Page 27

CHAPTER 27

NATE

Lately, River is all I think about. He’s on my mind day and night, thoughts of him playing repeatedly in my head like a highlight reel.

River.

River.

River.

My best friend has invaded my brain like an alien taking over a planet. It’s hard not to think about him when I see him in class or at practice. Plus, we live on top of each other. It would be easy to ignore these nagging feelings if he weren’t right next door.

But I can’t.

I must keep my idle hands occupied, so I whip out the journal River bought at the campus bookstore. We met between classes, but instead of shooting the shit, he stuffed the book into my hand.

“Get your fucking shit together,” he said and walked away.

I didn’t follow.

No point.

River’s pissed about me using him this morning and rightfully so. I deserve the silent treatment or whatever punishment is coming my way.

Propped up against a maple tree in the quad, I rest the journal on my knees and start writing every dirty thought I had today.

I woke up with a boner and accidentally touched River’s dick. I liked it. I liked it a whole fucking lot. His dick is big like mine but slightly girthier.

Fuck, why do I like his dick so much? I’m not gay. This is all so confusing.

We fought about me wanting to have sex. To stop me from doing something stupid, he climbed on top of me… and then we made each other come.

I loved it.

Every second.

I don’t understand why.

Are my feelings specific to River? Is the bond Dr. Swanson mentioned making me do things out of my comfort zone?

I didn’t hate River on top of me. I also didn’t mind him kissing my neck as we both came.

What does that say about me? Is this my addiction talking?

Since this morning, River has barely spoken to me. I crossed the line.

How do I fix us?

Later that morning, I stared at Professor Walcott’s ass for most of the class. It’s firm, round, and just right. I thought about sinking my teeth into her flesh and wondered how her pussy would taste.

She caught me looking at her.

I winked.

She scowled.

She’s around forty and has a good body for her age… but not a great face.

I would fuck her.

From behind.

Arms tied behind her back.

Yes, I like this idea.

At lunch, I sat in the cafeteria with a few of my teammates and scouted my next fuck. River is sick of Samantha.

We need a replacement. So, I scanned the cafeteria, stuffing a grilled chicken sandwich into my mouth and looking for another girl to take her place. But then, Samantha found me. Of course, she did. She knows my schedule by heart.

We fought about me not calling her back for days. I told her we were over and to get lost. I could have been nicer, but she wouldn’t stop yelling and was pissing me off.

“Nate,” a deep voice says, returning me to reality.

Before I look up, I know it’s River. I would know that voice anywhere.

I drop the pen into the book’s fold and close it. “Still mad at me?”

River sits on the grass beside me and tosses his backpack between us. “No. I can’t stay mad at you. I tried, though.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. You barely spoke to me all day.”

He glances at the journal. “Did you write in it?”

I nod. “Just finished with my morning and afternoon. Who knows what the rest of the day will bring?”

I laugh, but he doesn’t.

“Can I see it?”

Tightening my grip on the book, I sink against the tree. “It’s not finished yet.”

“Are you embarrassed by what I’ll think?”

I shake my head.

River wets his lips with his tongue, and the simple motion goes straight to my cock. More confusion settles into my mind, clouding my judgment. Maybe River and I are too close. This must be our intimate bond fucking with my head.

River extends his hand. “Let me read it.”

“Why?”

“I need to understand what’s going through your head. This is hard for me, too. And confusing. I want to help you and to do that… I need to know.”

Holding the journal to my chest, I bite my lip, searching for a way out. But I don’t see one.

“What we did this morning,” I say in a hushed tone. “It’s messing with me.”

“Me too.”

I place the book in his hand, my heart pumping rapidly. “Promise not to hate me.”

“I could never.” He flips to the first page, eyes on me. “You’re my best friend, Nate. I will always be here for you.”

“Will you, though? You’re leaving me after graduation.”

“Nate,” he whispers, closing the book. “Is this why you’re acting out so much?”

I bob my head. “I’m scared.”

Eyes downcast, he picks at the grass and sighs. “You can’t ask me to give up my dream to keep you from making mistakes.”

“I’m not,” I fire back. “I just…”

He lifts his head, and dark hair falls before his green eyes. “What?”

“I don’t know.” I wave my hand. “Forget it.”

A beat passes, the tension in the air making my skin tingle. I instantly regret writing all of my feelings about River on the page.

What a stupid fucking exercise!

I wish the doctor hadn’t suggested it.

River clutches the book and sighs. “Do you have feelings for me?”

To avoid River’s question, I tip my head at the journal. Saying the words aloud feels too raw. Too real. He can figure it out for himself.

River reads the entries several times before his eyes meet mine. His chest rises and falls faster as if struggling to catch his breath. Is he having a fucking panic attack?

An alarm on his cell phone dings. He turns it off and tosses the book at my chest, rising from the grass and slinging the backpack over his shoulder. “Gotta go. I have another class.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, deflated, hoping I haven’t ruined our friendship.

