“Pretty sure you’re covered. Yellow means you’re sorry,” I say.
“I know,” he smirks. “I read the cheat sheet at the Kwik Trip.
I huff out a quick laugh and hug my flowers tighter. They get less ugly by the minute.
“Come on,” he says, tugging my hand toward him, urging me to follow him to his apartment. “And don’t worry. My dad is with the coaching staff all night. They’ll be late.”
I nod and we walk together to his door. The windows are dark except for a dim light filtering through the front blinds. He unlocks the door to an empty space, the only light on is the one above the sink. I stare at it for a moment as we come inside and remember making popcorn at that counter for the Wallace girls when I babysat them.
“Your mom isn’t here,” I note.
He shakes his head.
“She said she might be out late. It’s girls’ night with my great aunts. Those ladies are twenty years older than my mom, but they can drink like frat boys,” he jokes.
My mouth tightens into a smile at that thought.
“I wish I had family like yours,” I admit.
“You should meet them,” he says over his shoulder as he heads toward the hallway and his room. “They’d probably get you drunk too.”
“Be right back,” he adds as he disappears down the hall. I hover around his kitchen table and turn in a slow circle, examining the space. This place has always felt so safe for me, and it does now too.
I turn to face the hallway again, seeing a faint light come through James’s cracked door and the occasional shadow of his movement. No longer wanting to be alone, I steal my way down the hallway until I reach his door. I push it open cautiously, without him hearing me at first as he’s slipping his sweatshirt and T-shirt from his body. He reaches down and picks up a clean long-sleeved tee shirt from the chair by his bed and turns before putting it on. He stops with his hands barely inside when he sees me and drops it to the floor before letting his eyes rake over me. His jeans are low on his hips, his abs defined, and the black band of his underwear taut against his stomach. I lick my lips at the sight of the V that forms on either side.
I bring my gaze up to meet his and work my shoes from my feet without breaking our connection. His chest flexes with his breath, which grows more rapid by the second. I lift the sweatshirt I stole from one of the linemen last year over my head and toss it to the floor then follow it with the black baby tee I am wearing underneath.
The one thing I indulge in always, no matter how sad or hopeless I may feel, is dressing in a nice bra and panty set. I was given a lot of nice things from a sponsor when I was a freshman, and it made it impossible to ever wear anything that didn’t make me feel beautiful underneath. Of course, my body has grown to fill things out differently, and now I don’t just feel beautiful in the black satin and lace from Fleur du Mal, but I feel powerful.
“You know, boys have these schoolgirl fantasies . . .” James begins, his hands wringing at his sides as his eyes haze and focus on my breasts. The demi-cup bra covers half of my nipples, which are hard as diamonds.
“Girls have those fantasies, too,” I say, inching toward him.
He keeps his hands to his sides as I close in, letting me press a hand above his belly button and slowly paint my fingers lower to the button on his jeans. I look up into his hooded eyes. He’s biting his fat bottom lip, his breathing measured.
I pull the button free and drag the zipper down without looking. His eyes dip, his attention on my touch. His body trembles, but before I move again, he grabs my wrists and holds me still, forcing his gaze up to meet mine. His eyes are full of want and conflict and something else I can’t quite read.
“Is this . . . okay?” My heart begins to pound.
A nervous laugh dashes from James’s mouth and he nods.
“Yeah, Morgan. This isveryokay. I wanted to tell you first, though . . . this thing with me and you? This isn’t some hookup for me. I don’t see you likethat, I mean. I see you like long-term. Like the big G word.”
My mouth slips into a crooked smile and I arch a brow.
“Girlfriend, Morgan. Girlfriend,” he breathes out, play rolling his eyes.
“Ohhhh,” I say, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the divot in his throat before slowly nipping my way to his jaw. He turns into my kiss until our mouths meet and his lips cover mine, his tongue probing my mouth and his teeth grazing along my bottom lip as he pulls away.
“What I’m saying, ortryingto say,” he continues. I step up on my toes to kiss his mouth again, mostly to tease him. He laughs through our touch then brings a hand up to press two fingers to my lips.
“Damn it, let me talk,” he protests. His mouth shifts from smile to letting out a trembling, nervous breath. “Morgan, I’m . . . I’m falling for you. I’m fallingin lovewith you. And I have no intention of sneaking around and ignoring you in front of my father or any of that. I have every intention of beating the shit out of anyone who is mean to you. Or looks at you like you’re theirs. Or . . .”
I pull his hand away from his mouth.
“I’m falling for you too. In love with you. And I’m shit at trust and come with loads of daddy issues. But if you can get past that, I think you and I might end up being pretty great for each other.”
James stops breathing for a beat, his eyes locked on mine as his head falls to the side a tick.