25. Dixie
DIXIE
Player is insatiable. While I asked Keri for a truce, I feel like a huge hypocrite because I've been getting busy every night. Whether it's in my room, Player's room, or elsewhere, we've been having sex every day for almost a month now.
But tonight, he asked me to meet him at the stadium entrance, and I don't think it's for a sexy rendezvous. Leaning against the wall, he watches me approach. The walkway is dimly lit by a single streetlamp. It's after nine, and night’s fully arrived. Amazingly, it’s starting to actually feel like fall.
"Hey," I say as I join him.
His gaze lingers on my face before shifting to my lips, which part instinctively in response.
I still don't understand what my body feels in Player's presence or the reactions I have. When he’s around, all bets are off.
One word, one gesture from him, and I transform into this shameless, sexually wanton girl I don't recognize.
Like every time I think about it, a wave of shame and guilt washes over me. I never imagined I could enjoy sex this much.
Unless it's Player you enjoy...
I push away this terrifying thought. Developing feelings for him would be suicidal, I'm painfully aware of that. And yet, I don't hesitate to multiply our intimate moments together. At this rate, I'm going to crash and burn.
"What are you thinking about, Alabama?" he asks.
I blink several times before answering in a tone I hope sounds casual, "Nothing special. Just wondering why you asked me to come here."
He pushes off from the wall to approach me, and I tilt my head up to look at him. A light stubble shadows his jaw, and a shiver runs through me as I imagine it rubbing against the sensitive skin between my thighs. I swallow hard.
Oblivious to the turn my thoughts have taken, Player grabs my waist to pull me against him, and the next moment, his lips claim mine. I love the way he kisses me, both conquering and possessive. No one has ever made me feel this way.
His hands slip under my jacket, sliding down to my backside, which he firmly grasps. I moan softly, and when he pulls away, I feel a familiar heat burning in my belly.
"Come on," he says, taking my hand.
I follow him as he opens a gate leading into the stadium grounds.
I guess his intentions are far from innocent.
In fact, we have sex every time we see each other.
We climb up the bleachers to the top of the student section, and when Player finally stops, I notice a blanket he's laid out on the aluminum seating.
I furrow my brow as I examine his setup.
"You want to do it here?" I ask.
He tilts his head to the side while looking at me. "Why not?"
I shrug. After all the places we've done it, this one seems almost too "intimate." For reasons I can't quite explain, I'm not really in the mood tonight. Even though I feel that familiar desire, I feel somehow disconnected.
Player doesn't wait for my response before sitting down on the ground.
I can read the impatience in his eyes, and I let out a small sigh as I sit down next to him.
His eyes meet mine, and I expect him to kiss me or touch me, but he surprises me by pointing his index finger toward the sky. "We're here for that."
I lean back against the railing, and see that the starry sky is particularly brilliant tonight.
"Lie down," he invites me, doing so himself.
Fascinated by the spectacle the clear sky offers us, I comply.
"Do you know the constellations?" I ask him.
Player gives a little chuckle. "Not at all!"
My confusion grows with each passing second. This kind of date isn't like him.
"There's supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, and I thought it might be nice to watch it together," he explains. "But if you'd rather go back..."
I turn my head toward him and see his profile outlined against the white wall that marks the end of the bleachers.
I resist the urge to trace the contours of his face with my fingertip.
This man never ceases to surprise me. One moment, he's an insatiable and inventive lover, and the next, he's inviting me to watch a meteor shower.
"Be careful, I might start thinking there's a romantic side hidden deep inside you," I tease him.
He turns his head in my direction, and his gaze locks with mine. I think I forget to breathe. That's the Player effect, he can stop me in my tracks with either anger or desire.
He studies me for a long moment before asking, "Is that what you'd like?"
I furrow my brow, surprised by the turn this evening is taking.
I was expecting intense physical sensations, but certainly not for my heart to race like this.
Somehow, I feel like he's asking me a trick question.
If I answered that I wanted a romantic relationship, I'm sure I'd lose him immediately.
What we have is just for sex—he's been very clear about that.
"Don't worry, I'm not expecting you to ask me to the winter formal or anything like that," I dodge.
I shift my attention back to the stars so he can't read the bitterness on my face.
Whatever tale I like to tell myself, I can't blind myself to the truth.
Player means more to me than I'd care to admit, and what looms on the horizon doesn't please me at all.
What will happen when my feelings have grown too much to contain?
My throat tightens and I struggle to swallow. My eyes sting. I take a deep breath to push back my dark thoughts. Player's hand finds mine, our fingers intertwining as we gaze at the sky.
I decide to ask him a question to change the subject. "What's it like being the center of attention when you play?"
My eyes remain fixed on the stars twinkling softly thousands of light-years above us. The silence stretches between us, long enough that I think Player won't answer, but he surprises me by saying:
"Actually, I don't have time to think about it. When I enter the game, all I focus on is the outcome of the play. Each one rolls into the next, into the next. I visualize the victory, and only that."
