Breakaway, p.9
Breakaway, page 9
Yet despite knowing that, I know something else, too: I’m about to ask Cooper to do it again.
Chapter 14
Cooper
“Thanks again for helping me with Izzy,” I say as we climb the stairs to Penny’s dorm room. “I still can’t believe she threw up on me.”
“It happens,” she says, looking at me over her shoulder. I’ve tried not to stare at her too much, but it’s hard with that dress she’s wearing. It clings to her ass deliciously, and the neckline, combined with her bra, is doing its best to remind me that when we hooked up, I didn’t even get to see her tits.
She clearly went to that party with fun on her mind, and I can’t stop stewing over it. She obviously didn’t know the guy she was with, and she made no effort to go after him when he ran away to blow chunks in private. There’s something up with her, and maybe it’s not my business, but I’m curious anyway.
At the right landing, she leads the way to the room at the end of the hallway. This is one of the older dorms, so she pulls out an actual key to unlock the door. When we parked in front of the dorm and sat for half a second in awkwardness, I nearly stopped myself from offering to walk her to her door, but I couldn’t quite manage it. Now we’re here, and weirdly, I’d rather be standing in this hallway with her than back at the party with any number of girls, and that odd ache in my chest still won’t kick the bucket.
She blushes as she opens the door. “Do you . . . want to come in for a few?”
“Only if you want me to.”
When she replies, there’s some of that teasing back in her tone. “I thought we had something to unpack. What are you studying, anyway? That’s an academic word if I’ve ever heard one.”
“English.” I step into the room. It’s actually a small suite, two separate bedrooms instead of one. I suppose being a staff member’s daughter has advantages beyond free tuition. “I’ve spent most of my college career unpacking.”
Her pretty lips curve into a smile. “I’d rather unpack than analyze, especially when there’s math involved. I’m studying biology.”
“You sound thrilled.”
“I know, right?” she says dryly. “I can hardly contain my excitement.”
“I know we don’t really know each other,” I say abruptly. “But what are you doing, hooking up with random guys?”
She just raises her eyebrows as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Why do you care? Ours was a one-time deal, as I remember. And he wasn’t random.”
“What’s his name?”
“Alfred.”
“Alfred what?”
“Alfred Something.” She glares at me, a defiant look in her eyes. “Not that it’s your business who I hook up with.”
“You called him an ass, Red.”
She laughs shortly. “I’m sure the trail of girls you’ve left behind would throw around worse about you.”
I ignore that. “Two days ago, I had to walk you through your first hand job, and now, you’re . . .”
“What?” she asks as I trail off. “A slut? Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Christ, no.” I scrub my hand over my face. Maybe it’s the fact she’s Coach Ryder’s daughter, but I can’t help wanting to be protective. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t do what you want to do, and I’d never call a girl that. I’m just worried, okay? I don’t know, you seem pretty inexperienced. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Her cheeks are flushed dark red. “Fuck you, Callahan.”
She whirls around and throws open one of the doors. I don’t exactly expect her to come back out, after the mess I’ve made in approximately two seconds, but she does a moment later, holding a bright pink journal. She riffles through the pages until she finds the one that she wants and hands it to me.
I stare down at it. It’s a list, clearly, simply labeled The List, but instead of a list of normal fucking things like groceries or movies or hockey stats, I see words like spanking and public sex and anal. For some reason, regular old vaginal sex is last on the list. The first item, Oral Sex (Receiving), is crossed off.
“What is this?”
She swallows, but even with blush all over her speckled cheeks, she holds her head up high. “It’s what I’m doing. You asked, so I’m showing you.”
“What is this, a sex bucket list or something?” She tries to snatch the notebook, but I hold it over her head. She jumps for it, so I step back, taking another peek at the list. I nearly choke when I see Orgasm Denial and Double Penetration. “This is kinky, Red.”
She huffs. “It’s not like I’m dying.”
“Then what is it? Have you even done any of this? Besides the first, of course.”
She stomps on my foot, and she’s still wearing her boots, so it hurts enough to startle me. She grabs the notebook, slams it shut, and holds it close to her chest like she’s giving it a hug. “I thought you might understand, but never mind.”
Her genuinely hurt tone gives me pause. “Understand what?”
She drags her teeth over her bottom lip. “You were right. I don’t have a lot of experience, but I’m trying to change that. These are all things I’ve wanted to do for years now.”
“Why don’t you get a boyfriend to do them with?”
She’s shaking her head before I even get the whole question out. “This isn’t about getting a boyfriend. This is about me. It’s about being in control of my own life.” She looks up at me, that fierce light in her eyes, like she’s daring me to laugh in her face. “And I’m not planning on doing all this with anyone I’d ever consider dating.”
I sidestep the implication that I’m someone she’d never catch feelings for to say, “So you’re giving yourself a crash course in sex? You know, most people are content with regular old boning. Maybe a few fun positions thrown in.”
