Blind Side: A Fake Dating Sports Romance (Red Zone Rivals)

We were the only ones at the university observatory.

Because of course we were — it was Saturday night and our team had just won a football game against one of our rivals. Everyone else was out partying, whether at The Pit or a bar off campus.

Everyone, that was, except for me and Giana.

She hadn’t said a word on the walk over, our steps in time on the quiet sidewalk. We could hear students celebrating all across campus, but it became more and more distant as we got to the outside perimeter, and faded altogether when the off-white dome of the observatory first came into view.

A pimple-faced kid chewing bubble gum too loudly let us in, bored and barely looking up from the game he was playing on his phone.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he’d said after running over the rules for the telescopes — and the look he gave us as he left us alone told me that we had better not need anything, because he wasn’t in the helping mood.

Then, it was just us.

Giana dumped her bag in the corner of the oval-shaped room, eyes bright beneath the reflective lenses of her glasses as she smiled up at the open sky above us. Most of it was covered by the top of the observatory dome, but there was a wide-open gap where the telescope pointed through. When she bent to take her first look through the viewfinder, she gasped, smile widening.

“You have to see this,” she breathed, pulling away only to grab my wrist and tug me over to the machine.

There were three different telescopes, but she’d picked the largest one, and when I bent to look in for myself, I understood why.

The sky above Boston typically only gave way to a few stars and maybe a planet or two, the city lights too bright to see much else. But through this lens, the stars came to life, a whole galaxy of them sparkling in the black. But it wasn’t just black — you could even see the gasses of pink and blue swirling among the darkness.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Giana asked behind me.

I nodded, pulling away so she could look in again. She carefully adjusted some settings and the area of focus, smiling like a kid in a candy store when she found what she was looking for.

“Saturn,” she breathed, and then she tugged me down to look with her.

And I couldn’t hide my surprise when I did.

“Whoa,” I said, in awe at how clear it was, how we could see the rings spread out around the planet as if it were just a football field away.

“Perfect visibility for it tonight,” Giana said. “We should be able to find Mars and Jupiter, too.”

I shook my head, pulling back to let her play with the settings again. As she did, I watched her, completely awestruck by how she lit up when she had education at her fingertips. She was antsy the way a drug fiend might be before a hit — bouncing a little on her toes, smiling so wide it made my cheeks hurt.

“Saturn is mostly hydrogen,” she said as she squinted through the lens and slowly moved the scope with the controls. “It also has one-hundred-and-fifty moons. Can you believe that? That planet is in the same solar system as ours and it’s mostly gas and moons.” She shook her head. “Wild.”

The corner of my mouth crept up watching her in her element. Nothing amped her up the way discovering something new did, and I marveled at how curious she was, at how she was like an endless encyclopedia of fun facts, not because she’d studied and committed anything to memory, but because she simply loved learning that much.

But as fast as the smile had bloomed, it died again, my chest aching with thoughts of my mom suffering on the other side of the country.

“Found it!” Giana said, and she shoved me toward the scope. “Mars.”

I peered through, commenting on what looked like it could be an ice cap before Giana launched into an essay on the powerful snowstorms on Mars. I listened with a distant kind of awareness, leaning against the back wall of the dome and watching her work with the scope.

And I tried to make it work.

I wanted to be distracted by her, by science, by the stars and the universe. But while it should have reminded me how small my problems were, it somehow worked to do the opposite, and I found myself wondering why I’d moved so far away from my mom in the first place.

Maybe it was my fault she was searching so desperately for someone to love and take care of her, because I had been that person, and now I was gone.

My stomach twisted at the thought, even as another one chased right behind it, reminding me that she’d always been looking for a partner — ever since Dad left.

But still, I could have been there, I could have been doing more.

It was selfish of me to chase my dreams of playing in the NFL when I could have been home with her. I could have a full-time job by now, one with benefits and a decent salary. I could be taking care of her in every way she needs. At the very least, I could have gone to school somewhere close, in California, where she was just a quick drive away.

Instead, I was focused on myself.

