On a Wednesday (One Week 2)

He cleared his throat, mocking my voice as he read it. “I want a real deal romance. A ‘heart fluttering against my chest when he calls, tears pricking my eyes when he finally tells me that I’m the one’ type of love story. I want that ‘Can’t eat, can’t sleep’ type of high whenever we spend endless hours together. That type of romance.”

He lowered the sheet and stared at me.

“It sounds a bit more natural whenever I read it.”

“No, it sounds like all the symptoms of a disease,” he said. “You may want to check WebMD.”

“Funny.” I snatched the sheet from him. “Can you please get me back to campus by nine?”

“Not if the only reason is to leave me and go out with some other guy.” He looked into my eyes. “That’s not happening.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I shrugged. “Weren’t you just about to have sex with some other girl?”

“I wasn’t quite expecting the girl I went to elementary school with to start talking about fucking in the middle of our walk down memory lane,” he said. “I would’ve turned her down, even if she did send me a consent text.”

“Well, still … Friends can handle their friends going out on dates with other people.”

“Then we need to call this little arrangement something else.” He suddenly pressed his lips against mine, ending my argument with ease.

Tightly gripping my waist with his left hand, he trailed his tongue against my bottom lip—silently demanding entry.

I obliged and grabbed the hem of his shirt—sliding my hand under the fabric and running my palm against his hard and chiseled abs.

He smiled as he continued kissing me, using his right hand to run his fingers through my hair.

“Fuck…” I cursed under my breath as he bit down hard on my bottom lip.

My eyes widened as his cock hardened against my thigh, and it took everything in me not to slide my hands into his pants.

As he slipped his tongue deeper into my mouth—owning me with every stroke of his tongue, my knees weakened, and I felt like I was seconds away from falling back against his car.

“Here,” he whispered against my mouth, steadying me with both hands before I could fall. “Do I still need to bring you back at to campus at nine?”

I shook my head. “No.”

He reclaimed my mouth with his. “I thought so …”

Half an hour later, Kyle steered his truck into an alley next to a pizza parlor.

I stared straight ahead, gently massaging my swollen lips.

“Okay,” he said, shutting off the engine. “Which of these South Side bars is your favorite?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Yeah, me either.” He looked over at me. “I mean, we can’t really go wrong with any of them, but I want to let you pick.”

I sighed. “I don’t have a favorite South Side bar because I’ve never been here before.”

“What? How is that even possible?”

“I’ve never had anyone to go with.” I shrugged. “Pretty sure that getting wasted while bar crawling alone is a terrible idea.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “I knew you were a sad case, Court, but I would’ve never guessed you were this tragic.”

I laughed and punched his shoulder. “I haven’t had the best luck with roommates these past couple years.”

“Noted, but that’s still not an excuse.” He stepped out of the car and walked over to my side.

Opening my door, he extended his hand. “We’ll try the entire left side of the block tonight. Next week, after my game, we’ll try the right side.”

“I have plans next weekend.” I lied. “Solid, unchangeable plans.”

“I know.” He smiled. “You just made them with me.”

He bought me drinks all night, kept his hand firmly secured around my waist as we walked from bar to bar.

In the darkness, he kissed me harder than he did in the parking garage—blurring the lines between us, confusing and arousing me all at once.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I couldn’t deny that this was some of the most fun I’d had all year. That, and I didn’t want our night to end.

Kyle: Then

Senior Year

Pittsburgh

The following Saturday

“Five and oh! Seven more to go! Huahhhh!” My teammates shouted in the locker room after we handed a brutal defeat to Ohio State.

“We’re going out to South Side tonight!” Trevor stood atop a bench. “Drinks are on Kyle!”

Everyone yelled in appreciation, and I wrapped a towel around my waist.

According to the stats, I’d played my best game of the college career so far, and it was more than worthy of an alcohol-infused celebration.

But I didn’t feel like cherishing it with my teammates for some reason.

I’d much rather have a repeat of my night with Courtney instead. Even though we didn’t have sex, and I didn’t even try to cross that line with her.

Maybe I do need to go to student health …