She sets the journal on the little table next to the loveseat in the common area between the two rooms and reaches down to unzip her boots. She pulls them off and throws them, one after the other, into her bedroom. Why would she need to cling to control over her own experiences so tightly? Something about this whole situation is making the back of my neck prickle uncomfortably, but I doubt she’ll choose to confide in me. She just said that she’d never consider dating me, after all. Combined with the arousal I’m feeling low in my stomach—I swear, I can still taste the salt of her on my tongue—I’m halfway to bolting out the door. That would be the smart thing, right? Shut this conversation down and keep things firmly in co-volunteer territory.
Her assessment of the situation shouldn’t hurt, but it does. If I wanted to be in a relationship with someone, I totally could, I just haven’t wanted to tie myself down. I’m not James, who took his fucking fifth-grade girlfriend seriously. My priority has been fun, but there’s a difference between not wanting to be in a relationship and not being boyfriend material. I’d be a fantastic fucking boyfriend if I wanted that.
Without her boots on, she’s a couple inches shorter, but no less formidable. Even though she doesn’t look like her father beyond those light blue eyes, I can see a bit of him in the way she juts up her chin, like she’s expecting a challenge. Something tells me he taught her how to get physical when necessary. “I know,” she says. “But I want it.”
I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation with a girl about sex that got this detailed without ending in us doing the nasty, but I try to push past the awkwardness for her sake. “All of that stuff is fun,” I admit. “You have good taste.”
“I knew it,” she says, and her eyes are gleaming like she’s just gotten me to admit a secret. “You’re not most people.”
“True.” If we’re talking kinks, then fine, I’ll be honest. She saw a taste of it when we hooked up in the closet, after all. I like sex, so I’m not always all that particular, but nothing gets my dick harder than seeing a girl trust me with her pleasure, even if it’s only for a night. Praising her, rewarding her, pushing her until she goes somewhere she’s never gone before—Penny doesn’t know this, but I’ve introduced a fair number of girls to anal—is when I’m in my element the most. Ironically, I’d be a good choice of partner for her list if she wanted to stick with one guy all the way through, but that can’t happen. Even if I can’t rid myself of the memory of the soft noises she made, or if I want nothing more than to cross the slight gap between us and kiss her again. “But it’s not like I’m one of a kind. I would pick better than Asshole Something—”
“Alfred,” she corrects, her lips twitching as she fights a smile.
“—but I understand that it’s hard to follow up after me.” I grin, so she knows I’m mostly joking, and she rolls her eyes.
“You know,” she says, “for a second, I forgot how arrogant you are.”
“Not arrogant. Just confident.”
She cocks her head to the side. “Callahan.”
“What?”
Now she smiles, and it’s distracting and suspicious all at once. “You played well at your game, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Why?”
“And you said that you just needed a hookup to relax. Which it clearly helped you do.”
“Is that how correlations work?”
“Shut up, you know where I’m going with this.” She runs her fingers through the ends of her hair, her head still cocked to the side. She takes a step forward, the ghost of a smile on her face. “Take me through The List. I’ll get what I want, and it’ll help your game. Playing like that, you’ll be captain in no time.”
Tempting, but impossible. There’s a litany of reasons it wouldn’t work, and at the very top of the list is one Lawrence Ryder. If he ever finds out about our seven minutes in heaven–style hookup, I’m toast, but if he learns that I’ve been sneaking around with his daughter repeatedly, I’ll find myself selling skates in Dick’s Sporting Goods for a living after graduation. And that’s if I’m still breathing.
“Your father—” I start.
“Doesn’t decide who I sleep with,” she interrupts. “He won’t find out. Trust me, it’s not like I want him to know about this either.”
“Except he will, and he’ll forgive you because you’re his daughter, but me? I’ll be lucky if I stay on the team.”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“Don’t underestimate what a pissed-off father will do.”
She huffs out an annoyed breath. “Look, I’m not going to beg.”
“As tempting as it would be to see you on your knees,” I can’t help but say, because apparently, I’m an idiot; now the image is in my brain and I want to see that more than anything, “you already know I don’t do repeats.”
It’s physically painful to open the door. I can’t make myself take the first step into the hallway. Even though it’s ridiculous, she has a point; I played better than I had in ages. I look over my shoulder. Part of me desperately wants to say yes, if only for the chance to kiss her again, but I’d be playing a dangerous game. When a hookup goes on for too long, feelings inevitably get involved. I don’t know what happened to Penny to get her to this place, but I don’t want to have to break her heart. “Don’t do it like this, Penny. Find a nice guy to take you out.”
She gives me a light shove. “Thanks for the unsolicited advice, but if it’s not you, I’m sure I’ll find better matches than Alfred.”
Then she shuts the door in my face.
Chapter 15
Penny
Is it masochism if you offer sex to a guy and he turns you down, but then the next time you get yourself off, you think about him?
When Cooper left last night, I knew I should have done yoga or something to calm myself down, re-center, whatever, but I was so wet I could barely hold it together. We didn’t even do anything, and he made it clear that he doesn’t want to do anything with me ever again, but my body was gleefully traitorous. From the moment we were alone in his car, a truck that he told me he bought with his own money and restored to glory when he was seventeen, to when I slammed the door in his face, I struggled not to jump him. Whenever he called me Red, my pussy literally throbbed.
