Matt almost moaned when he dug into his own food. Chris had become a tyrant about diet now that he was going to the NFL Combines. Matt had never seen his friend train harder, pushing himself to be faster, better, stronger than ever. He was in peak condition, and Matt felt like a slob next to him, so he did his best to keep up. It was hard, though, working full time and trying to fit in workouts and drills with his friend. He couldn’t do it as much as he’d like, and he felt like they were drifting apart more and more. Between his job, Chris’s rigorous training schedule, plus finishing school and how much time he spent with Megan, Matt barely got to see him.
And he didn’t even want to get started on Lance and Abby. The traitor had moved out. Matt had barely seen either of them since he’d graduated in December. They’d had a little party to celebrate for him and exchange gifts, just the five of them, before they’d all gone their separate ways for Christmas. He’d felt more like an outsider than ever, even though he’d been the guest of honor, the only one not in a couple. The irony of the fact that he was single when he’d been the only one of the three of them to have a girlfriend before last summer was not lost on him.
Everyone was leaving him behind, moving on with their own lives, following their own dreams, and he sat home in this house that wasn’t really his, with a job that would pay the bills but wasn’t what he’d dreamed of as a teenager, when his walls were filled with surfing posters. He’d worked as a teenager so he could afford to play in the ocean, eventually managing to get a job at the local surf shop and teach lessons over the summer. But surfing for a living wasn’t feasible. Not for him. He didn’t have what it took to go pro, and he didn’t live in the right part of the world to open a shop or teach.
He hadn’t been surfing in too long. School and football kept him away from the ocean during the only season where surfing wasn’t dangerous in Washington and the waves were big enough to be worth riding. He made time for the summer waves when he went home, and it felt nice to be on a board again, but the baby waves combined with a bunch of beginners learning to surf taking over his favorite beach didn’t do enough to relieve the itch.
But he wasn’t alone now. He had Hannah. Thinking about surfing brought him back to her. Back to that summer, the last one where he’d had fun surfing, teaching Hannah how to ride his board and his cock. And with the way she reacted to him still, he kind of hoped she might steal more of his food. He’d love the chance to take her into his room and spank her round ass, turning it pink, feeling her get wetter from the sting. She’d liked it when he’d given her playful spanks that summer, though he hadn’t done anything like he was imagining now. No, his tastes had evolved a bit since then. Had hers evolved too?
He decided to test it out, and casually nudged the carton with his stir fry toward her. She looked at him, raising an eyebrow in question.
“Are you offering me your food?”
“Hmm?” He feigned innocence. “What? No. You know I don’t like sharing my food.”
She chuckled. “Good. Me either.”
Silence fell while they both ate, taking the edge off their hunger. Matt could feel Hannah’s eyes on him, and he looked up, raising an eyebrow in question.
She cleared her throat. “So, what’ve you been up to the last few years? Do you still surf?”
Her questions, so closely mimicking his earlier thoughts, had him pausing for a second before he nodded. “Some. Not as much as I’d like.”
“Yeah, I’d imagine it’s hard to get much time on the water over here. You told me summers in Westport were best for beginners. And in the fall you still had football this year, right?”
A sly smile came across his face. “Were you keeping tabs on me, Hannah?”
A blush stole over her cheeks, but she shook her head. “No. But it’s hard not to notice when your name is all over the sports pages and local news channels during the season.”
He smiled wider, not buying it. “Uh-huh. Sure. So you never told me why you decided to come to Marycliff.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she wadded up a napkin and tossed it at him. He caught it in his lap, laughing. “God, you’re full of yourself. I did tell you when you asked. I got a good scholarship and the marketing department here is as good as at UW with smaller class sizes.” She punched him in the shoulder when he wouldn’t stop laughing. “Shut up. I’m serious. That’s why.”
He caught her hand when she tried to punch him again, shaking his head. “I know. I seem to recall telling you it was a good school with good financial aid packages.” He raised his eyebrows again, needling her with his silent questions. He believed her stated reasons, but had she maybe come here for him after all?
She let out a sigh, deflating, and pulled her hand out of his grip. “Fine. If you must know, yes, I started looking at Marycliff
