Water boy, p.23
Water Boy, page 23
My heart twists at the thought, so I grip his hips tighter despite freezing under his warm frame. My body locks up on its own accord.
“Pace,” I stammer. His extremely hard, demanding cock tears through my flesh, but I’m too dry to even enjoy him.
I wince in pain, and the hurt in his eyes is immediate. His movements halt abruptly, and he pulls out of me, a crestfallen expression on his face.
He sits at the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, dropping his head in his hands with his back to me.
“Sorry,” I rasp. “I…I guess I’m just tired.”
His posture goes rigid, and his voice comes out like a harsh accusation. “What’s wrong, Frankie? That was the last excuse you gave me. Tired.”
He’s upset about this. He’s upset with me.
“It’s not you,” I start, then falter.
But he misunderstands my silence, his frustration boiling over. “Then what is it? Did your body forget how to work with mine? You’re that repulsed by me all of a sudden?”
I sit up, hugging the sheets around me as I shake my head. “No, I just—”
“Is it the memorial?” He looks at me, confusion warring in his expression. “Or maybe you’re having second thoughts about doing this. Whatever the fuck this is.”
“It’s not that,” I whisper, but my defense sounds feeble even to my own ears.
For a moment, it looks like he might say something more but his restraint snaps like his wounded pride.
Standing, he starts getting dressed.
“Pace…”
He stops suddenly, facing me with an intensity that pins me in place. “Are you pregnant, Franks?”
I shake my head profusely. “No. Why would you even think that?” I snap back, more hurt about the way he phrased his question.
His voice cracks, anger and something dangerously close to hurt seeping through. “Because it seems like you’re just looking for an out.”
The accusation stings because it’s nowhere close to the truth. “Pace, please,” I try, reaching for him.
But he’s already retreating, his following words laced with a bitterness that doesn’t fit the man I know.
“Maybe we’re just a mistake. A fling. Fun while it lasted, but just another lousy chapter in your coming-of-age story.”
I flinch, his words a mirror to my deepest insecurities. “That’s not fair.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it, just resignation and a hint of something like betrayal.
“Fair? What’s fair about any of this, Frankie? You hiding behind your fears, me pretending I’m okay being your secret? Not knowing what the fuck is going on in that head of yours?”
The room feels colder and emptier as he gathers his things, his movements final.
“I guess this was nothing but a convenient escape.”
With those last words, he leaves, the door slamming behind him.
CHAPTER 40
Pace
I follow the team off the field, still coming down from the game’s high. One more sleep until the memorial, and I’m already tired as fuck and jaded.
“Great game, Captain,” Tobias begins, catching up to me. The title rolls off his tongue like an afterthought. But it’s his following words that lodge themselves in my thoughts. “Everyone’s talking about Frankie. He’s...well, he’s changing. You’ve seen it, right?”
Of course, I have. I’m not fucking blind.
I saw her with a couple of track guys, all smiles and laughter before, during, and after the game. It stoked a fire I don’t want to admit was burning the entire time my eyes flickered in their direction.
Fucking sleazeballs. None of those twats had any interest in rugby. But I guess they’re noticing Frankie’s changes, so they’re hanging around like vultures now.
She’s becoming who she’s meant to be in the face of everything and everyone, including me.
“Frankie’s suddenly the center of attention,” Tobias muses, his voice dripping with a casual disinterest that doesn’t fool me for a second. He nods over at Frankie, who’s filling her cart with the help of one of the track guys.
Dressed in her fitted jeans and a colorful top, she’s a far cry from the baggy clothes she used to wear. Her hair, now longer and styled, frames her face beautifully. The makeup is subtle but enhances her features, drawing even more attention.
“And your point is?” I counter, struggling to keep my voice even.
“Just making conversation, man. I noticed he’s been...different lately. More in the spotlight, thanks to this whole new look.” His eyes flick to mine, probing. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”
A twitch in my jaw betrays my irritation, but I clamp down on it. “Why would you think that?”
He shrugs, arms crossed, the picture of punchable nonchalance. “Oh, nothing specific. Just piecing things together. The spring break trip, for starters. You two come back, and suddenly, Frankie’s not the same guy. And he seems...I don’t know, easier around you?”
