Who Breaks First (Clearwater University)

“I have too.” Fuck. I can’t believe I just admitted to that.

Then he grins wolfishly, pulling me harder against him, grinding my clit against the hard plane of his abs. My pussy throbs, already demanding more. “Even in my imagination, it wasn’t as good as this.”

His words stop me. I’m quiet for a moment, thinking about how perfectly our bodies fit together. There’s this magnetic pull between us that I know has been there from the start—I just didn’t realize it would explode like this once we lit the spark. My whole body opened up to him in a way I never expected, especially when I remember just how terrible he’s been to me.

But when we were having sex, it was like burning away all of that toxic history in a massive funeral pyre, feeling the cleansing flames lick through me. My body just gave over to him, and in that moment, I trusted him fully.

Was that a huge fucking mistake? Is the other shoe going to drop now?

It also occurs to me that I really want to ask Trent about high school. I can’t believe he blamed me for his parents’ divorce all this time, and I’ll never get over how hurt and betrayed I feel that he didn’t even fucking ask me—and refused to believe me at the restaurant when I promised him it hadn’t been me.

I want to know if there’s a reason—something that made him so sure it was me, that made him refuse to even give me the chance to defend myself. That turned him against me so completely it practically gave me whiplash.

But tension starts to creep into my body as I think about that conversation. If we start dredging up that shit, I have no doubt that the comfortable bubble we’re in right now will pop in a hurry. And I don’t want it to.

Tonight is all a lie anyway. Why can’t it be a happy lie?

So instead, I bring up a good memory, resting my hands on his chest and gazing down at him.

“Do you remember that time we went down to the beach at the end of my sophomore year?” I ask.

“Yeah, we had a bonfire with the guys.”

“I think that was my favorite high school memory. We made s’mores. It was the first time I’d ever had them, and you were all shocked about that.” I bite my lip, knowing what I’m about to say is giving too much of my heart away, revealing too much. But I say it anyway. “You did this thing where you brought your hand to my back and kind of… caressed it, I guess.”

“I wanted to touch you so badly.”

Trent’s eyes take on a faraway look as he brings his hand down to run his fingertips over the side of my waist, as if appreciating the fact that right now, in this moment, he can touch me.

“I just remember how good it felt. Everything was just so perfect that night. Do you remember all those stories that Reese told? They were so funny, I laughed until I cried.”

“Jesus. Fuckin’ Reese and his stories. You know half of those were made up, right?”

I grin. “Yeah. I know. Somehow I figured he’d never been part of a biker gang. I still loved hearing them though.”

“Yeah. Good times,” Trent says, and there’s something in his voice that makes me think he honestly means it. That he misses those days.

It doesn’t seem right though. How can he miss them when he’s the one who snatched them away from us, who made my junior year at Amundsen a living hell?

A glimmer of anger flickers in my heart, and I can feel my body tense. Maybe Trent can feel it, because his voice is a little strained when he speaks again.

“I got a call from my mom tonight on the way over here. About going on vacation or something.”

The memory of my phone call with Dad flashes through my mind. “Oh my God, my dad said the same thing.”

“How insane is that going to be?” He snorts a laugh.

I can’t manage to laugh at all, because the thought of it is just too unpleasant. How are we going to navigate this whole situation? How are we supposed to be civil for an entire weekend—or even longer? Will our parents be able to tell we’ve hooked up? Will they sense the weirdness between us?

Will the tentative truce we’re building hold up under that kind of strain, or will things explode into a total shit show?

“You have to promise you’ll never tell your mom this happened,” I say, all of a sudden feeling panicky.

“Emma, do you seriously think that I’d ever want my mother to know about this?” Trent asks with a laugh.

“I’m just making sure. If my dad found out, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“You’d tell him it was the best fuck of your life, that’s what you’d do,” he growls, pulling in for another searing kiss.