16. Calvin
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
calvin
“Good morning!” Jonah’s voice is loud and travels as he walks up to me at my locker, leaning against someone else’s, his backpack slung over his shoulder. I don’t know what the hell he’s doing, but I just grab my books for first period and ignore him.
I can do this.
I did it all yesterday, even when he nearly knocked the shit out of Adler. Fuck, what if he’d have actually hit him? It could cost him his position on the team. Or if it didn’t, it could’ve cost Micah his job.
Doesn’t he realize by now I’m not worth it?
Why does he keep coming back?
I thought about going the same route with him as I did with Austin. But one, I could never stomach it again. Hurting someone like that? Betraying their trust? There’s no way in hell I’d do that again.
And two, I know without a doubt Jonah wouldn’t take it. He’d push me right back. He’d fight.
And there’s no way I’m going to hurt him.
But he has to leave me alone.
“You should come over after practice. I think Jenna’s making pot roast, which is really good,” he goes on, and I turn to him, dumbfounded. “Though last night, I bet you’d have really loved. She made breakfast for dinner. You ever have that?”
He looks at me like he’s waiting on me to actually answer him. I don’t. I just stare blankly in confusion.
“Pancakes. Waffles. Bacon. Sausage. Eggs. Three different types of eggs. I mean, the woman is crazy but awesome. Because it was good. I’m still full.”
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask him in awe because what the fuck?
“Inviting you to dinner. Maybe we can play Fortnite.”
I stare at him, my mouth agape. He can’t be real. I’m starting to think something is really wrong with him. Anyone else would have been thrilled to get rid of me—especially after what I told him about Austin. But he’s making small talk about breakfast for dinner and inviting me over to his house.
“No,” I say simply.
“Why not?” He’s so casual.
“Did you bump your head or something?” I keep my voice low, looking around for anyone who’s paying too much attention, then look back at him.
“Did you forget what happened at the lake?” My cheeks heat, just thinking about it.
About my body pressed against his. About tasting his lips and drinking down his soft whimpers.
“Something happened?” he asks, wide-eyed and innocent, but I see the mirth dancing in his eyes. It’s playful. Not cruel. I don’t get him.
“No.” I clear my throat and stand up straight, putting more distance between us. “Nothing happened, and I’m not coming over to your house. Leave me alone,” I say, though it hurts like hell to say it.
It hurts even more to walk away from him, but I manage to do it and avoid him for most of the rest of the day. Practice, though, makes it unavoidable, it seems.
And he takes full advantage.
Every play we run, he’s talking to me. Telling me I’m doing a great job and that we’ve totally got this on game day. Pats me on the shoulder and raising his hand for high fives—which I don’t reciprocate.
By the end of practice, I’m beat, mostly from trying to run away from his ass—which is really not what a left tackle is supposed to do with his quarterback. What the hell is he thinking?
After my extremely quick shower, I get dressed and haul ass for the parking lot, but he must have known that was my plan because he rushed through his own shower and getting dressed too—on my heels the whole way.
When we reach our trucks, I stop, scan the parking lot and see no one near before walking right up to him. We’re standing toe-to-toe, and I’m breathing hard. “What are you doing?”
“Showing you it doesn’t have to be weird. That we can still hang out. You still need a friend, right?” He puts his hand on his chest. “I’m that friend.”
“I don’t need friends,” I say, leaning in to get into his face, which backfires because I can see his plump lips, my own tingling at the reminder of just how good those lips feel against my own.
“Then I do.”
I scoff and step back. “No. You don’t.”
His grin is crooked, and he’s as confident as ever as he looks at me, his head cocked to the side. “Just come over. Jenna’s pot roast really is pretty good.”
I know I’m supposed to say no. I should continue to push him away, but the truth is it’s nice to have a friend again. I hate myself for it just a little bit, but I give a subtle nod, and he knows he’s getting his way.
Does he ever not with me?
I sigh heavily and walk over to my truck, pulling open the door and climbing in before driving to his house.
Jenna and the girls greet us happily before Jonah tugs me to his bedroom to play Fortnite—which we do for over an hour before Jenna knocks on the door and tells us it’s dinnertime.