All the thoughts and guilt warred inside me, and Giana must have seen, because her brows folded together when she looked over her shoulder at me perched against the wall.

“Come on,” she said, gathering her things. “Let’s go up to the deck.”

I followed her quietly up the stairs, and we were met with a soft, cool breeze when we reached the top of the observation deck. Giana tucked her cardigan around her more for warmth, and I slipped my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie.

There were a few small telescopes along the railing of the dome, but Giana didn’t go for any of them. Instead, she tossed her bag down to the side and slid down the outside of the dome to sit on the deck, patting the spot next to her for me to do the same.

“I hate that you’re this sad on your birthday,” she confessed when I sat next to her, my knees spread, elbows balanced on them, and hands clasped in-between.

I didn’t respond.

“Talk to me,” she pleaded, angling herself toward me. “Tell me what happened.”

I closed my eyes, shaking my head before I opened them again and stared at my sneakers. “Can’t,” I managed.

“Why not?”

Because it’s hard to explain. Because I’m embarrassed. Because I’m ashamed. Because I’m terrified there’s nothing I can do. Because I hate that it’s my responsibility and feel like an asshole for feeling that way.

All those responses and more rushed through my mind, but I just shook my head again, unable to say a single one of them.

Giana let out a long exhale, then nodded, as if she’d heard what I couldn’t dare to say. “Okay,” she said. “Then use me.”

I frowned, especially when she crawled over to sit between my legs. She sat on her knees in front of me, forcing me to open my stance, to unclasp my hands and let her in. She quite literally forced her way in until I had no choice but to look at her.

I was devastated when I did.

It wasn’t her curly hair, a bit frizzy from the game and a long day before that. It wasn’t the freckles on her cheeks, or the soft moonlight reflected in her aqua eyes. It wasn’t even her brick-red-and-gold plaid skirt, the modest black blouse she’d paired with it, or the knee-high black stockings that drove me mad anytime she wore them.

It was how she looked at me.

It was how she watched me with so much care and reverence that I was fucking speechless, unable to move, unable to do anything but watch her in return.

“Use me to take your mind off whatever it is that’s hurting you, to escape.” She swallowed. “Give me another lesson.”

I let out a shaky breath through my nose, ready to argue that now wasn’t the time, but her lips silenced me before I could. She leaned forward, kissing me slowly and confidently, her hands framing my face as mine came to her waist like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I need you. Show me what’s next,” she breathed against my mouth, her lips hovering there as she added, “And this time, I want you to go first.”

I frowned when she kissed me again, squeezing her hips a little as I pulled back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that last time you were left without a release,” she clarified, and then with all the confidence of a woman who knew everything instead of the shyness of a girl asking me to show her, she climbed into my lap, the heat of her against my abdomen as she settled into place. “Tonight, I want to make you feel good first. I want…” She swallowed, like she was ashamed, but then held her chin a bit higher and looked me right in the eyes. “I want you to show me how to taste you.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

I closed my eyes on a dragon exhale to keep from saying that out loud, and I felt the ravenous animal inside me roaring to life. Giana pressed into me, kissing me before I could overthink it, before I could think of any argument to stop her.

“Please,” she begged, rolling her hips against me, and I hissed at the contact, at how hard I already was for her.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t put into words how much hearing that she needed me was exactly what I needed. So, I answered her with a kiss of my own, cradling the back of her neck and holding her to me as I opened my mouth and cued her to do the same. I swept my tongue inside, cherishing the soft whimper of a moan that slipped from Giana when I did. Her hands twisted in my hair until one of them snaked down between us, and she ran her palm along my length straining against my sweatpants.

“Fuck,” I cursed, rolling into the touch. I managed to pause, to open my eyes and look at how tentative she was watching me. “Are you sure?”

“Show me.”

She answered so quickly, so definitively that my cock twitched under her palm, and she wet her lips, eyes falling down to look at my bulge as she gripped it a little firmer.

