Chapter 20 Donovan
Carrie has her head tucked between her knees, breathing hard.
I should ask whether she’s about to puke on my rug, but I can’t take my eyes off her back.
She’s wearing one of my jerseys, and seeing her wearing my name and number like that has got me hard.
She’s not the first girl to throw on my stuff, but this is the first time I’ve felt this way—comforted. Possessive, almost.
She seems more with it than she was earlier, and though I’m itching to do unspeakable things to her, she’s out of it, and I don’t want it like this. I want her to want it—I need her to send me a sign.
What happened to her whole sex-starved thing? Her urge to “use” me? We used to hook up at the drop of a hat, but she’s been on the defensive since she slammed on the brakes a few days ago. It all went to shit with her dumbass girlfriend idea.
I miss her skin against mine. Especially since that insane kiss. It’s crazy—we spent weeks hanging out, and I never felt this urge I’m dealing with now. I need her. All I can think about is being inside her. Her mouth all over mine.
She’s right there next to me in my bed, and it’s so hard to resist. My body is crying out for her. Think depressing thoughts. Someone keying your car, maybe. That should do it.
I should’ve taken her back to hers—kept things simple. I guess I just wanted to be around her a little while longer.
She glances over her shoulder, and I smile, patting the mattress beside me.
“Bedtime, young lady.”
Man, I want her so bad. But now’s not the time. She looks down at the space next to me, her eyes flickering from my hand to my face, and seeing her act all shy like this is putting me on edge. I bite my tongue. Now that I know exactly how she makes me feel, I need to think before I act.
“Your hair is amazing. Why do you always wear it up?”
“No compliments.” She winces.
“You’re weird, you know that?”
“I know. I’m the worst.”
You’re the best.
When finally she stretches out beside me, I make sure the comforter is doing a good job of hiding the bulge between my legs. I’m messed up. I bounce up and down a little on the bed.
“I like it nice and firm, do you?”
“You mean your mattress, right? I wouldn’t want to get the wrong idea…”
I laugh. “Yeah—the mattress.”
“It’s a great bed,” she murmurs.
Her stomach rumbles, and she rests her hands over her stomach.
“If you need to puke—”
“Don’t worry, I stopped drinking just in time.” She takes a breath in. “How was your night? Want to debrief?”
I think for a moment. “I guess you could say that putting our classes into practice was enlightening, at least.”
“But it didn’t pay off—”
I glance at her. “And you’re super sorry to hear that, huh?”
“I had great hopes for you—seems like I’m a crappy teacher, after all.”
“I disagree. You’re perfect.”
She turns to me, assessing.
“It’s no big deal,” I say. “I learned a hell of a lot tonight. Stuff I wasn’t expecting.”
“Like what?”
Like you’re beautiful…
I wiggle my eyebrows in response.
“I’m going to need some M&M’s,” she says.
I reach over to my bedside table and pull out a handful of condoms, raising an eyebrow. I’m half hoping she’ll lean over me and pull one off, but she crushes my fantasy in two short words.
“Keep looking.”
Dammit…
I tuck the condoms away, and fish out the only thing the girl wants from me tonight.
She munches through the packet, pausing now and then to sigh, and I hate how distant she can be. It makes me feel insecure, like she doesn’t enjoy hanging out as much as I do.
I can just feel the tension coming off her in waves.
I know she’s trying to put space between us, and I could make it all stop if I just opened my mouth and said what’s on my mind.
Hey, Carrie, I’ve been thinking—you’d be the perfect girlfriend for a loser like me.
Whaddaya say? Yeah. There’s no way that’s going down.
Maybe fucking the bad vibe away would be best for us.
Who are you kidding? The best I can do right now is to stop thinking about it all, get some sleep, and revisit it some other time with a clear head. I focus on her curls. They’re spread out around her, like she’s an angel.
“I really want to bury my face in your hair,” I blurt out. Fuck!
She lets out a soft, loose laugh—the tipsy kind. “Yeah, right.”
She sounds relaxed, though. Enough that I dare to touch a strand. I twirl it around my finger, and her eyes narrow when I lift it to my nose and inhale like a complete idiot.
It smells like grapefruit.
She stares at me, and I can’t get a read on her, so I scrunch up my lips, turning the lock of hair into a mustache.
“Bad boy,” she says, tugging it out of my fingers. “We should get some sleep.”
“Yup. I have a ride booked for tomorrow, too.”
I flick the switch, plunging the room into darkness.
A minute drifts by. Two minutes. Three.
“You asleep?” I whisper.
“I’m trying, but there’s some dude next to me who keeps waking me up.”
I rack my brain, searching for fragments of a lullaby, but I’m drawing blanks.
