a conversation that way.
We’ve been casually texting all weekend, and I’ve felt glued to my phone the entire time.
Every time my screen would light up, my stomach somersaulted in anticipation, excited to keep talking to this girl.
Stella
Stella: Hey, can we talk?
Me: Sure, what’s up?
Stella: I mean, in person. Can I come over?
Me: We’re over at the guy’s house for dinner, but I can pick you up on the way home?
Stella: Okay. Let me know when you’re on the way!
I thumbs up her message, acknowledging that I read it, but I’m not any less curious. From the texts, I can’t tell if this is going to be a good conversation or a bad one.
Drew might be a goofy SOB, but the man knows his way around a grill. It’s Sunday night, and he invited us and some of the other guys over for beers and burgers and to watch the Eagles game.
We lost our hockey game this weekend, effectively killing our winning streak, and the team was in major need of a pick-me-up.
I’m debating ditching the boys and going straight to Stella’s when Pete Simmons walks in with a tray of burgers from the back porch.
They smell heavenly, but the thought of staying through an entire meal, anxiously anticipating whatever it is she wants to talk about, is nearly too much for me to handle.
“Colt?” Beau asks, nudging his shoulder into mine from next to me on the couch. I realized I’ve been spaced out for the last couple of minutes while everyone else has already gotten up to make a plate.
“Oh, sorry, I’m good.”
“Dude, you’ve been worrying me lately. You’ve been, I don’t know, distracted for the last couple of weeks.
” Beau looks at me as if he can stare into my brain, into my soul, if he just doesn’t blink.
Beau Warren is the most steadfast friend a guy could ever ask for.
He was my rock when my mom died, and my dad was half gone with grief.
The roles were reversed when Gracie, his sister, went missing.
We’ve had each other’s backs for as long as I can remember, and have never shied away from emotional conversation.
The two of us have been through too much therapy to pretend we can’t talk about our feelings.
“It’s nothing, man. I just really have it bad for Stella.”
He arches an eyebrow at me, unsure why this is a problem.
Talking about her should be easy compared to the past. There’s nothing wrong this time. I’ve just gone and caught feelings for the first time since my dad passed, and I don’t know what to do with them.
Stella and I haven’t seen a whole lot of each other, but we’ve been texting back and forth some.
What started as a quick question about our project I sent after our talk in the stairwell spiraled into one of those text conversations that just roll over into the next day.
It’s been a near-constant stream of get-to-know-you questions, funny comebacks, late-night stories, and stupid memes.
“Really, Beau, I swear I’m fine,” I respond, shooting what I hope is a placating smile at him.
He gives me one more hard look before nodding. “Come on, let’s go eat before there’s nothing left.”
After dinner, the Eagles game plays in the background as casual conversation and good-natured horsing around fill the house. I try to be present in the moment with my team, but my anxiety level keeps ratcheting ever higher the longer I go without knowing what Stella wants to talk about.
“Sorry, boys, I’m gonna have to go,” I announce to my teammates who are scattered about the TV room.
“Dude,” says Noah “Gally” Gallagher, our goalie, in disbelief. “We just got here.”
“Duty calls,” I respond noncommittally, holding up my phone for emphasis.
Beau glares at me, still not convinced that everything’s fine with me. He’s been extra attentive, making sure I’m not going to spiral into some depressive episode and not letting me be alone for too long.
“If you’re ditching for a chick, she better be fine as hell,” comments Simmons.
“She’s a ten-out-of-ten,” I call back, walking out the front door before any of them can try to talk me out of it.
I hop in my truck and text Stella that I’m heading her way. It’s only a ten-minute drive, but it feels like an eternity.
Stella is standing on the sidewalk when I pull up, bundled in a sweater and a coat. She climbs in the passenger seat and immediately turns on the seat heater.
“It is freezing out there!” she exclaims, holding her hands in front of the vent.
“Well, it is fall, sweetheart,” my reply comes dripping in sarcasm, “it’s not supposed to be warm.”
“Lose the attitude, Crosby, or I won’t tell you what I’ve decided.” Her threat would be a lot more intimidating if I couldn’t see the humor and anticipation in her eyes.
“Is that so?” I ask, egging her on. Now that I know from her cheery attitude that this isn’t going to be a bad conversation, I’m dying to know what she has to say.
“Is Beau at your friends’ house?” she asks, catching me off guard.
“Yeah, they were watching the football game. He won’t be home for a few hours, at least,” I answer.
“Okay. Let’s go back to your place, then we’ll talk.” She doesn’t give me any more hints about what is going on. In fact, she spends the rest of the drive humming along to my music, not saying another word until we’re walking in the front door of my apartment.
When she finally speaks, her words stop me in my tracks.
“I think we should hook up.” The brief silence that engulfs the room is palpable.
“Hold on,” I raise a pointed finger. “I’m going to need you to say that again. I think I misheard.”
She walks around so that she’s standing directly in front of me.
Even though she’s tall, she still has to tilt her head back to meet my eyes.
She doesn’t repeat herself, knowing that I heard her perfectly fine the first time.
Her nose is almost brushing mine, the feel of her breath against my lips making me weak at the knees.
I’m dreaming. There’s no way this is real life.
My dick grows incredibly hard in my jeans, but I ignore it, trying to be a respectful, responsible adult.
“I thought you wanted to talk.” My voice comes out mildly strained, and it causes her to smile deviously because she knows the effect she’s having on me.
Stella rests both hands on my chest, lightly digging her fingertips in. Her scent overwhelms me, and I find myself gripping her waist and pulling her closer.
“Kiss me first. We can talk after,” she whispers into my lips.
I let my apprehension fly out the window, pressing my lips to hers without another thought. She’s soft and warm and tastes like mint and heaven. I groan into her mouth as her tongue meets mine.
Reaching around, I pick her up under her thighs, and she wraps her legs around my waist. With my hands on her ass and her hot core pressed against me, I almost come in my pants. Damn, this girl makes me feel like it’s my first time.
I walk us to the kitchen, not even bothering to turn on any lights.
When I set her on the countertop, she immediately starts tugging my shirt over my head.
Her shirt is next to go. I groan again at the sight of her perfect tits dressed up in a black bra.
I bend down and start sucking on the swells, no doubt leaving a mark.
Her throaty sigh sends a tingle down my spine, making my dick throb with need.
I trail kisses back up her chest, over her collar bone, tracing the side of her throat with my tongue. Stella’s hands run down the length of my torso, scraping her nails over my abs. The sensation of everything her is damn near overwhelming.
Reaching a hand up from her hips, I gingerly trace a finger over the edge of the bra’s cup, causing her to shiver.
“Colt. Please.” Her breaths come out in pants as she brings her hands up around my neck and into my hair. She arches into my touch, encouraging me to move faster.
“Stella,” I rasp, knowing I should say something, but all rational thought keeps slipping through my grasp.
Her hands explore their way back down my chest, only stopping when she’s reached the zipper of my pants, where she holds her fingers but doesn’t move to strip me of any more clothing just yet, as if she’s waiting for my permission.
Pulling myself away from her lips, my gaze connects with hers, those emerald eyes pulling on my soul in a way I’ve never experienced before.
She blinks, breaking the connection, but doesn’t move away. Instead, she tugs down one of her bra straps, nearly exposing herself to me. My hand darts up, stopping her before she does, rational thought finally making its way back to the forefront of my mind.
“Stella, sweetheart, as much as I’m enjoying this, I need you to talk to me first. What caused the change of heart?”