Closing my eyes and with slow even breaths, I rotated my hips. In return, his dick seemed to get harder. He let out a soft moan in his sleep.
Holy shit.
I bit my lip as I had a flashback of the fantasy from earlier. The vision of Jay between my legs replayed in my mind. But the way his dick was prominently pressing against my ass, the fantasy evolved into him on top of me. I imagined how it would feel for him to kiss me, touch me, fuck me.
“Mmm…”
The moment I started thinking about him inside me, I let a muffled moan slip out. I squeezed my legs together, applying pressure where my clit throbbed. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to stop an impending orgasm or bring it on.
His hand twitched as if he heard me and I froze. My heart raced and my senses returned. Heat from sexual desire and shame flooded my system and I felt warm all over. It was when my right mind returned, I realized what was happening. Not only was I sexually attracted to my best friend, I was actively grinding on him.
After almost a minute of holding my breath, I was convinced Jay was still sleeping. I let out a sigh of relief and my heartrate returned to normal. I was so confused and conflicted. Jay was my best friend. Not only that, Carter and I hadn’t been friends for a while, but she took me in when I’d needed a place to stay. We said nothing would ever happen between us. I know I specifically told her that we wouldn’t cross that line.
Fantasies don’t count, right?
It had been a crazy week and I tried to dismiss what was happening as just my way of dealing with drama, trauma, and tragedy.
But what if it isn’t? And how do I make it stop? I wondered before drifting back to sleep.
A couple hours later, I woke up to the smell of bacon. Rubbing my eyes, I sat on the side of the bed.
He got up and cooked? Okay!
I grabbed my phone and noticed I had a total of five missed calls from the same number. I didn’t recognize the number and they didn’t leave a message, so I didn’t return the call.
It’s probably someone calling for the person who had this number before me, I thought, brushing it off as I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
“It smells so good in here,” I announced as I entered the kitchen. I looked around and then put my hands on my hips. “Is this the kind of action I can expect every Saturday morning?”
Jay stopped chewing and looked up at me. “Hell no.”
I laughed as I washed my hands. “Well, I don’t know what the special occasion is, but I am thankful.”
“I’m about to go to the gym and I can’t ball on an empty stomach. And I’m doing a lab this afternoon.”
“A lab? Today?”
“Yeah, the one I missed on Tuesday. She said I could make it up today.”
I frowned. “Oh! Yikes.”
“Yeah.” He bit into his last piece of bacon. “But it’s better that I can do it today. The alternative was Monday morning.”
I nodded, sitting down at the table with him. “Oh yeah, Saturday afternoon is way better than Monday morning.”
“What are you doing about your paper?”
“I emailed it,” I told him. “But I’m going to see if I can stop by Financial Aid before they close at two.”
He nodded as he immediately stood up. “Good idea. Okay, I’m going to catch you later.” He didn’t waste any time grabbing his stuff and leaving.
A little part of me wondered if it was because of our late-night admissions or if it was because he knew how horny he made me during our morning cuddle. Either way, the way he ran out of the apartment wasn’t normal.
I shook my head. I can’t worry about it right now. I have things to do.
I did some laundry, took a shower, and then ran to the Office of Financial Aid. I slipped through the door just before two o’clock and the man at the front desk was not pleased.
“One moment please,” he sighed heavily. Picking up the phone, he complained in a whisper as he stared me down. He pointed down the hall. “Mr. Sharron will see you now.”
I entered Mr. Sharron’s office with my fingers cross. “Hi, how are you?” I greeted him.
“How can I help you?”
“My name is Brooklyn Cage and I am having an issue with my housing.”
He glanced at his watch. “Well, I can’t have a student with housing issues.” Heaving a sigh, he gestured to the chair in front of him. “Have a seat. What’s your student identification number?”
I watched him type my information into the computer. But I became concerned when I saw his furrowed brow and pronounced frown.
“Your scholarship…” He tilted his head to the side. “Your history shows that a sports scholarship has covered your courses and room and board. Did something change?”
“The dance team merged with the cheerleading squad. I spoke to the coach beforehand and I was told everything was fine. But my housing assignment never came even though my classes have been covered,” I explained. “But since nothing has changed, I don’t know why it isn’t covered.”
“There’s someone who specifically handles aid for athletes. They’ll be in on Monday.” He handed me a business card. “Call to set up an appointment. Where are you living now? There’s a house allotted for cheerleaders over on—?”
“No,” I said a little too quickly. “No, I tried living there and it didn’t work out.”
He gave me a look. “There’s nothing more I can
