Stone Creek Davis, Lainey (best android ereader txt) 📖

and stares at me. "Wait. Are you leaving? I don't have to be on the ice until ten today. It's fucking Saturday, Dahlia. Get your ass back in bed."

"I have to get out of here before your roommates wake up and find me," I say, rifling through his drawers for something that won't fall down off my body. I land on a pair of gym shorts that don't look too enormous. When I put them on, they balloon out from my hips, but I pull the drawstring tighter and they stay up. They look ridiculous, especially with the tight t-shirt I'm still wearing. I bring a hand to my breast and remember how it felt, damp from Neal's mouth as he sucked on me the night before.

But then my busy mind takes over and I ramble. "Not to mention, Linda is probably worried sick about me. And she's going to be mad as a hornet when she finds out I went home with you. Shit, Neal. This is really serious. What are we even doing?" I'm babbling now, almost crying, and he walks across the room to take my arm and sit me on the edge of the bed.

Neal pulls me against him in a hug and kisses the top of my head affectionately. "Listen," he says, rubbing my arm. "Nobody in this apartment is going to say one word to anyone about anyone I am sleeping with. I know shit about these guys, too. Hell, Smith is banging one of his professors, Dahlia."

My mouth drops open and I stare at him in shock. What kind of professor would take that kind of risk with a student? Then I think about how easy it was for me to cross the line and I just drop my head onto his shoulder and say nothing. He talks softly to me. "Besides, if you wait a few hours to go home and someone sees you coming from the athlete dorms, anyone who knows you will assume you were just here for academic stuff. Who would ever suspect Dahlia Wardzinksi, math nerd, was here sucking cock?"

I punch him in the chest, pretending to be insulted, but I know he's right. That's what makes all of this so confusing for me. I am a math nerd. I carefully calculate every aspect of my life, from my study schedule to my finances. I never, ever do things like this. Linda made fun of me the last time I slept with a guy because I put it on my planner a few weeks in advance: Find guy for sex to relieve mid-term stress.

"Your coach is still a risk, though," I say, putting my hand on his thigh and sighing again because I love the feel of his leg muscles under my skin. "He might hear one of them talk about stepping on my jeans on the floor in your living room." I pull away again and look around to see if maybe my underwear made it into the room at least. I'm horrified at the thought of his roommates tripping on my panties.

I am desperate to use the bathroom and scared to walk into the hall alone. Neal sighs and throws on a pair of boxer briefs, following me into the hall as I walk to the bathroom. When I come out he's standing in the kitchen making an entire dozen scrambled eggs and I see practically half a loaf of bread in the toaster oven.

He smiles and slides me a plate of food and just as I sit at the counter to eat, one of the bedroom doors opens. I freeze over my food and my skin flushes as red as my shirt when I see Tyler walking down the hall, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Sweeney, you making breakfast? I thought I smelled toast." He notices me then and stops for a minute. He raises his eyebrows, looks from Neal back to me, and says, "Pass the ketchup, Dahlia."

Then it's like nothing unusual has happened at all. As if it were perfectly normal for me to be sitting wearing Neal's shorts at Tyler's kitchen counter eating eggs while my panties and jeans are scattered all over the floor. Neal starts telling Tyler and me how disgusting we both are for befouling our eggs with ketchup, and Tyler calls him a stuck-up, New England prick. I can't help but laugh at the easy connection they share.

Their banter makes me remember Linda, and I spring up from the counter to search the puddle of jeans on the floor for my phone. I breathe a deep sigh of relief when I see a text from her from way earlier last night. Going home with Tim. Sorry to ditch u on Frat Row. Let Jeremy walk u home safe?

I wonder how late she'll sleep in on the floor above us and I start to hurry, choking down the rest of my food. "I have to get home," I say as I stoop to grab my stuff. I just can't handle wearing gym shorts with my ballet flats, so I duck into Neal's room again to change back into my pants. I tell myself that jeans and a t-shirt aren't at all obvious for a walk of shame. I open the door to dash down the hall and crash into Neal as he slips into the bedroom.

"Hey," he says. "Don't go."

"I have to get back before Linda comes home," I say, trying to get past him. "Neal, please. I have to get out of here."

He rubs my arm and kisses my forehead again. I'm so confused by what is happening, but don't feel brave enough to ask him if this is really anything more meaningful to him than sex. I mean, his behavior right now is more like I would expect from a boyfriend than a casual hookup. But I don't do boyfriends and he