Page 35

H OW SOON IS too soon to text someone after a hookup?

I’d say I’m well versed in post-hookup etiquette, but when it comes to Summer Preston all my experience out the window.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t expecting a text from her the morning after she left—snuck out in the dead of night—to tell me she had fun or to schedule another romp in the sheets. That’s usually how morning afters work for me. But of course, this girl is going to be different.

Last night in itself was different. It was the best sex of my life, and I don’t really know how to move on after knowing that. With itching impatience, I pull out my phone and text her.

Summer

Aiden : Get home safe?

It’s a cowardly move, but I’m not confident I’d get a reply if I texted her anything else.

I’m not sure if caring about her safety will get me one either, but it’s worth a try.

I’m banking on her feeling bad about disappearing.

The last thing I expected in the morning was seeing the right side of my bed empty, especially since it still smelled like her. Since I still smelled like her.

Summer : If I didn’t there would be cops at your place right now.

Aiden : You think I’d be a suspect? I guess yesterday's noise complaints wouldn’t help my case.

Summer : I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Aiden : Maybe I can remind you. When are you free?

The grin on my face is embarrassing, but the memories replaying in my head definitely aren’t.

Checking my phone three times a minute doesn’t seem to garner a reply, so I put it away.

The desperation to touch her or hear her voice is debilitating.

Not ideal because I have a meeting with Kilner today.

Our first-line defense has been slacking, so Kilner wants to pull someone up. As captain, I’ve been given the responsibility of compiling names, despite the guys being pissed about the sudden change.

Downstairs, I see Kian slip on his shoes. “Where are you going?” I ask.

“You’re kidding. Even my professors know about tonight.”

Seeing his outfit, I recall, “Your date with Cassie.”

It took Kian three days to choose an outfit. Summer helped because apparently, she forgave him. Which is annoying as hell because she’s never forgiven me that easily.

Kian fixes his tie and nervously heads to his car. I do the same, except my night is going to be spent with an angry Coach Kilner, who won’t be happy that I can’t help but zone out every few minutes.

P EACH-SCENTED SILK slips through my fingers. “You have amazing hair.”

Two days after my first message, Summer finally texted me her schedule.

Two whole days. It was absolute torture.

But we managed to carve out a few afternoons and the rare morning.

She’s firm on her no sleepover rule because it treads too close to the relationship category.

I don’t care as long as I get to see her.

“You can thank my mom for that. She used to oil my hair growing up and now I’m addicted.”

“Oil?” I ask curiously. This is my favorite part. When we talked about anything and everything, things I'd never get to know about her otherwise.

“You’ve never had oil massaged into your scalp?” she asks, eyes wide with surprise.

I shake my head. “Can’t say I have.”

“You’re missing out. It used to be my favorite thing.” She lies back, and I run my hand over the smooth skin of her arm.

“You don’t do it anymore?”

She lets out a nostalgic breath. “I do, but having someone else do it is a whole other feeling.”

“I can do it for you.”

It’s the silence before she bursts into laughter that has me furrowing my brows. She catches her breath, losing it again when she tries to talk. “You did not just say that.”

I frown. “What?”

She laughs again, bewildered as she stares at my blank expression. “ I’ll do it for you ? No guy just offers to oil hair. I’ve literally never heard that before.”

Is that a weird thing to say? Fuck, maybe I should google serial killer tendencies again. “Well, you said it’s your favorite thing. If it makes you happy I’d do it.”

All the residual humor dissipates, and her eyes lock with mine. All my senses focus on her.

Then her gaze drops, snapping the tight string between us. “That’s a bit much for fuck buddies.”

Her words are a grimy knife to the gut. But before she can say something else that digs a hole out of my chest, I lean in and kiss her.

“Ow.” Summer rears back, breaking our kiss.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your beard,” she mutters, rubbing her chin. “It’s scratching me.”

My growing playoff beard is at that awkward length that leaves the friction burning Summer’s skin whenever I kiss her. She hasn't said much about it, but I can tell she’s not its biggest fan.

“You weren’t complaining when it was scratching the inside of your thighs.”

She rolls her eyes, and when I go in for another kiss, she stops me. “I have homework.”