It’s loud and chaotic with the girls, but I can’t help watching how loving Jenna is with them. She dotes on them and asks them about their day. She asks Jonah, Micah, and me too. I answer with a rough, “It was fine,” but she doesn’t seem irritated by my limited response.
“Well, maybe tomorrow will be better than fine.” She says it with a bright smile and then looks over at Jonah and winks.
He grins. “Yeah, maybe tomorrow will be okay.”
“Or average,” Micah says, and I know they’re all teasing me, but it’s in such a weird, oddly kind way. Like I’m in on the joke. I don’t really know how to explain it, but I feel more relaxed than I have in a long time.
Which makes no sense.
Just two days ago, I did something I promised I would never do in this town again. I kissed a guy. And instead of pushing him away or threatening him, I’m here, eating delicious pot roast with his family. It makes no sense at all.
But I don’t want to change it either. No matter how detrimental it could be. I’d say my life at school couldn’t really get any worse, but I know better than to say that. It can always get worse.
After dinner, we go back to Jonah’s room, where he makes sure to close the door. “See? Really good pot roast,” he says as he takes a seat on his bed. I take the safest seat I can—the desk chair by his bed, but he grabs the arm and pulls me over to him. “Not bad, right?”
“The dinner? Yeah, it wasn’t bad.”
“I mean hanging out with me.” He’s smiling. Totally calm and in control, but I’m freaking out.
I can’t sit this close to him. I can’t breathe him in and look at his gorgeous face. It’s too tempting. “It’s not so bad,” I say, licking my dry lips and forcing myself to look away from him.
I’m just staring at the wall like an idiot when he speaks again. “Calvin,” he says quietly, but it’s not until I feel his fingers gently brush over my hand resting on my thigh that I actually look at him. “Nothing happened.”
Okay, so he’s onboard with forgetting about the lake. That’s good. That’s really good. Good. Good. Good. Okay, stop thinking the word good. But it is good because we can do this. We can just hang out and not kiss.
“Well, something did happen.” He grins playfully, and shit, my entire body locks up with nerves. “But I mean that happened, and then nothing bad happened.”
“That . . .” I say dumbly.
“Kiss,” he says, and goddammit, I should’ve known he wasn’t just going to let it go. He can’t just let it have happened and then totally ignore it. Jonah isn’t built like that. He faces everything. He’s fearless.
I instinctively look at the closed door, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest. I hate the fear inside me.
His hand now clasps mine, his fingers sliding between mine as he squeezes and holds my hand like I’m a scared little child.
Which is exactly how I’m acting right now. I turn my head back toward him.
“No one knows what happened. That we kissed.” His voice isn’t a whisper, but it’s quiet. I know no one is listening, but it still sounds so loud to me. Thrumming in my ears.
“We can’t do it again,” I say, trying to be firm, but it comes out shaky and unsure. Because I want to. He knows it too.
“Why not?” he asks. “It doesn’t change anything.”
“It changes everything. I don’t do this.”
“I know,” he says, squeezing my hand again in reassurance.
“I know last time, it was horrible for you. That your so-called friends turned on you and bully you relentlessly. But this isn’t that.
You didn’t shove me into any lockers today.
You didn’t threaten me. I’m not going to confront you in front of them.
No one is going to know anything about your personal business. ”
My cheeks heat at the thought. I can’t stand the fact that people talk about me at school. That they gossip about me kissing another guy. Call me names. I don’t want to care, but I do. I worry every day it’ll get back to my family, but it hasn’t.
“I would never hurt you,” I say because from all that, I focus on the fact that he thought I might push him around.
“I know,” he says effortlessly, like he was never worried. “You aren’t the same person you were last year. You learned from your mistakes.”
“Yeah, and I haven’t kissed another guy.
” I sound frantic. Probably because that’s how I feel.
Jonah does this to me. He makes me spin out and shakes up my whole world.
I’d planned to just keep my head down and get through this year, but then here comes Jonah.
This force of nature who won’t allow me to just float through.
He makes me face things like he does, and I’m not sure if I like it or not. But still, I find myself moving forward, my face in his face. I take a deep breath—breathing in his intoxicating scent and look at his lips.