* * *

I can’t sit still during Criminology and tap my foot repeatedly on the floor. The raven-haired girl two chairs over whips her curly head, giving me a look that could turn a man to stone. Medusa tips her head at my shaky leg, and I narrow my eyes at her.

Yeah, I get it.

I’m annoying.

I would have bailed if I didn’t need the credit for this class. Letting River read my journal without him saying a word is fucking with my head. I should have answered his question.

Do you have feelings for me?

For the past hour, his words have rolled around in my head like a ping-pong ball. I honestly don’t know. Sure, I love River. He’s my best friend and rates higher on my list than family.

Do I have romantic feelings for him?

Maybe.

I pluck the journal from my backpack to distract my lingering thoughts and start writing. It’s surprisingly cathartic unleashing my inner demons on the page.

I can’t stop thinking about River. He left me in the quad, feeling like I was holding my limp dick. Everything has changed between us. Our dynamic is off, and he’s becoming distant.

I can’t lose him.

So, I sit in class, plotting my next video. He never comments on which one he likes. Never even acknowledges he got the text, leaving all of them on read. But when I lean against my bedroom wall and listen to him jerk off, he grunts the loudest at the ones I wear only my jersey.

I usually sit on a chair, completely naked except for the jersey, legs spread wide so he can see all of me. With my right hand, I touch my cock, just enough to tease him, rolling the pre-cum over my tip.

Then, I inch up my jersey, the pads of my fingers brushing my abs. I continue my slow exploration until he can see my nipples. And since he loves it when chicks touch his, I flick my finger over mine, one after the other.

Sometimes, I lick the pre-cum from my finger, eyes on the camera. A few times, I even swiped at my stomach after I finished and let him see me taste myself.

I wonder if he mimics my movements. Does he imagine I’m doing the same to his cock?

I enjoy his moans.

I want to watch him in action, but I feel weird asking. The videos I make in private are for his eyes alone, and so is his enjoyment. Yet, I can’t stop wondering how he looks while watching me on the screen.

Does he spread his legs and lean back on his mattress, clutching the phone? Or does he sit in his computer chair and watch me on a bigger screen?

I’m dying to know.

Fuck.

Maybe tonight I’ll be more adventurous. Slip a finger into my tight hole and see how it feels. I bet River would like that. The man he watches on OnlyFans fucks his fingers, dildos, and other men’s dicks. I’m not ready to go to the extreme without the proper motivation.

But I can try it.

For River.

I drop the pen into the book’s fold, my cock harder than steel and too fucking horny to sit another second in this classroom. So, I scoop my laptop and books into the backpack, using the bag to shield my boner as I stand.

Medusa glares at me.

To be a dick, I blow her a kiss.

She scoffs, flicking her curls over her shoulder and acting like she can’t stand me. But I catch her eyes roaming my body, spending a few extra seconds to admire my ass.

Take a good look .

I slap a hand on my right cheek and smirk. She scowls.

The professor looks up as I inch across the row. I nod and hop over students’ legs to get the fuck out of here. I’m not my usual slick self, stumbling and bumping into people. With this massive erection poking a hole in my pants, aching and leaking, begging to be free, I can’t even walk straight.

If Medusa saw the bulge in my pants, she would probably call the damn police. Uptight brat. I flash her a final wink, which earns me another sneer.

I exit the classroom, awkwardly pressing the bag to my front, and stagger into the crowded hallway. My law classes are in Mathis Hall, located on the other side of campus from my house. At all times of the day, this building is bustling with annoyingly loud co-eds.

Darting to the left, I shove through the mass of bodies until I’m outside and breathing in the salty air. Beacon Bay is the small town’s name and the body of water spanning the coastline.

Kingston University separates the uber-wealthy from the poor. However, only people from the north side of Beacon Bay can afford the hefty tuition.

Crossing the quad, I spot Samantha sitting under a tree with two brunettes. They’re cute but not hot like her.

Fuck, I miss her pussy.

Not her, though.

Our last few texts were pretty toxic, even by my standards. Maybe I should have been nicer. I could have handled things differently. Samantha thought we had a future, yet I’d told her every time we fucked that it was nothing more than sex.

I veer off the path and make a beeline down a side street. People wave and flag me down. One guy invites me to a frat party this weekend. Girls bat their lashes and flash pretty smiles.

Fuck, I miss women.

Or do I just miss sex?

I notice their short skirts and sexy thighs. Yoga pants and skinny jeans. Tight tops and low-cut shirts showing cleavage. Anything that molds to their bodies draws my attention.

I don’t discriminate.

But then River’s naked body enters my mind. All thoughts of these women disappear in a blink.

This is unhealthy.

I can’t like my best friend.

Even if I wanted to be gay for a night, our friendship would not survive it. I don’t know how to explore my sexuality with anyone but River. He’s the only person I trust. And he’s already interested in me.

Could I fuck him?

No.

Maybe.

Yes.

Fuck, I’m screwed .