I nod, drying my hands on the towel. “Never been better.”
He grins. “I see that. You’re not just playing like you’ve got something to prove—tonight you’re playing like you’ve got something to lose.”
I think about his words as I drift back to my place on the field, soaking up the sounds, the lights, the energy that still feeds me like a physical substance. I glance higher into the stands, and though I can’t find her with the thousands crowding the bleachers, I can feel her presence.
Pax makes a beeline for me, his gaze intense. “Stop hunting for my little sister, and get your head in the game.”
I flash an immediate grin. “You have your game habits, I’ve got mine.”
His lips tip upward. After that night on the dock a month ago, something changed for all of us, something individually as well as collectively. A price was put on friendship and love. A reality we’d already met once that reminded us nothing is guaranteed and everything should be savored. “You feeling okay?”
We’ve worked diligently to keep the details from that night out of the press in hopes of saving what was left of Lindsay Meyer’s reputation. Last we heard, she transferred to a school down in Oregon, and her parents moved with her.
Pax nods, then glances up into the stands. “She’s in there somewhere. Don’t let her down,” he pats my shoulder, the same one that has felt weaker all year and still hints at the idea.
We’re at our final bowl game of the year, Christmas having passed just two days before, a Christmas that was different in nearly every aspect from years past. Things between my dad and I didn’t magically resolve with that single conversation at his wedding. He’s still in denial that my future won’t include a plaque on a door at his law office, and though he spends more time at home with Carol than he has with his ex-wives who came before, he still has a long way to go toward reaching any husband of the year awards. Still, Raegan and I went to brunch at their house, where Dad asked too many questions about her dad and her future, and not enough getting to know her. Then Raegan gave him a book about Andy Warhol and the history of modern artists, and it was as though a switch was flipped and the side of my dad that so commonly focusses on business dealings seemed to fade as the lesser-known personal side of him peeked out. They began discussing life and how she had visited Italy as a freshman, my dad’s love for the museums in Italy, her adoration for the culture and food, and before I knew what was happening, they were laughing, and Raegan pulled me into the conversation with both hands, talking about me and our undefeated season, how school was going, and my continued love for history that had us debating modern-day culture and the impacts of past civilizations and which brought us the greatest rewards and cost us the greatest detriments.
After that, we spent the afternoon and evening with Paxton and their mom, grandpa, and Camilla in the new house their mom bought a couple weeks before. It’s a small brownstone, built in the early 1920s. Raegan’s still struggling to know where things lie between her and her dad, and I don’t blame her. At times I want to give my unsolicited advice and tell her to keep him out of her life—especially after everything I saw he was capable of and the destruction he caused others, but Raegan isn’t like me. She has the ability to forgive, and considering I’ve been on the receiving end of that quality, I don’t dare hinder it, only learn from it.
We line up, and I watch the field for the markers Raegan warned us about. I take a final fleeting glance at the crowd before my focus falls solely on the field and each player.
“Why aren’t we celebrating?” Raegan asks, pushing against my shoulder with hers.
“We are.”
“We ditched everyone and came out to eat tacos.”
I grin. “You said they were the best tacos of your life.”
“They were. When in California, baby.” She leans her head against my shoulder, a breeze blowing her hair and perfume to greet me. I smile, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as I stare at the ocean. The waves crash with a natural rhythm dictated by the moon that sits two-hundred-and-thirty-eight thousand and nine-hundred miles away.
“Dr. Swanson accepted me,” she tells me quietly.
I shift, moving to see her. “I told you he would. He didn’t stand a chance after meeting you.”
Raegan grins. “I get to swim with Blue, and it’s all thanks to you.”
“That was all you, Kerosene.”
In one quick move, she closes her eyes and leans into me, her lips warm and impossibly soft as they meet mine, a confidence there that has strengthened over the past month. I place my free hand on her waist, pulling her closer to me as I claim her mouth while she claims the space in my chest that’s solely devoted to her. Her body relaxes against mine, wanting me—trusting me. My fingers at her waist slide beneath her sweatshirt, connecting with her flesh as I swipe my tongue against her lips, parting them. She moans. It’s gentle and quiet, yet I feel it in my chest as I swallow the taste of her. Everything about her makes me feel empowered and emboldened in a way that is more powerful than any win on the field I’ve ever experienced.
I slide my tongue along hers, demanding everything she has to offer while giving what’s left of me that she hasn’t already taken. I move my hands to her thighs, and she knows what I’m going to do before I lift her, making her tense and pull back. I lean closer, silencing her objections as I lower myself to the ground with her on my lap, my hands on her ass, pulling her so close doubt can’t reach either of us as we lose ourselves in this kiss that I know will define the rest of my days.
When she pulls away, we’re both out of breath, our chests heaving as I wish I could transform this beach into anywhere else that would allow me to strip her of her clothes and inhibitions and consume every last part of her.
She leans her forehead against mine, our breath mingling in quick bursts that make my lips dry. “Let’s go. I want you to consume me.”
I swallow her breaths, my forehead still pressed against hers. “I don’t just want to consume you, I want to own you—possess every part of you. Make your heart beat like mine does for you.”
“It already does.”
Not Ready to Say Good-Bye?
Arlo is getting his own book with Evaluating the Rules, releasing June 30th, 2020!
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If you love New Adult Romance, please check out Becoming His while you wait for Evaluating the Rules.
Read the first chapter of Becoming His on the next page!
A Glimpse of Becoming His
Chapter 1
Thump, thump. Thump, thump. My quiet strides are the only sounds this morning aside from the music pouring softly through my earbuds. Along with the exertion of my muscles, it makes me feel nearly euphoric. Some people meditate to find peace and tranquility, me—I run.
Rounding the corner, I take a deep breath of the already warm Southern California air and focus on a growing shadow. Slowing my pace, I look up and see a guy in his early twenties, standing around six feet, with sandy blond hair sticking out in an organized disarray. His black mesh shorts and bright green cut-off T-shirt reveal toned muscles. He’s looking at me and talking, but my music’s too loud to make out his words.