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She knows I’m struggling with this assignment from my father.

GoalieGod: Can staring at a blank screen for too long cause blindness?

Nadia: I’m grabbing some food before work. Need anything?

GoalieGod: Just ten minutes with you.

Nadia: I can probably accommodate that.

GoalieGod: And maybe a taco from the food truck?

I followup with a text about being in the student center, room 110 and about fifteen minutes later I hear a tap on the door. It’s locked from the outside, only accessible with a code, and when I open it, she’s standing outside with a bag full of tacos and a smile.

“You found me,” I say, taking the bag in one hand and pulling her in with the other.

“This is the athletic study room?” She looks around at the set up. It’s nice. I won’t deny it. New computers, comfortable desks. A couch and big screen. “I always knew you guys were spoiled, but this kind of takes the cake.”

“Spoiled seems like overkill.”

“Babe, the rest of us have to sign up to use the new technology, have to fight for comfortable seating, and if we’re lucky the guy next to us isn’t coughing and sneezing the whole time. Spoiled is the perfect word to describe this set up.”

“Fine,” I say, dropping the greasy bag on the table next to my notes, “we’re spoiled.”

Leaning on the edge of the table, I grab her hips and pull her into the hollow between my legs. “I missed you.”

“It’s been four hours.”

“Yeah, tell my cock that,” I say, pushing my hips into her playfully. “He’s been thinking about you all day.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Her hand runs up my chest and curls around my neck, where her fingers prod into my skin. “And super tense.”

I tilt my neck, letting her fingers explore. “It’s this stupid sermon. It’s always a nightmare, but this year it seems worse.”

“I thought you already had some written?”

“I did, but then I ditched everything I showed my dad at Thanksgiving. It just didn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

My instinct is to shrug off her question, but Nadia’s looking at me with genuine interest and concern and for once I want to tell someone–tell her. “It’s hard to explain,” I start, taking her hand and threading her fingers in mine. “Even to myself, really. I’ve always played by my father’s rules: living my life up here at Wittmore, while fulfilling any obligations he has for me back home. But something’s different now. Maybe it’s the fact I’m graduating soon and I know I’ll be sucked into that life forever. Or maybe it’s the promise ring Shelby accepted at Thanksgiving, locking her into something when she’s too young to make the decision.” I shake my head, hating that her life is mapped out even more than mine. “Everything used to feel so far away, but now… it seems too close.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

I laugh. “There’s no talking to the Reverend about anything. This isn’t just a plan, T, in his mind this is destiny. My whole life, even him allowing hockey and tattoos, fuck,” I run my hand through my hair, “probably even the women, is all about me coming ultimately home standing next to him.”

Nadia looks away. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

Sliding my fingers under her chin, I force her gaze back at me. “It’s even worse now because we’re just getting started and I sure as fuck don’t want to let you go.”

I kiss her, wanting to feel the warm heat of her lips on mine, loving the way she opens up for me. Her hands dip under my shirt, fingers cool against my hot skin. “Your hands are so soft,” I tell her, licking my way into her mouth. She responds, by spreading her fingers across my abdomen, toying with the trail of hair, leading under my waistband. I hum at her touch, stomach caving, while my cock tries to drill it’s way through the denim of my jeans. I pull back, sucking in a gasp of air and press my forehead against hers. “I asked you here for tacos, not a makeout-shesh.”

“Making out is good for releasing stress,” she says, thumb releasing the button on my jeans. I feel her hand push under the waistband, beneath the cotton of my boxers, and she wraps her hand around my erection. “And don’t tell me you’re not horny.”

“I’m always horny for you.” She jacks me up and down, making a shudder run down my spine. I fall back in my seat and look up at her. “Jesus, girl, trying to kill me?”

She grins. “I just want to make you feel good.”

“You always make me feel good.” I’m brain addled, horny as fuck, and reach for her to drag her into my lap. Instead, she drops to her knees. Yeah, that snaps me back. “Nad, come on, get back up.”