Chapter Seventeen
EMORY
Knox: Dining hall, 7 p.m. Don’t be late.
I stare at the text and then look at the time. He’s two minutes late. How dare he? I smile. He’s so busy, and there’s no doubt in my mind he’s working his hardest to get here.
I lean against the brick wall, thinking back to our movie night the other night where Knox took down my entire stash of Pretzel M&M’s—plus a bag of popcorn—in one sitting. The man can eat.
He also really likes snuggling, but only if he can have his hand up my shirt. He made that an “honorary” rule the other night when he slipped his hand under my shirt and pressed his palm to my stomach. According to him, he wasn’t getting frisky, he just likes the feel of my skin when he holds me.
How can a girl say no to that?
She can’t.
He was right when he told me his schedule was really tight. Mix that with mine, and there aren’t many options for us to meet up during the week, but that’s okay, because we’re keeping it casual. It also makes me want him more, because the moments I do have with him fulfill a need in my soul I didn’t know I had. Which only makes our time together that much sweeter.
From over the hill, I spot Knox briskly walking with Carson and Holt toward me. I know the minute Knox sees me, because a gorgeous and happy smile crosses his face. Carson taps him on the stomach and then points directly at me while saying something I can’t hear, but whatever it is, Knox seems to issue him a warning.
It’s a warm fall day, which means I’m wearing a cute, short black flowy skirt with knee-high knitted socks and a long-sleeved button-up blouse, and I left the first few buttons undone to show off a little cleavage for my man.
By the way he’s dragging his hand over his face, he likes what he sees.
Instead of meeting him halfway, I wait for him to close the distance and when he does, he loops his arm around my neck and brings his lips to mine where he slowly works his mouth over mine. Small, closed kisses at first that build and build until my mouth parts and our tongues connect.
“Dude, I’m starving, and you’re paying, so can you remove your mouth from Em’s so we can get some food?”
Sighing, Knox pulls away and squeezes my side. His forehead connects with mine as he says, “You look fucking hot, babe.”
“Good, because I chose this for you.”
“It’s appreciated.” He moves his hand to mine and presses our palms together as our hands link. “Come on, dinner is on me. I owe these two, and I’m paying for my girl.”
He doesn’t give me time to protest as we walk up the stairs to the dining hall. There are five dining halls on campus, including one in the student union, but Lakeview is the best not only because it’s where my dorm is located, but because it’s on the second story and looks over Lake Michigan. It also has a make-your-own salad station I’ve become addicted to.
When we reach the top, Carson and Holt split up as I turn to Knox and ask, “What are you in the mood for?”
He scans the different stations and says, “I think lasagna and a side salad. And a cookie.”
I chuckle. “Of course. You can’t go without your sweets, can you?”
“Hell no.” He kisses my cheek and says, “Meet you at the register.”
Everyone splits up as we gather our dinners on the black trays. Knox pays, which in all honesty isn’t a lot, because dining hall food is cheap plus he has an unlimited dining card, and we pick a table that’s lined up against the large windows where we have the perfect view of Lake Michigan. Knox sits next to me while Carson and Holt sit across from us.
Before I can grab my fork, all three guys are shoveling food into their mouths. Holt has a salad and chicken with a side of fries. Carson went with a burger, roasted veggies, and a side of fries. And all three of them have Gatorades and giant cookies.
Despite the mouthful of food, Carson asks, “Did Knox tell you about his mom and how she’s just dying to meet you?”
He told his mom about me? When was this? And here I thought we were keeping things casual.
I turn to Knox, who has already made an impressive dent in his lasagna. “No, he didn’t. You told your mom about me?”
“Carson did,” Knox says, sounding annoyed.
“And why is that a problem?”
“You don’t know my mom.”
“Please,” Holt interrupts while wiping his mouth. He turns to me and says, “There’s something you need to know about little Knox Gentry. He’s a complete and total mama’s boy.”
What? I never would have pegged him as one.
“Really?” I ask, a smile spreading over my face. “Is that true?”
He stares at his lasagna and shrugs. “My mom might be a good friend of mine.”
“He once said best friend,” Carson adds.
“Seriously?” I ask, feeling frustrated. As if I needed another reason to swoon over this man, he says his mom is his best friend? What is that about?
“We’re close. I mean . . . not so close she’s giving me tips on how to please my girl, but we share things.”
“And she makes the best brownies ever,” Carson adds. “You two would get along really well.”
“Which is why you two need to stay as far away as possible. I don’t need them ganging up on me and talking about how I style my hair or any of that bullshit.”
“I like your hair. I’d never pick on that. Now the baseball hoodie you like to wear a lot . . .” I glance at all three of them, because it’s like their off-the-field uniform.
“I think she’s mocking our clothing,” Holt says.
“I think she is,” Carson adds. “What are you going to do about it, man?”
Knox sits back in his chair and sets his fork down, already done with his meal. Only the cookie is left. Seriously, he unhinges his jaw and shoves it down his throat, there is no other explanation. “Well, boys, I guess the only thing we can do is go home, wash these hoodies, and make sure we wear them every Monday just to drive her crazy.”
They laugh, and I roll my eyes. “Looks like ‘all the oral’ you want isn’t going to happen as soon as you thought.” I pop a cherry tomato in my mouth and smile while I chew. Both Holt and Carson “ooo” from my threat.
“Please, I’ll have that skirt up and around your nipples before you can moan ‘oh, Knox.’ Don’t threaten me, Ealson.”
“Trust me, I can hold out. You’re the one who’s itching to pull my thong off.”
“It’s hot that she said thong,” Holt says with a point of his fork.
“I agree with Em. There’s no way you’ll be able to hold out longer than her.”
“Fuck you. I’m not a horny dickhead. I can hold out. I’ve been holding out.” I can hear the competitiveness in his voice from a mile away.
Carson and Holt scoff, which only fires Knox up more.
“You don’t think I can, do you?” He laughs and breaks off a piece of his cookie, a cocky attitude igniting his eyes. “Fine, it’s on.” He turns to me and says, “The first to break and beg for sexual relations loses.”