Carefully, I hoisted her off my lap, leaving her there on her knees as I stood. I towered over her, nose flaring at the sight of her looking up at me as I went to undo the tie of my sweatpants. As if she’d missed some sort of cue, she pushed up onto her shins, hands reaching out to finish the job.

“Let me.”

I paused, internally groaning from just those two words alone. I clenched my jaw so hard it ached as I watched her tenderly loosen the strings, and then she tucked her slender fingertips in the band, tugging them down my hips.

She hesitated when they were a little hard to get off, looking up at me like she was second-guessing. And like a lightbulb in the dark, I remembered her books.

I remembered every scene she highlighted, and I knew without asking what she needed from me.

“Show me you want it,” I demanded, voice low and firm.

Her lips parted, chest heaving as she kept her eyes on me and tugged my sweatpants with more force. This time, they slid over my ass and down to my knees. Without hesitation, she grabbed my briefs and did the same with them, freeing my erection.

The air was too cold, and as if she sensed it, her warm hand wrapped around me as soon as my briefs were at my knees. I hissed at the contact, and she looked up at me with worried eyes.

Then, without a word of guidance from me, she pulled her hand away from me, ran her tongue over her palm and along each of her fingers, and then touched me with the wetness.

“Like this, right?” she asked as my eyes rolled back, knees buckling a bit at how it felt to have her warm, wet fist wrap around me.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Now, tease me. Get me worked up.”

She frowned. “How?”

“Do what feels natural, and listen to how I react.” I licked my lips. “You love to study so much, Kitten… study me.”

Her eyes were hot with desire, and she ran her thumb over the precum on my tip, swirling it in a small circle. I bit my lip as she rolled her hand down my shaft next, all the way to the base before she loosened her hand enough to bring it to my crown and back down again.

“Just like that,” I praised, and like I knew she would, Giana beamed.

Her tentativeness faded, and with more confidence, she rolled her hand over me again, up and down, pressure firm in the right places.

I flexed into her touch. “I love seeing you like this,” I husked. “On your knees.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and she swallowed, squirming a bit as she continued to work me with her hand.

“It turns you on, too, doesn’t it?” I asked.

She blinked up at me. “Y-yes.”

The confession made my lips curl. “Touch yourself,” I commanded. “Show me how wet you are.”

Giana pinned her bottom lip with her teeth, one hand still slowly working me as the other dipped between her thighs. She spread her knees wider to allow better access, and I knew the moment she slipped her fingers under her panties because her breath caught, lips opening.

“Let me see.”

Slowly, she withdrew her hand, eyes widening when she saw her glossy fingertips before she offered them up to me.

“Good girl.”

She shuddered, grip tightening over my shaft so I knew my words affected her just how I wanted them to. I smiled, stepping closer, and her back hit the dome so that she had no choice but to come face to face with where she gripped me.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Hesitating, she loosened her grip on me and did as I asked. And when those eyes crawled back up to mine, I couldn’t help but curse out loud at the sight of her — knees still spread, mouth open, tongue out, chest heaving as she waited for my next move.

“Just like our first lesson, every guy will be different,” I told her, wrapping a hand around my length and leading it to her tongue. “So tonight, you’re going to experiment until you figure out what it is I like.”

I ran my head over the length of her tongue, groaning at the sensation of her coating me.

“I’ll guide you,” I promised, noting the worry in her eyes when I put the control in her hands.

Then, I let go, holding my hands at my sides as Giana stared at my length in front of her.

I watched in awe as that same determination slipped over her, and she pressed up onto her knees, grabbing me around the shaft and bringing my crown to her lips. She wet them first, gliding them along my tip before she slowly opened them and sucked me inside.

“Fuuuccckkk,” I hissed, closing my eyes and flexing in deeper without meaning to. Giana opened for me, taking in the first inch and a half before she swirled her tongue around me and released.

I looked back down at her with heavy lids, and she held my gaze as she opened up again, this time taking me in even deeper.

“There you go,” I whispered, hand coming to cradle the back of her head. I held her on me, sliding her just up to the tip of me before I guided her carefully back down again. “Just like that.”

