The Junior (College Years 3)

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More silence. I don’t quite know how to express myself. My feelings. And I’m not used to that.

“But now what?” she asks after I haven’t said anything.

“Now I want to know what you like. I want to take my time with you. I don’t want to rush into it because I want to savor every minute, every second.” I wince the moment the last sentence leaves me, because it sounds like a crock of shit.

But I’m being real right now. Probably the realest I’ve ever been.

“Caleb…” she starts, but I interrupt her.

“I know it sounds like a bunch of bullshit, but I’m being sincere. I fucking like you, Gracie. Probably too much. And it scares the hell out of me because I don’t want to mess this up, whatever it is that’s happening between us. You mean more to me than just about any other person in my life right now.” I’m digging into some deep shit, and I’m uncomfortable revealing it too, but fuck it. I need to get my feelings out. “I think about you all the time—you’re never out of my thoughts. I just want to see you happy when you’re sad, and I want to make you feel better when you’re not well. Driving to the emergency room was one of the scariest moments I’ve ever experienced in my life, because I didn’t know what was wrong with you, and I felt so out of control. I just wanted to fix it. Fix you.”

We’re getting closer to our apartment complex, thank God. I don’t think I can say much more without having to touch her. I could reach right out and put my hand on her leg, or her knee, but when I barely lift my hand away from the steering wheel, I see that it’s shaking.

Fuck me, this is…a lot.

Worse? She’s quiet, and I’m sure she’s just absorbing what I said, but damn. Now I’m nervous as hell and afraid I ruined everything by saying too much, though when do I not do that? Saying too much is normal for me.

“Your silence is killing me, G,” I whisper as I turn into our complex parking lot. “Say something.”

“Caleb…”

“Just don’t say anything bad. Don’t break my heart. I don’t think I could take it,” I rush out.

“If I say something bad, I could possibly break your heart?” She sounds surprised, as if she has no idea the power she wields with a few choice words.

Pulling into her regular spot, I put Gracie’s car in park before I cut the engine. “Yes. You could. You’re holding everything right now.”

I swallow hard, the silence surrounding us, growing thicker by the second. It’s quiet outside, and still so damn warm. No one is around. Feels like just the two of us in our own little world, having an extremely important conversation on an otherwise normal night.

I chance a glance over at her to find she’s already watching me. Her eyes soft and warm, golden and glowing in the dim light coming from outside. Her lips curl up in the faintest smile and the tension bleeds out of my body, slowly but surely.

“Wow. I didn’t realize you had it in you,” she says.

I frown. “I had what in me?”

“That you could be so sweet.” She reaches over and grabs my hand, interlocking our fingers together. “And thoughtful. And so…open with your feelings.”

“It’s not my usual style,” I admit, squeezing her hand. Wishing I was squeezing other things.

“Oh, I know,” she says with a huff of laughter. I can’t help but smile. “I like this new version of Caleb.”

“You do?” I lean in over the console, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to kiss her. To feel her lips move beneath mine.

“Definitely,” she murmurs as she leans in too, her gaze dropping to my mouth.

I take full advantage and swoop in, kissing her, keeping it light. Soft. Easy. Not pushing at all, which goes completely against my usual moves. Normally I push and push, going for what I want without hesitation, but this woman is…

Special. And right now, she’s still hurting. I can’t do what I really want—fuck her long into the night—but I’ll settle for this. A little honesty.

A lot of kissing.

Gracie opens to me immediately and my tongue finds hers, swirling around it, taking the kiss deeper. The temperature rises in the car, making me feel as if I’m burning up and when she rests her free hand on my bicep, I want her to take it further. Slip her hand under my shirt. Touch my stomach. My pecs. Maybe even rest her hand over my dick so I can show her what she does to me.

But I keep it chaste—for me. Mouths and tongues only, our hands still linked, her other hand on my arm slowly stroking up and down.

Driving me out of my fucking mind.