He stares at me, totally still. Letting me make the move. I push away and stand up, noting the disappointment written all over his face but also knowing he won’t pressure me to do anything I’m not ready for. Maybe that’s why I move forward with what I was planning to do.
I walk over to his bedroom door and turn the lock, clicking it into place before walking back over to him. His eyes are wide with beautiful surprise, a faint smile on his lips before I lean down and press mine against his mouth.
I kiss him hard, my body covering his as he pulls me onto his lap. I’m a big guy, but I don’t really feel like it as he holds onto me, kissing the hell out of me while his hands slide down my back.
He doesn’t urge me to do anything but kiss. His tongue meets mine, our mouths intertwined. My cock is so hard, I think I might actually pass out from all the blood rushing to my groin. I feel lightheaded and free.
The nerves are still there. I’m conscious of the fact that we’re in Coach’s house, but I’m also able to get lost in Jonah. In the sweet way his fingers trail under my shirt and over my back.
I can feel his hard dick against mine, and I thrust against it, making us both groan softly as he responds, pushing up against me and dragging his cock against mine.
“We don’t have to do anything more than kiss,” he says softly, pulling away just enough to look down at our laps. He put on joggers after his shower, and I’m wearing thin shorts. Our hard cocks are both jutting out like they’re trying to join, and God, I want that.
“What if I want to?” I ask, my voice gravelly.
He looks happily surprised by that, but I can also tell he’s holding back, waiting for me to push him away. I hate that, but it’s valid. I could still run away. This is all foreign to me. “You can do anything you want with me. I’m all yours.”
My throat nearly closes up at his statement, my heart racing because he can’t say things like that to me. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“Who says I can’t?” He says it so easily. How does he do that?
“You know this is temporary, right? I’m never coming out. I can’t. After school is over, I’m going to work with my family. I’m never getting out of this hellhole.”
He reaches up and places his hand on my cheek, holding my eye contact. “You can do whatever you want to. With me. With your future. It’s not set in stone.”
I start to shake my head, but he stops me by placing his lips against mine and kissing me hard.
I get lost in it again, thrusting against him.
My balls draw up tight to my body, screaming for release.
I want this. I want to come with him—not just another person, for the first time in my life—but Jonah.
Sweet, wide-eyed, happy, confident, beautiful Jonah.
I only feel him hesitate for a second before his hands go to the waist of my shorts, pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes, asking for my permission. I give him a slight nod, even though I’m terrified and shaking. I want this. Badly.
Not because I feel pressured or like I have to. But because I want it.
I want to make him feel good. I want to know what it’s like to send him over the edge. He pulls my shorts down just enough to free my achingly hard shaft, but he doesn’t look down. He doesn’t pull his eyes away from mine.
I know he’s freeing his own cock, and I want to look, but I can’t look away from his face. His lips are parted and shiny with my spit. He brings one hand to his mouth, and I watch as he licks his palm, letting it get soaking wet with his saliva, a whimper escaping my throat.
He brings his hand between us, and as he wraps it around both of us, he leans in and kisses me hard. It’s all so much, kissing him as our shafts slide against each other, rutting against each other.
My balls are tight and heavy, wanting release. I’m afraid for it to be over. I never want it to end, but tingles race up my spine as I thrust against his hard, hot flesh. He comes right before I do, his sticky release splashing against the head of my dick, sending me over the edge.
I cry out into his mouth and slide through the sticky cum, his and mine, until I can barely move.
He kisses my lips and my face, grasping the sides of my head and reassuring me that it’s okay. “That was so fucking good,” he gasps against my mouth.
I can only nod as I do my best to kiss him too. The realization of what we just did coming to me, but I don’t run away. “We should clean up,” I say, but I don’t move off him.
He kisses the corner of my mouth and my cheek, then my nose, still grasping my face. “We will.” He pulls back to look me in the eyes. “Are you freaking out?”
“I should be,” I say honestly. “But I’ve never come that hard in my life.”
He grins. “Stick around. I have more things we can try.”
I should end it right here, tell him we can’t do that again. Tell him that it was a one-time thing and we’re only friends. But something else entirely comes out of my mouth. “Can’t wait.”
I realize how true that is when my dick twitches between us, trying to get ready for another round. Not. Tonight.
We need to clean up, and I need to get home, but . . .
Soon.