"We attract what we radiate," I murmur.
"I don't believe in luck or chance," he replies. "Even less in the law of attraction or all that new age personal development bullshit."
I turn my eyes from the stars to look at this intense and unfathomable man. Despite sharing embraces, I don't know him. My throat tightens at this thought. I wish so much that he would open up to me.
Maybe that's what he's doing right now.
My heart beats a little faster. What if despite what he says, this date is romantic ?
"In sports, it's training that pays off, Dixie. Hard work, that's the only thing that matters."
"Have you always been passionate about football?"
He keeps his eyes fixed on the starry sky, but I don't miss his grimace, "I’ve never been passionate about football."
"What? But..."
"I do what my father expects of me, that's all," he cuts me off with a bitter tone. His fingers have tightened around mine, squeezing harder. "He wants me to play, so that's what I do."
He falls silent and his jaw tightens. Player isn't naturally expressive when it comes to emotions. He's capable of spouting plenty of obscenities, yes, but I've never heard him talk about his past.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know," I stammer.
This time, he turns his attention to me.
For a moment, he seems distant, then his gaze softens slightly.
"We think we know people and their motivations, but in reality, do they even know themselves what drives them?
Whether we try to please our parents or react to our own fears, what difference does it make? "
"Did you choose OMU to please your father?" I ask, curious. In reality, I don't know him well enough to understand what motivates him, and I realize I want to know more.
"No," he answers sharply. He lets out an annoyed sigh, and I think I've touched on a sensitive subject. "He forced me to attend this fucking college," he finally states. "If it had been up to me, I would have gone far away from here."
Player has never been a diligent student, often sitting in class simply because I know that if he skipped, he could lose his football eligibility.
"What would you have done if you'd had the choice?" I ask him.
He keeps his eyes fixed on the sky, and I have the impression he hasn't heard me, but he eventually says :
"I'd probably be in South America, surfing. Maybe Australia or Hawaii. I love the feeling of freedom I get on my board when I'm alone facing the ocean. It's only there that I feel truly free to be myself."
The idea that he might not live on campus anymore turns my stomach, but I pull myself together. Player does what he wants, even if that includes leaving OMU.
I don't know what to say, so I keep quiet. This part of him is foreign to me, but I can understand his frustration at having to take courses that don't interest him. Player turns to me, and with his fingertips, he pushes back a strand of my hair that was brushing against my cheek.
The familiar sensual tension starts crackling between us again, at least that's how it feels.
He moves closer to me before placing a kiss on my lips.
It's the first time he's kissed me tenderly, I could almost believe I matter to him.
But I'm not that naive. I know very well that I'm nothing more than amusement.
I don't know if he really intended to show me the stars or if he wanted to fulfill a fantasy by fucking in the stadium bleachers, but Player's kiss intensifies.
His hands unbutton my coat to better slip under my shirt.
I shiver without knowing if it's because of his caresses or the effect of the autumn cold that has settled over the campus.
Player's intentions become perfectly clear the moment he slides his hand into my panties. I respond to his kisses without any restraint, letting desire engulf me from head to toe, forgetting any distracting thoughts and especially the prospect that he might leave OMU… and me.
Player has a gift for disconnecting me from reality by taking me into this alternative reality where there are only the two of us and our desire for each other. The tension builds in my body and I tense when his fingers find their way inside me.
I moan and Player growls in response when I open his fly to grasp his erection. His caresses become stronger, even more possessive, as if he's demanding my orgasm.
His fingers slide into me before coming out to circle around my clitoris. Player kisses me savagely while my movements match the same rhythm he sets on my intimacy.
My eyelids open the moment a burning, devastating wave spreads rapidly through my body. Strands of light streak across the sky accompanying the intense orgasm he's giving me. Shooting stars are joining the party.
Player drinks in my pleasure, his thrusts guiding my caresses until they lead him to explosion too.
He falls back beside me, his face buried in my neck.
Our rapid breathing gradually calms down.
With his fingertips, Player traces small circles on the skin of my stomach.
Suddenly, a wave overwhelms me, blooming in my chest before spreading throughout my entire body.
Some people talk about butterflies taking flight, I have the sensation of a warm, luminous current carrying me far away before bringing me back to my body. All this in a fraction of a second.
Player props himself up on one elbow and his gaze searches mine. I place my hand against his cheek, and he doesn't pull away from my tender gesture.
"The show is up there, you know?" I say in a low voice.
His expression is so serious that I suddenly fear he's about to tell me everything is over between us. My heart skips a beat before starting a frantic race.
"You're wrong, Dixie."
He doesn't say more, and I don't ask him to explain his thoughts for fear of ruining this moment. Intuitively, I sense that this moment is precious. Probably because it's the first of its kind between us.
A part of me begins to fear it might also be the last.