“Really?” she asks. “That’s fantastic. I look forward to getting to know you. Any friend of Christian’s…” She gives a laugh. “Although I must warn you. The dean is kind of a tyrant. I’m not sure I’m going to do well at the interviews. We might not be classmates at all.”
“He’s a tyrant?” Maize’s eyes go wide, a little frightened.
“Maize, this is Cynthia Saunders, Dean Saunders’s daughter. She’s kidding. Sort of.”
“Oh,” she says with a laugh, as she playfully taps her head. “I get it. A little slow. Sorry.”
“Not slow at all. It’s been a long day,” I say to Cynthia. “We just got in, actually.”
“I’m not going to keep you, then.” Her brow arches hopefully. “You need to get all the nourishment you can for the slopes tomorrow. Can’t wait to race you down, Christian—and win of course.” She gives Maize a wink. “He’s yet to beat me.”
“That’s because you cheat,” I say as I lean in to give her another hug. “I don’t know how you cheat, but you do.”
“Such a frail male ego,” she says with a laugh. She lowers her voice and whispers into my ear. “I like her, Christian.” We break the hug, and she turns to Maize. “See you guys later. Enjoy dinner.” She walks off and I smile as I sit back down, remembering all our fond times together.
“She’s really pretty,” Maize says.
“Yeah, I guess,” I say. I think of Cynthia as a sister. We spent a lot of time here together as kids and teens.
“Did you two ever…” She holds out an index finger and circles it.
I mimic her actions. “Did we ever circle our finger at each other?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s getting at.
She whacks my hand away. “You know what I mean.”
“No. We’re just friends.” I take in the tightening of Maize’s lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”
She gives a fast shake of her head. “I’m not, not at all. I was just curious.”
“She’s a childhood friend,” I explain again, and lift my beer to salute her before taking a long pull.
She looks at me thoughtfully. “So how does an NFL draft work?” she asks, changing the subject. We order our food, and I spend the next half hour talking about the draft and how it works, and that I’m a draft prospect, and chances of getting picked up are pretty good. She listens intently as our meal comes and we eat, and I know she’s not faking interest because she nods and asks questions at all the right times. I finally set my fork down.
“I’ve been hogging the entire conversation,” I say with a laugh.
“I like hearing about your future.” She wipes her mouth and sets her napkin down on the table. “You said you wanted to be a teacher someday, after your NFL career. Do you think you’ll settle in California?”
“You know, I’m close to my grandmother, but living in California isn’t a must. I can live and teach anywhere. What about you? Where do you want to practice?”
She laughs. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. All I can think about right now is getting into Harvard.”
The server comes back with dessert menus, and we decide to get a big piece of chocolate cake to take back to our room, and I’m glad. I want to get behind closed doors and relax with Maize, no interruptions.
After our cake arrives, we make our way back to the room, and I shut and lock the world out behind us. The place is smoking hot, and I’m beginning to rethink my brilliant plan of leaving the fire on.
“Ohmigod, Christian, it’s a million degrees in here,” Maize says and swipes at her forehead.
I crack the patio door to let the heat out, and when I turn back, Maize is stripping her clothes off, and in that instant, I decide leaving the fire on was the absolute right decision.
She plays coy and glances at me over her shoulder. “Are you going to stand there and gawk, or are you going to help me check sex in front of the fire off my bucket list?”
“Like you even have to ask.”
I rip my shirt off and make my way to her, my heart beating faster than it should, because no matter how hard I try, how much I know I have to, I’m not sure I can let her walk out of my life. She turns, drops to her knees, and pops the button on my pants. Her hands capture my cock, and I groan as her sweet lips wrap around me. That’s when I realize just how fucked I really am.
In so many ways.
18
Maize
“This is only the best chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten,” I moan before I shove another forkful into my mouth.
Christian laughs, and glances at the clock. “Cake always tastes great at eight in the morning.”
“Hey don’t judge me.” I point my fork at him as I cross the room, and sit on the coffee table across from him as he sips his coffee. “We’re on vacation, and what we eat, and when we eat, doesn’t matter.” I cut into the cake and hold it out for him. He takes the bite and moans. “Also,” I add. “Calories don’t count on vacation either.”
“You might be right. That is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Or maybe the second.” He grins and points between my legs. “Or third.” He points to my right breast. “Or fourth.” He points to my left breast. Laughing he adds, “I guess you get my drift. It’s the best thing I’ve put in my mouth, after you.”
I laugh and he hands me his coffee. I take a sip to wash down the cake. It’s weird, sharing food and drinks like this. Deeply intimate. I
