Briar
Itry to ignore that flip in my tummy as Blake leads me down the street toward my new favorite taco truck while holding my hand.
It’s eleven o’clock at night, but this street on the edge of the Hollis U campus is crowded. This is the first week of the fall semester, so students are headed in every direction to work or study or party.
A trio of female students approaches us. They all gawk at Blake. One of them trips on the sidewalk and giggles.
I don’t blame them. Blake is insanely hot.
He’s so tall. Almost 6’5”. And he’s in incredible shape. Even through the Hollis U Men’s Hockey T-shirt he’s wearing, it’s obvious how ripped he is.
He’s not huge. More lean than bulky, which makes sense since he’s the fastest left winger on the school’s hockey team.
He looks more like a hot surfer than a hockey player, with his shaggy, golden-blond hair, perfect teeth, and boyishly handsome smile.
Everywhere I go with him, women and men are constantly staring at him. Me included.
One of the women walking by looks down at our joined hands. She looks up at me and mouths, “So lucky.” Her two friends giggle as they pass us.
My face heats, and I can’t help the small burst of pride that shoots through me. A second later, it fades. This is so silly. I have no right to feel that way. Blake isn’t even mine.
I wish he was though.
I look up at him. He’s gazing straight ahead, totally oblivious. He didn’t even notice those three girls checking him out. He hardly ever notices when anyone checks him out. It’s one of the reasons I’m attracted to him. He has no idea how insanely handsome he is.
He gives my hand a squeeze before he lets go and tugs on the front of his shirt. I hold in a whine at the loss of contact. I love it when he holds my hand. I love the way his massive palm swallows up my entire hand.
When we cross the street and turn the corner, Blake suddenly stops walking and looks at me expectantly.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.
I frown, confused. “What are you…”
I trail off as he moves to the other side, between me and the street. He starts to smile. “I always walk between you and the street.”
A wide grin splits my face. “Oh. Right.”
We start walking toward the taco stand, which is at the end of the block.
“You’re such a gentleman,” I tease.
“It’s common decency,” Blake says.
“Not all guys do that.”
“They should. What if there’s a car that loses control and hops onto the sidewalk? Or what if a crazed cyclist decides to start riding like a maniac on the curb? That’s what I’m here for. To be your meat shield.”
I laugh so hard, I almost trip. “Meat shield?”
He grins proudly. “Yeah. You’ve never heard that before?”
I shake my head, still laughing.
When I finally stop, I wipe my eyes. “Blake, I think if some rogue semi-truck hopped the curb, we’d both be goners.”
“Nope. I’d push you out of the way.”
Tingles glide through my chest. This is why I have a massive crush on Blake Morrissey.
He’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. Yeah, he’s hot, but he’s also kind and protective and funny.
No one makes me laugh harder than him. No one makes me feel this safe and comfortable—like I can be myself, always.
I’ve liked him since the day I met him freshman year of high school. The first few months we were friends, I was hoping he’d ask me out. But he never did. At first, I thought it was because he was shy. But he never made a move.
Looking back, I could have asked him out first, but I was so timid and awkward as a fourteen-year-old. When he never did, I figured it was because he didn’t like me in that way. He just wanted to be friends.
I was disappointed, but I was happy to have him as a friend. And that’s what we’ve been to each other for the past seven years: best friends.
Except there are times when my crush flares up.
Like when he does something especially swoon-worthy and sweet.
Like tonight, when he pretends to be my boyfriend to get rid of a guy who won’t take a hint.
And like freshman year of high school when my first boyfriend and I broke up, and Blake took me out for tacos to cheer me up.
I get these tingles all over my body, and my skin feels hot. My heart beats faster in my chest. I’m totally overwhelmed by how much I like him.
So I try to counteract it because I know he doesn’t like me in that way. I’ll tell him how much his friendship means to me. Or I’ll say that he’s like a brother to me.
Even though he’s not. Not even close.
I just say that to remind myself that Blake isn’t interested in anything romantic with me. He just wants to be my friend.
We walk up to the taco truck and get in line. When it’s our turn to order, I greet the guy in Spanish.
“Could I have two carnitas tacos, please? With extra onion and cilantro too?” I say in Spanish.
His brow raises like he’s impressed. “Yeah, of course. Your Spanish is great, by the way.”
“Thank you. I’m majoring in Spanish at Hollis. And French.”
He turns away and hollers something to the cook in the back. I chuckle.
“What did he say?” Blake asks.
“He said, ‘This blonde girl speaks better Spanish than you do.’”
Blake laughs, then turns to the guy to order.
“Could I get ten steak ranchero burritos, please?”
The guy’s eyes go wide. “Sorry, how many?”
“Ten, please.”
He speaks quickly to the guy in the back before turning back to Blake. “We have enough to make three. That okay?”
Blake just laughs. I’m laughing too.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Blake says.
He pays with his credit card, and we step off to the side to wait for our food. I hand him cash to pay for my food and his, but he shakes his head.
“Blake, come on. Take it.”
“Nope.”
I tilt my head at him. “You’re already letting me stay at your place for free. At least let me pay for this.”
