14. Knight
Chapter Fourteen
KNIGHT
No matter how many intensive drills Dillon, Derek and I run with my dad, no matter how many weird protein shakes I make with my sister, no matter how many delicate card structures whoever’s around builds after dinner, I’m going to remember this summer mostly in terms of what house I was in and which piece of staged furniture I was clinging to while Sullivan got himself off in my ass.
He favors meeting at the abandoned house by the lake, but I got a splinter while I was bent over the kitchen counter with my hand braced on one of the upper cabinets.
I didn’t complain about it at the time—barely noticed it, but my mom had to dig it out of my palm the following day when the area had gotten red, puffy, and sore.
I didn’t know what would happen with our hookups after I aced his algebra class, but the very next day, I get a text from him telling me I can meet him at the lake house.
I give him the address for a ridiculously big mansion on a private stretch of beach, and he agrees to meet there instead, even after I warn him it’s completely unfurnished.
Sullivan
sounds fun?
Me
i have an air mattress and fold out chairs. it can be like camping
Sullivan
what are the acoustics like?
Me
you’ll have to let me know once you test them out. big backyard though. we can toss a ball around
Sullivan
ur hilarious. are you gonna bring everything? sheets? pillows?
Me
u planning to spend the night?
I have to wait a few minutes for a response to that.
Sullivan
what made that sound like I was asking for me??
Sullivan has a way of leaving after he fucks me that goes down like good cough syrup. Like in the way that I’d rather not have to take cough syrup, but if I do, at least this one tastes okay.
Me
ur sweet to worry
Sullivan
fuck you winters
The way I really like him is almost as well-kept of a secret as how gay I am.
There are a few times I know he’s caught me looking at him after we’re both sweaty and post-orgasmic where it’s probably written all the way across my face, but in general, I play the horny slut who knows the clock is ticking on this summer and needs as much dick in the ass as possible before it’s over, and he plays the dude who humors me.
“So listen,” he says, once we’ve brought everything inside from both our cars—his instruments, my overnight supplies.
We’re in the empty living room with its vaulted ceiling and gigantic fireplace. The view of the lake is perfection.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I have to leave this weekend. I won’t be back before school.”
A weird pit forms in my stomach. “Oh. Did something come up?”
“Not exactly. I thought I might have another week or so, but it turns out…” He trails off, looking down at my bags.
“New move-in date, or…?”
He shakes his head.
Do I want him to elaborate?
This is a question I’ve been asking myself a lot.
How much do I really want to know about Sullivan Scott?
What I already know about him has me in knots.
I like him so much, it’s ridiculous. Stupid.
Like, it’s honestly good he doesn’t seem to be all that into me because if I thought he was, I’m not sure how I’d cope with not being able to be with him in our real life.
I guess I’m lucky he’s so emotionally unavailable, because if he were to show me any real affection, I might have to take a good look at what I want for my future.
No, I prefer it stays like this. Less to worry about.
“Sorry to spring it on you this way,” he says.
“No, it’s all right. I only have two weeks before training starts anyway, so it’s cool. And you don’t have to tell me what’s up, but if you wanted to talk about it…”
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Yeah, no. I don’t think so.”
“Fine, then help me blow this mattress up.”
“Or we could check out the house,” he says.
“Yeah. Sure.”
On our way upstairs, with the way he’s slumped and dragging his feet, I realize I won’t be able to not at least ask about it. “Does this have something to do with Chelsea?”
He groans. “No.”
“Your dad?” I press.
“Dude.” He sighs, stopping on the first landing and turning toward me. “It’s kinda like—I have another relative I have to visit before I go back to school. Does that help?”
“Kind of like a relative? Is that new slang or something?”
“It’s the person who pays for my school. Pays for everything.”
“Like an uncle?” I ask.
“Yeah. He’s my uncle.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you just say that? My uncle’s been in town for a week. You know, despite all our supposed differences, we all have annoying families that expect shit from us. I get it.”
“Yeah, all right.” He starts up the stairs again.
I scowl. “You’re not a fan of the guy?”
“Not really.”
“You have to stay with him all month?”
“Yeah.”
“Where does he live?”
“Outside Detroit.”
