Page 52 of Unfix Me
“I’m…”
Pulling back slightly, I raised one brow.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled, casting his eyes to the floor.
Using my grip on his jaw, I angled his face toward me and kissed him softly. I could feel the way he relaxed from the simple touch. It was glaringly obvious there was an ass load of repression going on and I wanted to know the extent of it, but now wasn’t the time. I didn’t want this moment to end because I was afraid that it’d never return.
“You can touch me,” I said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him raise his hand. He was shaking so much that I sort of worried he was gonna have a heart attack or something. I took his wrist and guided him to my face, leaning into his touch. His throat bobbed as his fingers pushed through my hair.
“You’re gross and sweaty.”
“Mhm.” I smiled and let my eyes fall shut. “I think you’re digging all of this raw, masculine energy.”
I tried to come up with a way to ask him what he wanted. He was like a rabbit in the forest, skittish and ready to run. I was worried he’d be too quick for me to catch him. I was fast, though.
The door to the locker room opened, letting in laughter and conversation. I glanced over my shoulder, seriously considering threatening them until they all left. Sen had already dropped his hand and gone tense, though. I knew that the moment was over, which made me rack my brain faster for something to say.
Before I could figure it out, he ducked under my arm. I watched him disappear around a row of lockers toward the side door.
Damnit.
At least I knew where he lived. He could knock on doors and disappear before I had the chance to answer, but now he’d given me a reason to chase him. He wanted to knock, but I might just smash through like the Kool-Aid man.
Maybe I had a concussion. I didn’t think I’d hit my head, but I hadn’t let them check me out, so it was possible. That entire encounter could’ve been in my imagination. I might be able to convince myself of that if I didn’t still feel his lips on mine.
“Jesus, Kai. Why would you run off like that?”
I turned to West and blinked a few times to clear my head. He looked frantic with worry, his blue eyes somehow brighter than usual.
“They didn’t need to fuss over me.”
He marched closer and took my face in his hands. Holding onto it firmly, he searched my eyes. I huffed but let him do his little examination. When he was apparently satisfied, he patted my cheek too firmly, making me wince.
“You get hit like that, you let them check you out,” he said with added emphasis.
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. How’d it go out there?’
He broke into a grin, effectively dispelling his previous seriousness. “Basically, I am a football god and I think everybody should bring offerings to my dorm on Fridays.”
“Oh, god. We need to hire someone to manage your ego.”
He laughed as he stripped out of his jersey. I followed suit, glad to finally tear off my gear.
While West launched into a play by play of the last quarter, I remembered the ten-year-old kid I’d met in sixth grade. He was angry and tried to insult me, but I let it roll off of me and told him that I liked his Naruto shirt, even though it had seen better days and was a little small on his lanky body. A few days later, he followed me home from school. I thought for sure he was going to beat me up. Instead, he asked if I had an Xbox. We played until dinner and when my mom motioned for him to join us, he flinched. She saw it, I saw it, and my dad saw it. After that, he ate with us at least a few times each week.
He was the best person I knew. Even though he never believed it, I constantly reminded him of his potential. Without me, I don’t think he would’ve gone to any college, let alone made it into Harmon on a full ride. He’d stared at that acceptance letter for a full hour, as if he had to convince himself he remembered how to read.
I loved the guy. He was more of a brother than a best friend. Our bond was irreplaceable and when he made it big, like I knew he would, I hoped that wouldn’t change.
“You sticking around?” he asked as he slung his duffel over his shoulder.
“You know I am. Wanna join?”
He considered it for a second, then shook his head. “I’m beat. Probably won’t even make it out of my clothes before I pass out.”
I held out my fist and he bumped it. With a wink, he spun around and headed for the exit. I heard him talking to someone else, which made me laugh. He was like an old man at Thanksgiving, always finding a victim to corner and lure into conversation.