“Sleeeep, little chiiiiiild,” I sing, making the words up as I go. “Don’t snoooore, for a whiiiiile…”
“Please don’t tell me you’re doing what I think you’re doing.”
“We definitely need to sleep,” I protest. “So, it’s either this, or I knock you out.”
“Have you considered knocking yourself out?”
I carry on crooning my made-up lullaby.
“Okay, now I’m begging you,” she says, her voice muffled under a pillow. “Just kill me now.”
“Driiiiift awaaaay for a briiiiight new daaaaay…”
“This is officially the worst song ever. It’s actually making me want to never wake up.”
“Wait until we get to the second verse. The second verse rocks.”
I crank up the volume, putting on my best rock star voice, completely forgetting that my friends are probably fast asleep next door.
“You beeetter sleep tiiiiiight, aaaalll through the niiii—”
“Oh my God!”
The mattress gives as she rolls onto her side and throws herself on top of me, slapping a hand over my mouth. I fight back the urge to grab her thighs and shimmy her farther up me. The vision of her in my jersey on top of me might just kill me.
“I’m trying to find inner stillness, here!” she hisses. “So, either you shut the hell up, or you take me home. Because considering how exhausted you are—you’re pretty damn chatty.”
“Carrie—you don’t have to pretend to be mad to get me to screw you, you know.”
I place a hand on the small of her back, my eyes drifting down to her mouth.
“Don’t even think about it,” she warns, rolling back to her side of the bed and yanking the comforter over her.
“All I’m saying is it could help us sleep,” I try.
“I’m not having sex with you in your bed.”
“I could clear off the desk—”
“Good night, Donovan.”
She turns her back to me, and I have never wanted her this much before.
CARRIE FALLS INTO A DEEP, restless sleep—thrashing in the sheets and flailing, almost knocking me out with her foot and elbow. Somewhere in the early hours, I find her face inches from mine, her mouth half parted in the near dark.
I reach out a hand, and run my fingers over a curl.
Wow. Her hair is so incredibly soft. My mind is racing.
How can I make her get I want more from her?
She must have enjoyed the sex, or she wouldn’t have kept coming back for more—and when we kissed, she was just as into it as I was.
But maybe my imagination’s running wild.
After all, she just shut me down pretty sternly, and—fuck, I’m not used to overthinking shit like this. My confidence has hit rock bottom.
I prize two stray M&M’s out of the palm of her hand and lean over to put them on the bedside table, like I’m laying out an offering to the gods. I scoot back over to my side of the bed, but I can’t stop staring at her face.
You can’t kiss a girl in her sleep, dude. Think consent.
I squeeze my eyes shut, twirling a strand of her hair around my finger instead, praying for sleep. Finally, I drift off, totally wiped from all the rumination.
I DREAM THAT CARRIE’S STRADDLING me, her hair hanging around her like a cloak. I’m obsessed with her hair. I’m obsessed with her.
I turn my head to the side. Carrie is gone. I jump out of bed and head for the kitchen.
Adam is standing at the sink, rinsing out a coffee cup. “Looking for Carrie?”
“Where’d she go?”
“I was chilling on the couch when she left. I pretended to be asleep so it wasn’t awkward.”
“I didn’t hear her get up. Fuck…” I sigh.
“Did you guys—”
“Nope.”
Adam winces. “Sorry to hear that. You gonna be okay?”
He jerks his chin at my crotch.
“I think I’ll survive,” I deadpan.
“Dude, go take a shower while I bleach my eyes.”
“Please.” I snort. “You’ve seen way worse in this apartment.”
He pushes me to the hallway. “Get the fuck outta here.”
As I drag myself into the bathroom, I can’t help but think it absolutely sucks that Carrie left like that. We could’ve had breakfast together. Slowly but surely, she’s completely shredding my ego. She’s like my own personal blender, smooshing all my moods together, and fucking with my head.
I take an ice-cold shower and I’m toweling myself off when I spot her bra crumpled on the floor between the bathtub and the sink. I bend down.
“Great,” I sigh.
I hold it up for a better view. Dark red—it’s definitely hers. Just what I needed.
Back in my room, I toss the bra on the bed and collapse onto the mattress, groaning into the pillow, breathing in the trace of her scent, smelling her everywhere. On my sheets, on my skin, on the jersey she wore to bed—the one that’s folded up on my bedside table now.
I squint. The stray M&M’s have gone, and I don’t know why, but knowing she ate them makes me glad.
I roll onto my back and reach for her bra, shrugging the straps over my arms and arranging the cups over my pecs. I grab my phone and pull my best duckface.
DONOVAN: You forgot something!
I hit send.
CARRIE: OMG! Take it off! NOW!
DONOVAN: Nuh-uh. This is so silky soft against my nipples…
CARRIE: Ewww! Burn it, then!