Jake was almost as bad, but he didn’t date anyone long-term. Archie managed a week. Two weeks was his max before junior year, and even then…they didn’t last much longer. Jake was more first and second date then he was done. The chances of a third date were virtually nil.
One could argue that was all of us.
Dragging myself up, I hit the shower. I needed to move my ass.
Coop was the only one who got into relationships, and that guy couldn’t seem to help himself. He was so fucking thoughtful, girls wanted to confide in him. Then he’d be stuck. Right up until he was done, and then he just ended it as abruptly as it began. Frankie though? They were thick as thieves, they always had been. At least ‘til last summer.
A laugh broke out of me as I ducked my head under the water. It was still a little on the coolish side, and it helped with the morning wood that showed up every time even the vaguest thought of Frankie crossed my mind.
Not that it diminished much of the need. The day she’d straddled my legs in the pool and then brushed her lips against mine, I’d gone instantly hard. The kiss that followed cemented it.
I seemed to be living in a permanent state of need.
Not that the shower was doing a damn thing about it. A flash of Frankie’s green eyes as she’d laughed the night before danced across my mind, even as the feeling of her arms wrapping around me from behind sent another bolt of lust right to my balls.
Right hand on my erection, I braced my left against the wall and focused on what it felt like to kiss her and how it felt like when she held onto me. She always smelled so great—even when she complained about smelling like hamburgers after work. Frankie always smelled like Frankie.
It was hardly my first time jerking off in the shower, and definitely not the first time I jerked off to the thought of her. The first slow stroke of my hand from base to tip sent a very pleasant tingling through my balls and up my spine. Eyes closed, all I had to do was imagine pressing my lips to her throat as I stroked slowly. It took very little to stiffen to the point of painful. Wanting her? No, that had never been a problem.
The first time I jacked off, I’d been thinking about Frankie. Well, her breasts specifically. We’d all been wrestling, and she’d ended up smashed against me, and I had a handful of boob. It didn’t hit me until later just how soft and fucking fabulous that had been.
If all I wanted was a pure physical relationship? I’d probably be just like Archie and Jake. But I wanted more than that. Frankie saw me—she saw me when no one else did. Not even the guys. She never forgot the music.
The rasp of her voice when she said my name lit me up. I’d been Bubba to all of them forever. The only other people who called me Ian were my parents. But when Frankie said it? Fuck, that had felt good. The way she’d bite her lower lip when she concentrated on something always pulled me. There was an effortlessness to being around her that I craved.
We didn’t have to be anyone other than ourselves.
Or we used to only have to be us.
Somewhere…that changed.
Pushing my cock through the damp cradle of my palm, I wished like hell it was her. The image of her sprawled on my bed, naked and sweet, open and vulnerable, a temptation and revelation in one beautifully strong package had me groaning as my hips jerked with the orgasm I pulled out.
Fuck. I leaned my head against the tile and sighed.
Wanting her was definitelynotthe problem.
Pushing away, I finished my shower.
Five minutes later, dressed in play gear, hair combed, and my change of clothes stuff stuffed into my duffle, I headed downstairs. I had just enough time for food before I had to leave for school.
“Good morning, Ian,” Dad said from where he waited at the kitchen table.
Crap.
I’d really hoped to avoid this morning’s discussion surely generated by Mom asking me last night if Frankie would be coming by today.
“Morning, Dad. Not a lot of time to talk, got to get to practice.” I had been planning cereal. For now, I dropped a Pop-Tart in the toaster. Too much sugar and I’d be regretting it at lunch, but at the moment, I didn’t care.
“I know, but I wanted to remind you about this afternoon.”
Turning, I stared at him. “Dad, Frankie and I are friends.”
“You’re taking her to Homecoming, Ian. That makes you a lot more than friends.”
“Maybe, but right now, we’re just friends. She’s important to me.”
“She’s troubled,” Dad said quietly, folding his hands together. Everything about him was relaxed and solemn. “After last week—the incident with Jake, the bullying…the photographs.”