He crosses his arms over his broad chest. My gaze snags on his forearms. So thick and muscular with a million veins popping out…
“I’ve got it, Briar. Put your money away.”
My tummy flips at the slight growl in his low tone. His voice doesn’t normally sound like this. So…rough. And bossy. I like it.
“Okay. Thank you,” I say softly as I put my cash back in my pocket.
As we stand on the sidewalk, I think about how this is yet another thing that makes Blake irresistible. His generosity.
He’s been letting me stay in his bedroom for free while I hunt for a new apartment after the place I was supposed to move into fell through.
I think about when I called him sobbing after ending things with my ex-boyfriend, Logan.
It was the middle of the night. Blake was dead asleep, but he stayed up and comforted me for almost two hours.
He didn’t push me to tell him what happened—what caused our breakup.
A sick feeling drags through my gut just thinking about what Logan did….how he hurt me…what he got away with…
I didn’t have the strength to rehash it. Even just thinking about it now makes me spiral.
But Blake didn’t ask me a million questions. He listened patiently. He told me it would all be okay.
When I told him I wanted to move back home to Colorado and transfer to Hollis, he dropped everything to help me.
He got me in touch with a new advisor and helped me submit all my paperwork to the registrar’s office.
He invited me to hang out with his teammates and their girlfriends so I wouldn’t be totally alone.
He’s the best person I know.
A guilty feeling lodges in my throat. He’s done so many kind things for me. I wish he’d let me do something in return for him. It feels like I’m taking advantage of him.
Which is why I’m determined to move out and find my own place as soon as possible so he can have his bedroom back.
We sit down at a nearby bench and eat our food.
I moan at the burst of flavors. “So good,” I say around a mouthful.
“You always make sex noises when you eat tacos, you know that?”
I let out a flustered laugh. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s funny.”
I try to smile, despite how embarrassed I feel. I guess I should feel proud that I can make convincing sex noises…given the fact that I’ve never had sex before.
If by some miracle Blake suddenly was attracted to me, he’d probably be freaked out if he found out that I’m still a virgin. I’d bet anything his dream girl isn’t an awkward virgin who only makes sex noises when she eats tacos.
Not that I even know what Blake likes in the bedroom. He’s never talked about it, and I’m not bold enough to ask him.
I do know that he’s dated a lot of women, so I’d bet anything he’s experienced.
I finish the rest of my tacos. I smile when I see that Blake is nearly done devouring the burritos he ordered.
“I can’t believe you were going to eat ten of those,” I say.
He wipes his mouth with a napkin and pats his stomach, which is somehow still flat after eating all that food.
“I was gonna take the rest home, so I wouldn’t have to cook for the week.”
I laugh. He helps me off the bench, we toss our wrappers in the nearby trash can, then walk back to his house.
By the time we make it back to the house, the party is still in full swing.
“You want another drink?” Blake asks.
I yawn. “I think I’m gonna head to bed. Eating all that food made me sleepy.”
He leans down and hugs me. “Sweet dreams. Promise I’ll be quiet when I come up later tonight.”
“Have fun.”
As I walk up the stairs, a beautiful, tall woman with long, dark hair walks up to him. I can tell by the look on her face that she’s smitten.
A smaller flicker of jealousy lands at the center of my chest. I have the sudden urge to run over to Blake and grab his hand in mine to get her to back off.
But I don’t. I keep walking upstairs and head to his bedroom. Because he’s not mine. He can flirt with whoever he wants.
I wash my face, brush my teeth, and try not to think about the fact that Blake might hook up wth that gorgeous brunette.
I’m still thinking about it even when I crawl into bed. I sigh, annoyed at myself.
I grab my phone and open Instagram to distract myself. I pull up my favorite account—the one that’s sure to distract me in the hottest way.
That Shirtless Guy.
When I see his latest post, I gasp softly. It’s a photo of him wearing a helmet that’s tinted so his face isn’t visible. He’s bare-chested like he always is. A pair of gray sweatpants sits low on his hips.
My eyes go wide as I take in every cut muscle of his torso.
He looks like his body was carved from marble.
He’s ripped to the max. Biceps, shoulders, pecs, abs.
He even has those lines on the sides of his stomach that disappear under the waistband of his sweatpants.
Like some sort of naughty trail leading to something even naughtier in his pants…
The longer I stare at the photo, the hotter my skin gets. And then I read the caption.
Wishing you were on my face instead.
I let out a giddy laugh. Oh, damn. This guy is very dirty, and I like it.
I don’t remember how I first found his account. I think one of my friends must have shared it in their Instagram stories. But the second I found him, I followed him.
Every time I need a distraction, I look at his pictures. Every time I’m in the mood and need…visual stimulation…I pull up his account. All it takes is a couple of minutes with my vibrator or my hand while looking at his photos, and I come. Hard. Every single time.
That tell-tale pulse lands between my legs. For a split second, I contemplate getting myself off, but I stop myself. No way. Not in Blake’s bed. That would be so inappropriate. Especially after how nice he’s been to me.
I put my phone on silent, turn off the bedside lamp, and go to sleep, trying to ignore that ache between my thighs.