“Oliver wanted more from me. He stayed on to do his PhD and wanted to take things further. I didn’t—he knew nothing about me. I never told him.
“After we slept together, I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. I thought being intimate with him would help me get closer, that it would bring my walls crashing down. But all I felt was strangling disappointment. I thought I was unable to ever be close to another person again. In the end, I freaked. I ran. Simple. He woke up and I was gone. I haven’t spoken to him since.”
Knowing that some British punk bastard had my girl naked, pinned beneath him, him coming within her, made anger pulse in my veins. I couldn’t speak. It was like I was possessed, and for a moment, the severity of that possession scared me. The girl was friggin’ bewitching me.
By the fidgeting of Molly’s body, I knew she wanted me to say something, but I couldn’t, couldn’t cope with the thought of her with someone else. Eventually she settled down, accepting my inability to speak, and with a reassuring sigh, she confessed, “That was until you. I’m close to you. I let you in. Maybe I’m not as damaged as I thought.”
Jesus. Those words did something to me deep inside, like a bolt of electricity billowed through my body. She was close to me; she let me in. I was an undeserving motherfucker, completely worthless—I’d been told so all my life—but that only made what she said that much more special. To her, I was worthy.
Feeling on top of the world, I said gently, “You’re not the only one who feels like splitting when times get rough, baby, but from now on, I won’t let you run anywhere if I’m not right there running beside you.”
But then she asked about me, my family, and a jolt of panic ripped through me. How could I tell her my deal? It was beyond f**ked up, and I just couldn’t do it.
“We should go,” I ordered abruptly when I felt her grow cold and shiver with the evening breeze.
Stiffening, she protested. “I don’t want to leave yet. I want to know about you.”
But I didn’t want her to know, didn’t want her tarnished by that shit. Molly was now the one part of my life, besides football, my folks had no control over, and I’d be damned if I infected her with that poison.
I was done with any talk of my past, my folks. So pulling her up off the grass, I dodged her questions and led her in silence to the truck.
As I drove, my mind worked in overtime. I tried to find a reason why Molly would want to be with me, memories of my parents telling me how no one would ever love me circling my brain. She didn’t give a shit about my money, had no f**king clue about football, and even when she’d seen me play, still didn’t seem to care for all the hype. She didn’t give two shits about her social standing, didn’t care for popularity; she had her own mind, her own goals, none of which would be furthered by me. It only led me to one conclusion, but I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it.
“You okay? You seem miles away,” Molly asked, taking my hand, looking up at me with that beautiful, open face.
“Yeah.”
“You sure? You don’t look it.” Turning my head to meet her worried gaze, I couldn’t speak the words. Why do you want me? I’m not good enough for you. You should get out now before it’s too late.
“Rome, what is it?” she asked, this time with more insistence.
I cleared my throat and murmured, ashamedly, “I never knew before tonight what it felt like to be wanted… just me for me.” I saw the sadness creep onto her face, but I needed to know something for my sanity, so I asked, “What do you want me for, Mol? I’m trying to work it out.”
“I just want you,” she said, inching closer and pressing into my side, kissing my bare shoulder.
“That’s what I don’t get. Why would you want me for just me? No one ever has before. I’m pissed twenty-four-seven. I’m possessive and not good with attachments—where’s the attraction?”
“Then I’m the first, because I want you without anything in return. Why does any human want anyone? My body recognizes you as something that’s good for me. My mind recognizes you as someone who’s right for me, and my soul recognizes you as someone who is meant for me.”
Sincerity filled every word she said.
I relaxed, embracing the fact that, for the first time in my entire life, I was wanted… just for me. Relishing the satisfaction that was settling in my blood, I whispered, “We’re in f**king deep, aren’t we, Shakespeare?”
“I think that’s an understatement,” Molly said with that huge, stunning smile of hers. When I glanced down at her happy face, I didn’t think about pulling over and f**king her into next week. I didn’t think of what she would taste like writhing on my tongue. I just wanted her beside me, like this, wanting me. So, tilting my head, I ordered, “Come here,” and she did, no questions asked, getting me like no one before.
After dropping Mol off at her door, I drove to my frat house, parked, and headed through the front entrance. I passed the TV room, and several of the guys, including Austin, Reece and Jimmy-Don, looked up as I walked in. It already felt weird, not being with Mol and being back with guys… It felt kind of wrong, every cell in my body urging me to go to her again.
Moving to the kitchen, needing a distraction, I opened the fridge and grabbed myself a beer. When I shut the door, Austin was leaning against the island, watching me.