She lit up again, mimicking the movement as I removed my hand and let her take control. Her warm, wet mouth slowly took more and more of me, and each centimeter she enveloped made my toes curl. She closed her eyes, but I snapped my fingers when she did, making her pop them back open.

“Eyes on me,” I told her.

My heart galloped in my chest as I thought of what I wanted to say next, what I knew she’d love to hear. If I was wrong, this could go a completely different way.

But I was confident I was right.

So I held her gaze and I said, “Look at me while I fuck that pretty mouth.”

She moaned around my shaft, eyes fluttering before she opened them wide and locked them on me. They were heated with even more desire as she took me in again, and this time, she took me so deep she gagged a little.

Shame colored her cheeks as she withdrew, coughing at the sensation.

“It’s okay,” I assured her, running a hand over her curls. “You’ve got to breathe with it. In and out through the nose, hold your breath when it gets deep enough to trigger a gag.”

She nodded, eyes on my shaft just long enough for her to take hold of it and guide it into her mouth before she was watching me again.

Pleasure churned through me as I watched her suck me in again, over and over until I hit deep once more. Her eyes watered, and she held her breath through two pumps before she gagged again.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” I groaned out when she released me, a bit of saliva dripping from her lips.

“It is?”

I nodded, guiding her back to me. “Do it again.”

She sat up even more on her knees, taking me in again, and this time, she slicked me three times before taking me as deep as she could. She held her breath, eyes watering and fluttering as she watched me and finally gagged and released.

“Goddamn, Giana,” I praised, running the pad of my thumb over her slick bottom lip. “Such a good fucking girl.”

Again, my theory was rewarded when desire coated her eyes and she opened her mouth, sucking my thumb between her lips and lashing at it with her tongue. I groaned, cock twitching and aching in jealousy to have that mouth on it instead.

“Now, use your mouth and your hand,” I told her, guiding her back to me. “Fit them together, roll your hand in a seam with your mouth and go as deep as you can. Find a rhythm.” I paused, holding her gaze. “Make me come.”

She let out a soft moan as she did what I said, fitting her mouth to me before her hand slipped under it. I helped her at first, telling her when to slow down or give more pressure, but it wasn’t long until I couldn’t tell her anything anymore because my head was airy, skin prickling as my orgasm built at her touch.

“Fuck yes, Kitten, just like that,” I said, hips flexing as I pressed a little deeper into her mouth.

She let me, working me in time with her hand, head bobbing with her eyes still locked on mine. She swirled her tongue around the length of me, making me see stars and want to be deeper.

“I’m close,” I warned, the words gritting through me as I tried to speak when I was consumed by how she was making me feel. “You can either pull me out when I’m there, or you can take it in your mouth and swallow me down.”

She moaned, intensifying her efforts, and I had no way of knowing what her choice would be until I got there. So I let go, giving up on instructing and reveling in her velvet, slick hand wrapping me up before her wet mouth took its place. Over and over, a little faster each time, she pumped me as a hot fire licked up my spine.

I needed more.

Carefully cradling the back of her neck, I guided her down deeper, a little faster, my eyes squeezing shut as she found just the right pressure and pace to push me over the edge.

“Coming,” I managed through my teeth, and I expected her to pull away. I expected to have to pump out the rest of my release on my own and spill onto the fucking wood. But instead, she held her pace.

And to my surprise, she took me even deeper.

“Fuck,” I cursed, and everything went numb as I released.

I spilled into her throat, the orgasm even stronger when she gagged a little but kept on, squeezing out every last drop of me as I shook and curled my fingers in her hair.

I tried to be quiet, knowing the guide who let us in was still in the front booth and could easily come up to find us. That thought made it even hotter, that she was sucking me knowing we could be caught at any minute, and I stifled a groan as the last of my orgasm spilled into Giana’s mouth.

An involuntary shake left me when she kept going after I was spent, and I held her back, slowing her, trembling breaths slipping through my lips.

“It’s sensitive after,” I told her, and she gently released me, but not before she looked me right in the eyes and swallowed.

