I hate how insecure she makes me feel. I never have trouble with women but she makes me feel like that lanky freshman trying to get a girl’s attention. When I’m talking to her all my smoothness leaves my brain. I have to keep reminding myself to be witty and flirty but also constrain my urge to wrap her in my arms and tell her she’s mine.
Sitting on my bed, my legs bouncing up and down, I stare at my phone waiting for her reply, the three dots signaling she’s typing blink for what seems like ever increasing my anxiety.
Laughing at her Albuquerque reply, I love how we are more alike than I thought. Fist pumping in the air like Bender at the end of The Breakfast Club happy she is still willing to meet me when Old Man Winter is kicking our ass.
I’ve never been one to fret over a woman. Either they’re into me or they aren’t. Most of the time, they are. This woman, this girl, has me tied up in knots. I’m in foreign territory here. My body wants, my dick is always on high alert when she’s near but my brain is flashing her age like red and blue lights shining in your rear-view mirror. My dick hasn’t gotten the memo that because she doesn’t act like a teenager she is, indeed, still under eighteen.
My first priority is getting to know everything about her. My second is finding out when she turns eighteen, even though I’m only two years older than her I still would like to wait until it is officially legal for me to ravage her body. What I would like to do and what I may actually do are sitting in different hemispheres right now.
Packing up my duffle, I prepare for the worst. Bottles of water, a blanket, some protein bars and a flashlight in case we get stuck in the gym. I’m certain we’ll be able to still get around campus. My dorm is closer to the gym than hers, worst case scenario we would stay here for the night.
Blue balls, a party of one.
Can I spend the night with her and not touch all her flesh? Hopefully, we don’t have to put my restraint to the test. I’m not sure it’s a test I could pass but one I would very much enjoy failing.
There are two fitness areas on campus, one is in the student gymnasium with a basketball court and various rooms for yoga, gymnastics, and indoor track activities. The other is by the athletic dorms.
The campus has dorms strictly for JSU athletes to live in, two dorms for guys, two dorms for the ladies. In between the four buildings is a small fitness area exclusively accessible to all athletes, we are given a key card when we move in.
I schedule my workouts early in the morning and late at night so I have the space to myself. I spend most of my days dragging ass but at least I don’t have to deal with people like Chase Masters during my work out. Grabbing my bag, I trek my way through the snow to the fitness center. The snow is coming down hard, we already have at least a foot on the ground making the door to the center hard to pull open.
Getting inside, I connect my phone to the Bluetooth sound system, loading a playlist I think Ten would like but also keeps my blood pumping. The sound of 80’s rock, Back in Black, rumbles out of the speakers. I hope she likes 80’s music.
Slipping off my pants to my shorts underneath and throwing my shirt over one of the bench press bars, I stretch my arms and legs. Checking the time, I notice she’s ten minutes late. Maybe she changed her mind, I think sadly. Grabbing my phone to message her one last time, I feel the cold air of the door opening.
She’s here.
Chapter Nine
I’m not fat, I’m harder to kidnap.
—bumper sticker
Tensanne
“WHAT SHOULD I wear Ronnie?” I asked staring into my bland closet. I don’t own anything that doesn’t have ugly flowers or cartoon characters on it. Fat people clothes suck. Why do designers think we want to wear Eeyore or loud flower patterns? It’s not bad enough we’re large and draw attention anyway, let’s add unflattering patterns to the mix.
“Just be you, Ten. Why are you fretting? Wear what you have on, your yoga pants and sweatshirt. If he has a genuine interest, he won’t care what you’re wearing.”
Noticing the time, “Shit, I’m going to be late,” I say grabbing my phone and rushing out the door as she yells, “Be careful and let me know when you get there.”
Good god, there’s a lot of snow out here, I think forcing my feet through the thick snow. My legs freezing where the snow is coming over the top of my boots, the snow falling inside. My insides match the raging storm outside, a flurry of nerves eating at my stomach. Finally arriving at the JSU Athlete’s Fitness Center, I’m frozen to the bone with my teeth chattering and my fingers numb inside my gloves.
Pulling with all my strength I drag the door open through the snow drift that has built in front of it, the sounds of AC/DC greets me along with a smiling, shirtless Kohl Black.
My mouth goes dry, my tongue coming out to wet my cold, wind burned lips.
He’s glorious.
My eyes zone in right above his shorts at his ‘man dents’, as I like to call them, those little hip dips that develop after hours of abdominal work making my tongue rub the back of my teeth wanting to know how they would feel under it.
My eyes work their way up a dark thin trail of black hair that cuts right through his defined six-pack to small light brown nipples surrounded by the perfect amount of chest hair. Traveling over strong bubbled pecks, up and over broad shoulders down bulging, vein popping