And so, instead of doing the smart thing, the moment I was alone, I took out Igor and fucked myself with it. I didn’t even pretend to conjure up a fantasy; I just replayed what we did in the closet together, and when I ran through that, I imagined what it would be like to go down The List with him. I didn’t stop until I came three times, trembling and sweating, and now, in the light of day, I know I should muster up some regret, or at the very least embarrassment, but I can’t. Cooper is in a class all his own, and nothing made that realization starker than seeing him in the same room as Alfred.
Ugh, Alfred. I can’t believe I was ever going to blow him. This whole “seize the dick” plan is getting shakier by the day.
I really ought to refocus on the chemistry textbook in front of me, since next week’s test is looming and all I’ve done so far is add a new spicy scene to my book. It’s been over an hour since I dragged myself out of bed. I’m in the library, nestled in my favorite chair. My bag of gummy bears and upbeat studying playlist would help in any other scenario, but I’ve been staring at this one page for the better part of my time here.
I give in to the urge to take out my phone and send Mia a Snap. She replies almost immediately, so she’s finally awake. When I left earlier, she didn’t even stir. I have no idea what time it was when she came in last night, but it was a lot later than me. She says she’ll head to the library with coffees, which is a draw on the productivity front—I could use more caffeine, but she’ll want to know about last night. I’m about to accept defeat and move on to my Spanish homework when my dad calls.
On either Fridays or Saturdays, or with this weekend, both days, we usually don’t see each other, because he’s busy with work and I’ve never gone to see a game. Ironically, Mia has; we have some other friends who go regularly, and we have standing invitations. I also have a standing invitation from my father, courtesy of two seats right behind the McKee bench that are permanently reserved for me. The last time I watched him coach was at his final game at Arizona State, and that happened three years ago.
“Hey,” I say cautiously. “Everything okay?”
“You went to Haverhill last night?”
My stomach drops. “How did you hear?”
“That’s for upperclassmen, bug.”
“I can handle an off-campus party.”
“You don’t know who goes to those things.”
I swallow as I twirl my hair. “Just other students. Who told you, Dad? You promised not to look at my social media anymore.”
“I know,” he says. “I didn’t, one of the guys mentioned to me you were there.”
“So now you have your players spying on me?”
He sighs deeply. “Penelope, I just wanted to make sure that everything is okay. That you’re focused on the right things. You need to be dialed in on school, not running around off-campus parties. I thought we were past that.”
“Going to one party doesn’t mean I’m not working hard, Dad.”
“I just don’t want you falling into old patterns.”
“No,” I say. “That’s unfair and you know it. How many of your guys went out to celebrate the win last night? If that’s fine for them but terrible for me, you’re no better than Preston’s parents and everyone else.”
I hang up. The moment the call ends, I shove my phone back into my bag and burrow my head in my arms. This is the exact reason it’s better if he doesn’t get involved in my life outside of academics; we always end up arguing. He’s not as bad as Traci Biller, because as far as I know, he’s never called me a “manipulative slut,” but I couldn’t help letting the words slip out. I hate when he brings up my past, especially since I’ve tried so hard to move on. He keeps telling me he knows I’ve changed, but how can I believe him when things like this happen?
For what feels like the millionth time, my chest aches like someone just stuck a rusty knife right into the center. I miss my mother. I miss the family I used to have. When she died, my dad retreated so far into his grief that I barely saw him. It had been the three of us, and then suddenly the glue holding us together was gone, and he couldn’t handle it. Going to parties and getting drunk, blowing off school and my training to hang out with Preston and his friends, acting like nothing mattered—it was better than coming home to an empty house because Dad slept in his office yet again. I paid the price for it, in the end, and I guess in some ways I’m still paying it.
Someone puts their hand on my shoulder. I look up, startled; it’s just Mia, holding out a coffee.
“Thanks,” I say, wiping at my eyes quickly.
“Chemistry going that badly?” she teases as she pulls over another armchair. “Or wait—I don’t have to go beat up Cooper Callahan, do I?”
I shake my head, a smile on my face despite myself. “Pretty sure he’d win that one.”
“Absolutely not. I could take him. I’d jump on his back and claw out his eyes.”
“As much fun as you’d have,” I say, “it was just something stupid with my dad.”
She pulls her laptop out of her bag, along with a highlighter and a bunch of articles that no doubt need annotating. “Everything okay?”
I bite my lip. Talking about Cooper, even though he rejected me, sounds a lot better than getting into the thing with Dad, so I say, “I saw Cooper last night. I helped him get his sister home, and then . . . he escorted me home.”
Mia raises her eyebrows. Even though I’m sure she’s hungover, she’s wearing makeup; I opted for my usual mascara but couldn’t muster up anything beyond that. “What happened to that other guy I saw you with?”
I explain the whole thing, from the vomit situation to the moment I shoved Cooper out of our room. By the end of the story, I’m blushing. It wasn’t like I asked Cooper on a date. I offered him sex—repeated sex, no strings attached—and he turned me down. What’s wrong with me that I couldn’t entice a guy whose middle name is practically “casual” to agree to that? It’s pathetic.