“Eighty-three,” I greeted, using his nickname, his jersey number.
“After we slept together, I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. I thought being intimate with him would help me get closer, that it would bring my walls crashing down. But all I felt was strangling disappointment. I thought I was unable to ever be close to another person again. In the end, I freaked. I ran. Simple. He woke up and I was gone. I haven’t spoken to him since.”
Knowing that some British punk bastard had my girl naked, pinned beneath him, him coming within her, made anger pulse in my veins. I couldn’t speak. It was like I was possessed, and for a moment, the severity of that possession scared me. The girl was friggin’ bewitching me.
By the fidgeting of Molly’s body, I knew she wanted me to say something, but I couldn’t, couldn’t cope with the thought of her with someone else. Eventually she settled down, accepting my inability to speak, and with a reassuring sigh, she confessed, “That was until you. I’m close to you. I let you in. Maybe I’m not as damaged as I thought.”
Jesus. Those words did something to me deep inside, like a bolt of electricity billowed through my body. She was close to me; she let me in. I was an undeserving motherfucker, completely worthless—I’d been told so all my life—but that only made what she said that much more special. To her, I was worthy.
Feeling on top of the world, I said gently, “You’re not the only one who feels like splitting when times get rough, baby, but from now on, I won’t let you run anywhere if I’m not right there running beside you.”
But then she asked about me, my family, and a jolt of panic ripped through me. How could I tell her my deal? It was beyond f**ked up, and I just couldn’t do it.
“We should go,” I ordered abruptly when I felt her grow cold and shiver with the evening breeze.
Stiffening, she protested. “I don’t want to leave yet. I want to know about you.”
But I didn’t want her to know, didn’t want her tarnished by that shit. Molly was now the one part of my life, besides football, my folks had no control over, and I’d be damned if I infected her with that poison.
I was done with any talk of my past, my folks. So pulling her up off the grass, I dodged her questions and led her in silence to the truck.
As I drove, my mind worked in overtime. I tried to find a reason why Molly would want to be with me, memories of my parents telling me how no one would ever love me circling my brain. She didn’t give a shit about my money, had no f**king clue about football, and even when she’d seen me play, still didn’t seem to care for all the hype. She didn’t give two shits about her social standing, didn’t care for popularity; she had her own mind, her own goals, none of which would be furthered by me. It only led me to one conclusion, but I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it.
“You okay? You seem miles away,” Molly asked, taking my hand, looking up at me with that beautiful, open face.
“Yeah.”
“You sure? You don’t look it.” Turning my head to meet her worried gaze, I couldn’t speak the words. Why do you want me? I’m not good enough for you. You should get out now before it’s too late.
“Rome, what is it?” she asked, this time with more insistence.
I cleared my throat and murmured, ashamedly, “I never knew before tonight what it felt like to be wanted… just me for me.” I saw the sadness creep onto her face, but I needed to know something for my sanity, so I asked, “What do you want me for, Mol? I’m trying to work it out.”
“I just want you,” she said, inching closer and pressing into my side, kissing my bare shoulder.
“That’s what I don’t get. Why would you want me for just me? No one ever has before. I’m pissed twenty-four-seven. I’m possessive and not good with attachments—where’s the attraction?”
“Then I’m the first, because I want you without anything in return. Why does any human want anyone? My body recognizes you as something that’s good for me. My mind recognizes you as someone who’s right for me, and my soul recognizes you as someone who is meant for me.”
Sincerity filled every word she said.
I relaxed, embracing the fact that, for the first time in my entire life, I was wanted… just for me. Relishing the satisfaction that was settling in my blood, I whispered, “We’re in f**king deep, aren’t we, Shakespeare?”
“I think that’s an understatement,” Molly said with that huge, stunning smile of hers. When I glanced down at her happy face, I didn’t think about pulling over and f**king her into next week. I didn’t think of what she would taste like writhing on my tongue. I just wanted her beside me, like this, wanting me. So, tilting my head, I ordered, “Come here,” and she did, no questions asked, getting me like no one before.
After dropping Mol off at her door, I drove to my frat house, parked, and headed through the front entrance. I passed the TV room, and several of the guys, including Austin, Reece and Jimmy-Don, looked up as I walked in. It already felt weird, not being with Mol and being back with guys… It felt kind of wrong, every cell in my body urging me to go to her again.
Moving to the kitchen, needing a distraction, I opened the fridge and grabbed myself a beer. When I shut the door, Austin was leaning against the island, watching me.
“Eighty-three,” I greeted, using his nickname, his jersey number.