Then, she pressed a feather-light kiss to my shaft, and she smiled. “How’d I do?”

I let out a little laugh as another tremble went through me, and I backed up long enough to pull my briefs and sweatpants back up.

“I think you already know the answer.”

She flushed, smile brightening.

“But you want to hear it, don’t you?” I added, lowering myself down to where she was.

Her eyes widened, smile fading as I invaded her space.

“You want me to tell you how good you made me feel, how hot it was to see you on your knees for me, to watch as I fucked your mouth.”

I grabbed her face, tilting her up so I could claim her mouth in a hot, possessive kiss.

“You swallowed my cum,” I reminded her, nipping her bottom lip with my teeth as she let out a whimper of a moan. “And you want to know if I liked it as much as you did.”

“Yes,” she breathed, gasping when I trailed bruising kisses down her neck. I was already unfastening her blouse, already lying her back against the dome wall.

“Let me show you,” I whispered into the shell of her ear.

And then I kissed my way down, ready to feast.

Giana

My heart thundered in my ears as Clay pressed me down against the cool metal of the observatory dome, his hot kisses trailing down the length of my body as I trembled beneath him. I was still breathing heavy from going down on him, from the power I felt humming through me at being the one to make him unravel.

He paused at my navel, pressing slow, lingering kisses along each rib as he unfastened every button of my blouse and pulled it from where it was tucked into my skirt. My modest breasts heaved when he peeled the fabric away to reveal them, and he hummed in approval, tracing the cups of my bra over each swell as my skin pebbled under the touch.

“Just like before, you’ll have to tell me what you like,” he murmured against my skin, kissing the spot above my belly button as one finger dipped under the cup of my bra. It brushed against my nipple in time with a swipe of his tongue over my stomach, and I shivered, hands tightening into fists at my sides. “And what you don’t.”

I nodded, though my heart was racing so loud I could barely hear him. I just watched in a mixture of fear and anticipation as he trailed his kisses lower, flipping up the hem of my skirt to reveal my white lace panties beneath it.

Clay fixed his eyes on me, then trailed one soft fingertip down the center of the fabric, the sensation so light it was a brutal tease against my aching clit.

“Clay,” I cried, my head falling back as my eyes closed.

“Fuck, Kitten,” he said next, his fingertips playing at the seam of my thong. “You fucking loved that, didn’t you? Being on your knees for me. You’re soaked.”

He slicked a finger through my wetness with the comment, and heat invaded my neck even though I opened for him more. I was as ashamed as I was aroused, and the latter won over.

“Yes,” I confessed.

“What did you like?” he teased, running the pad of his thumb over the fabric and back down again. It pressed the harsh lace against me, a burning friction that made me writhe with need. “Did you like how I tasted, how you gagged on my cock?”

“Yes,” I breathed, rolling my lips together as I squirmed beneath his touch. “And I loved when you came because of me.”

“All because of you,” he validated, and that made my nipples peak, made me light up with pride and power.

Clay lowered himself even more, until he was lying on his stomach with his elbows propped under my legs. I had no choice but to set my thighs on his shoulders, and my knees bent inward, because I was suddenly aware that my wet sex was right in his face.

“Don’t,” he said, stopping me before my knees could touch. He gently tapped the inside of each one until I let them fall back open. “I want to see you, Kitten,” he cooed. “I want to taste you.”

A breath of a moan fell through my lips as he did just that, keeping his eyes on me as he ran the flat of his tongue over the lace of my panties. He soaked whatever my pussy hadn’t already, wetting the fabric and using his tongue to press against it and rub a sweet friction over my clit.

“Oh, God,” I breathed, head falling back against the dome again. My hands shot out for his hair instinctively, but I tore them away, reaching for my sides, instead.

“Do it,” he said, grabbing one hand and moving it back to his hair. “Show me where.”

My fingers curled in the soft strands, and he enveloped me with his mouth again, licking from my seam up to my bud in a hot heat. I held him there at my clit, and he grinned against my bucking hips before swirling his tongue over the lace.