“We’ll be driving through Detroit in a couple weeks, on the way back to school. If you want—”
“No. You can’t visit. That would be a mess.”
“I mean, the twins would be with me. We could just hang out.”
“No,” he says again.
I back off. “All right.”
Upstairs, we find what must be the main bedroom. It’s enormous with a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall view of the lake. “Damn,” Sullivan says. “Is this the kind of place you’ll be able to have? Once you’re a big football star?”
“It better be,” I say grimly. “Minus the hot guy who appreciates the view, I guess.”
“You realize you said that out loud.”
I sigh. “Yeah.”
“Are you gonna miss me?” he asks.
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, I’ll miss you, too. If it makes you feel any better.”
It does, but I definitely don’t want him to elaborate on that.
“We should hook up in the fall,” he adds out of nowhere.
“Really? Like—hook up?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “If you want.”
“But you just made it sound like you’d want to. I was clarifying what you meant by it.”
He opens a set of French doors and steps onto the terrace. I follow him over to the rail where he leans on his elbows and looks out at the view. I do the same, but I’m looking at him.
Maybe it’s because summer’s really over for us, or he has a lot on his mind, but it only takes a second for him to keep talking.
“Chelsea’s my best friend, but the more we’ve been talking this summer, I’m realizing she’s pretty fucked up.
I mean—she doesn’t need to be institutionalized or anything, but we have some unusual things in common.
I don’t want to tell all her business, but after I told her about what you and I have been doing—not naming any names, don’t worry, she sort of jumped on this idea of a more open relationship or whatever. ”
I’m seriously confused. “Okay… But like…why call it a relationship at all if you’re both gonna be fucking other people?”
“I mean, there’s no need to break up officially.”
“Dude, I don’t get it.”
“I mean, there’s like the people you feel comfortable with—like want to be in a relationship with, and then there’s the people you want to fuck, right?”
“While you’re also fucking the one you’re in a relationship with?” I ask, not understanding at all.
“She had this opportunity come up. It was a little too good for her to refuse.”
“What kind of opportunity?”
Sullivan closes his eyes for a moment like I’m annoying the shit out of him. “That’s her business.”
“But it involves fucking other people?”
“I’ve said too much. I don’t want you to treat her like there’s something wrong with her if you ever meet her. It’s not like that.”
“I never said… Look, I’m just asking questions.” Because fuck, I have so many.
“I trust her,” he says.
“She trusts you, too, I guess.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I mean…good for you?”
“It just means if you want to hook up, we can.”
Some of these tangents he takes me on—not always a good time. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” That pit in my stomach is crawling up my esophagus, and I might be sick. It’s pure jealousy. I recognize that at least. It’s the one feeling I’m intimately familiar with and have no problem naming.
“I trust you, too, if that helps,” he says.
I feel him looking at me, but I’m not sure I can return the favor.
He’s gonna look gorgeous in this light. He always does.
It’s gonna make me want to kiss him. Decode him.
Try to make him make sense. It turns out sex and intimacy aren’t even in the same ballpark.
It was naive of me to ever equate the two.
I mean, I’m not stupid. I get that a one night stand is different than having a boyfriend, but I never pictured myself in the gray area I’ve wound up in with Sullivan.
Where we fuck regularly but don’t have a relationship outside of that.
Unless this counts. “Don’t worry about me,” I say. “Trust whoever you want. Or don’t. I’m good.”
“You’re not really planning to be celibate when you go back to school, are you?”
“I need to focus. Football is my priority. It’s my first year starting, and I can’t fuck up. Sneaking around trying to find someone discreet is basically the opposite of focusing.”
“Hence—you have my number.”
“You seem like you’ve got plenty going on.”
In my periphery I notice the drop of defeat in his shoulders. “Knight...come on.”
I shake off his words. This conversation. “I brought tequila. Let’s drink and see what all that air mattress can take. If this is it, let’s make it good.”
“Yeah,” Sullivan says after a minute. “Okay.”
I fucking love tequila. Everything feels good, and anything is possible.
Even crazy shit like Sullivan asking me to fuck him.
“You realize I’d have to touch you to do that.”
“Bring it, QB. Anything else you want to do to me while you have an all access pass?” He’s clearly feeling the tequila, too.