“You kicking me out, Preston?” I settle for a kiss on her cheek. Trying to spend an extra second with her is nearly impossible lately. She was with Donny this morning, so I expected her to be a little distant. It’s become obvious she feels guilty about what we’re doing.

Summer steals my hoodie from the end of the bed. I have a T-shirt, so I don’t care if she takes it, it looks better on her anyway.

“Yes.” She tries escaping my hold, but I pull her back to stand between my legs.

“I’m starting to feel used.”

She raises a brow. “Try being bent in ten different positions.”

“Come to my game tonight.” Summer makes a face and I sigh. “Give me one good reason why you won’t.” I have never invited a girl to a game, but having Summer sitting rink side feels right.

“One: I don’t like hockey. Two: I’m not sitting in the stands wearing your jersey to fulfill your weird fantasy.”

A sliver of humor rises up my throat. “One: You like me . Two: I think Crystal wears my jersey anyway.”

“What?”

I examine her incredulity with delight. “The guys noticed she’s been wearing it ever since the carnival.”

The look is replaced with indifference. “When you hooked up with her.”

I glower. “ No . Nothing happened. She’s just trying to get my attention now.”

“Does she have it?”

“What?”

“Your attention. Does she have it?”

The question catches me off guard. I didn’t think she even cared where my attention was. Is she jealous? “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a bit preoccupied.” I pull her in for a kiss that she finally reciprocates. “So, are you coming or not?”

“Not.” She releases herself from my hold and heads to the bathroom. “I have work to do.”

I follow her to block the door. “You’re mad.”

“I’m not.”

“Fine, then you’re jealous.”

I must be enjoying her reaction too much because she glares. “You wish.”

“Then why is this here, hmm?” I press a finger to the crease between her eyebrows. “Contrary to what you believe, I know you, Summer.”

“You know my body, Crawford. You don’t know my mind.”

“I bet I can figure it out just as quickly.” She tries to close the door again, but I don’t let her. “I don’t even get to shower with you?”

“I’m taking a quick one.”

“Me too, just a quickie.” That splinters her annoyed glare. “Don’t you at least want to wish me luck before my game?”

“We both know you don’t need luck.”

“Yeah, but I do need this.” I reach around to grab her ass, and she yelps before melting into my arms. Walking backwards into the washroom, I kick the door closed.

T UESDAY’S ARE MY favorite. Why? Because Summer has no classes and I’m free after my coaching session. Another plus is not worrying about the guys throwing parties because we have practice on Wednesdays, and hangovers don’t mix well with Kilner’s voice.

Walking into Summer’s dorm, I drop my bag by the couch. “Those little tyrants know how to wear me down.”

“Don’t complain. You love it,” she says when I crash beside her with a groan. “Admit it. You do.”

I shrug, but I can’t suppress my smile. “Yeah, I do. They’re pretty amazing. I get to see their passion, and it reminds me how much went into getting me where I am today.”

Admiration flits through her eyes but then her face scrunches. “God, I bet all your kids are going to be hockey buffs.”

“Definitely. They’ll learn to skate before learning to walk.”

“Sounds torturous. What if they want to play soccer or…basketball?” She adds the latter suggestion purposely, but her smile is so pretty I have a hard time focusing on anything else.

“I’ll support them no matter what.” I wasn’t pressured into sports, so putting an ultimatum on a kid never made sense to me. People are naturally drawn to their talents, but to get to the top it takes hard work, and that doesn’t come from force.

“How magnanimous of you.”

“What can I say? Our kids will be lucky to have me as a dad.” The words spill like water, and I freeze.

The awkward air hovers for only a second before she laughs. “You’re crazy if you think I’d ever carry your big-headed children. Your wife better have a wide birthing canal.”

That eases the tension drilling my chest. “I’ll add it to my list. A wide birthing canal for large-headed children.”

“Don’t forget, willing to suffer through your idiocy.”

“Is that what you do? Suffer?”

She nods, not paying me her full attention until I lean over to move her laptop. She doesn’t protest when I wrap my hand around her ankle and tug her to me, homework abandoned. Contentment skips my bones because Summer never abandons her books, but right now her only focus is me.

She smells so good I dip my head to kiss her neck, burying my nose in her sweet smell. “Is this considered suffering?”

She sits on my growing erection. “Yes,” she breathes. “Complete torture.”