I moaned, pushing my hips up and toward him, seeking more.

“There?” he asked, flicking the bud with the tip of his tongue.

I nodded, wetting my lips before I dragged my teeth over the bottom one.

“Let’s get this out of the way, shall we?” Clay sat back on his elbows just long enough to tug at my panties, and I lifted my hips, helping him slide them down until he drew them off one leg and then the other.

He paused at my ankle, trailing up my knee-high stocking until he slipped a finger beneath the top of it.

“These drive me insane, you know,” he husked, taking his time crawling his hands back up to where I really wanted them. “Every time you wear them, I think of how many ways I could peel them off you.”

I knew he was faking. I knew he was just giving me the dirty talk he could clearly see I reacted to. But still, I lit up under those words as if they were the purest truth, as if I really could be sexy enough to drive a man like Clay Johnson to insanity.

He settled back in between my thighs, groaning when he had me open and right in his face. “Damn,” he breathed. “Such a pretty pussy.”

He ran his finger along the outer edges, tracing my lips and the sensitive area between my vagina and ass. I shivered at the touch, and then his hands gripped my thighs and pulled me into him.

His eyes found mine, and he lowered.

The first hot sensation of his mouth enveloping me without a barrier between us sucked me under like a rip current. I was helpless to even try to hold my composure as he did some sort of combination of sucking and licking that literally made my knees quake around him.

I let out something between a curse and a moan, something like a breathy prayer, and Clay smiled against my sensitive skin, pressing a lighter kiss to my bud.

“Tell me what you like,” he reminded me, and then his fingers gripped into my thighs as he lowered his mouth again.

It lit my entire body on fire, watching as he swayed his head gently, feeling his tongue slicking every centimeter of me. He ran it hot and flat along my seam before tightening it into a hard tip to flick it against my bud. He drew circles and lines, sucked and licked, moaned with a humming vibration that felt like having a vibrator in the best possible spot.

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell him anything. Instead, my hands weaved into his hair again, and I tightened my grip any time he paid attention to my clit.

“Mmmm,” he hummed against it, and I shook around him, my orgasm building more and more with every lash of his tongue. “What about this?”

He shifted his weight onto one elbow, the free hand trailing up the length of my stomach to rest between my breasts. His palm splayed my ribcage, and then he roughly shoved one cup of my bra up over my breast and palmed it.

I arched into the brute touch, gasping for air as that sensation rivaled with the wet heat of his tongue between my thighs. He massaged my breast as he licked me, then sucked my clit while his fingers tightened over my nipple and gave a gentle, twisting tug.

“Clay!”

I cried out his name and I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t know if I was desperate for him to stop or if I wanted even more. I squirmed beneath him as he held my thigh as steady as he could, continuing his assault on my pussy as his hand worked one breast and then the other.

The combination had me teetering on the edge of ecstasy, but something was missing.

“More,” I panted. “I need… more.”

“More,” Clay repeated, and his hand trailed down from my breast to between my thighs. He held my stare as that hand disappeared beneath me, and then I felt a fingertip pressing against my entrance. “Here?”

“Yes,” I begged.

With a devilish smirk, Clay slipped that finger inside me, all at once and to the very center of me. I cried out, but in the next instant, his mouth was on my clit again, sucking and licking as his finger withdrew and plunged inside me again.

He angled his wrist so he could curl that finger inside me, and as I shook and writhed beneath him, he added another.

It was everything I wanted. I was full, his fingers stretching me as his tongue pressed just the right amount of pressure where I needed it. That along with the sight of him burying his face between my thighs was too much to stay composed under.

“Rub your tits for me, Kitten,” he breathed against my skin, the breath cool where I was wet and hot. “Stroke yourself with me. Come for me.”

I had no choice but to obey, and when my fingers plucked at my pebbled nipple, I whimpered and moaned and squirmed and bucked my hips against his mouth. He met my eager request for more with an increased pressure, the sounds of him sucking and finger-fucking me the last thing that drove me over the edge.

I tumbled, spiraling as my orgasm soared through me. It burned like ice down my spine all the way to my toes, which curled as my legs shook so violently, Clay clamped his grip to hold me still. He never relented, driving his tongue in time with his fingers until the very last of my orgasm spilled through me.

And I collapsed.

Every inch of me fell limp, my breaths erratic, heart a fucking jackhammer in my chest as Clay smiled against my pussy. He softly kissed my bud, but it was so sensitive that I shook with the touch. He continued those sweet kisses on every inch of my body as he carefully made his way up to sit next to me.

Once he was there, he pulled me into him.

I felt like the smallest thing in the world cradled in his arms, my pussy still pulsing between my thighs as I curled into him.

“Lesson complete,” he whispered, kissing my hair.

“You are so fucking good at that.”

He barked out a laugh. “So are you.”

“Really?” I peeled back to look at him. “Did I do okay?”

His smile slipped, his eyes skating over my face before he spotted a rogue curl and tucked it behind my ear. “You were amazing.”

“Do I need to go deeper? Should I get some lessons on deep throating or something?”

“Jesus, Kitten, are you trying to get me hard again?”

I laughed. “I’m surprised I could even fit you in my mouth.”

“Okay seriously, stop talking.”

He grabbed himself under his sweats and adjusted, and I flushed, leaning into his chest.

“Thank you for showing me all this.”

My chest ached with something I couldn’t quite name, like remembering that that’s all he was doing hurt for some reason. I was thankful he was showing me. It was what I asked him for.

But he was so good at pretending that sometimes it felt…

I couldn’t even finish the thought. I just clamped my mouth shut, closing my eyes and willing the anxiety to fly away.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he said, swallowing. “And for letting me escape in you.”

I peered up at him. “I’m always here,” I promised.

And I didn’t mean just while we were fake-dating, or when we were putting on a show for Shawn or Maliyah or whoever else was watching. I meant now, and after… whatever it might look like after.

After this was all over, after he had Maliyah back and I had…

Again, the thought raced from me before I could finish it, and I let out a strange noise as I peeled away from him and sat up, collecting my panties from where they rested by his feet.

“We need food,” I declared, standing and pulling on my thong without looking back at him. “And probably a shower.”

Clay chuckled, taking his time rising to his feet. I could see he was still turned on, the bulge in his sweatpants giving him away. He saw me staring at it and smirked, but then something washed over him, something sad and overpowering.

I didn’t know what it was, didn’t know what had happened tonight or why he was upset. But whatever I’d done to ease the pain had been temporary, because I watched in slow motion as he became distant again, that lost look in his eyes.

“I think I’m going to head back to the dorm,” he said. “Get some sleep.”

I nodded, trying not to show my disappointment. “Okay.”

“You good?”

I swallowed, then held out my thumb with as big of a smile as I could muster. “Peachy.”

Clay frowned, like he wasn’t sure if he could believe me, and the smile was getting weaker by the minute, so I turned and grabbed my bag off the ground, slinging it over my shoulder.

I headed for the stairs, Clay on my heels, and when we made it down and out of the observatory, we paused at the fork in the sidewalk — one way leading to his dorm on campus, the other pointing toward my apartment.

“Let me walk you home.”

“No,” I insisted, shaking my head. “I’m going to get food. Maybe stop by the coffee shop to see Shawn play.”

It was a lie, a bold-faced one I tried to seal with an excited smile as if that’s all I wanted in the world — to see Shawn Stetson.

The truth was much darker, much more foreign, and much more terrifying.

I was running from a feeling demanding to be felt, a monster with gruesome teeth and sharp claws I knew would maim me if I let it catch up.

Clay didn’t let on any emotion when he asked, “He’s playing tonight?”

“Yeah. He told me when we ran into each other at the game.”

“Oh.”

I nodded, adjusting my bag on my shoulder.

“Let me know how it goes,” Clay finally said.

“I will,” I promised.

And in the most awkward goodbye ever, I offered him a peace sign before scurrying off with the memory of his tongue between my thighs etched into my brain forever.