I can feel my control fraying at the edges. “What’s your angle, T? Spit it out. You’ve been dropping a lot of fucking hints lately.” I use my words carefully. “Seems like you’ve always had it in for Frankie. And Frankie’s business is just that—Frankie’s. Not up for your speculation.”
Tobias raises his hands in a mock surrender, seemingly pleased to have struck a nerve. “Hey, relax. Just observing. No offense meant, bro.” With that, he gives me a pat on the back that feels more like a push, then turns to catch up with the team.
Maybe that’s part of why she’s pulling away. She’s finding her vibe, her crowd with people who don’t carry the same baggage I do.
My mind drifts back to the day I saw her crying on the field after receiving the bad news about her merit increase. The image of her, so vulnerable and dejected, haunts me. There was a raw, unfiltered despair that I hadn’t seen before.
That moment of helplessness seemed to crack the foundation of her dreams, ambitions, and perhaps, her self-worth. Clearly, our world, this team, might be too small for someone with her passion, talent, and drive.
Fuck it.
And them.
And Tobias.
Once I’m in the cluttered atmosphere of the locker room, I throw my gear into the locker harder than necessary. Frankie walks in, a noticeable shift in her appearance catching everyone off guard.
Dennis pauses mid-way through pulling his socks off, exchanging a glance with Fritz with his eyebrows raised.
Fritz looks over and nods appreciatively. “Looking sharp, Frankie.”
Marco leans against his locker, watching her with a smirk. “Like a whole new person.”
Their gazes follow Frankie as she moves quickly, bypassing their usual banter to go straight for her duffel bag, ignoring the murmurs.
She doesn’t glance my way once.
Perhaps it’s time to hasten her search for opportunities beyond this place.
Beyond me.
The locker room is a mix of reactions. While some nod in agreement with Fritz, appreciating the new Frankie, others are less receptive. A couple of the newer recruits whisper to each other, their expressions mixed with confusion and disdain.
It’s clear that Frankie’s new look and demeanor have stirred more than just casual notice. Some see her confidence as a positive evolution and others view it as an unwelcome disruption to the norm.
“It’s interesting, huh?” Tobias speaks aloud. “How a little alteration in appearance can reveal true colors. Makes you wonder what else might change, doesn’t it?”
Tobias relishes the slight unraveling that his words cause, his smile widening as he notes the tension in my jaw.
“Speaking of change, I noticed Sierra hanging out more. Things heating up there?” Marco asks, unaware of the storm that’s brewing inside me.
“Nah, some people are just easy to be around. No complications,” I reply sharply. It’s more pointed than I intended, a release valve for pent-up frustrations.
I seriously need someone to rub some ointment on my ass because I’ve been butthurt since the night Frankie froze up on me.
Plus, that earlier statement, more a barb than anything, was meant to echo across the room…
Intended for one person’s ears.
Frankie’s reaction is immediate and telling. Her shoulders jerk back as if slapped, her eyes widening with a mix of confusion and pain. For a moment, she stands frozen as she digests the impact of my words.
Suddenly, my frustration crystallizes into regret.
Marco pats my back, thinking he’s in on some joke. “Better than dealing with hot and cold drama, right? Keep it simple,” he advises, oblivious to the cut of the double-edged sword I’ve swung. “No more guessing games. Just something straightforward.”
Tobias chuckles softly beside me, clearly satisfied with the ripple effects.
Defiance and guilt coil a tight brace in my stomach as I watch Frankie leave. My words were a calculated attempt to bridge the distance with a spark; now, they seem like a misstep.
Fuck.
CHAPTER 41
Pace
I drove home to my parents’ house on impulse, needing to escape campus. Below us, the muffled sounds of their conversation drift up from the entertainment room.
“You need to relax, big bro,” Dara says, cutting through my thoughts. “It doesn’t have to be this hard.”
I halt my restless pacing and lean heavily against the balcony wall, the cool evening air brushing against my face. Dara sidles up next to me, her elbow lightly bumping mine as she gazes into the night.
“How can it not be?” I respond.
Dara watches me, her eyes sharp and discerning. “You’re changing, Pace. Letting go. Moving on isn’t easy, but it’s happening.”
How did my baby sister become so intuitive? Damn, I’m surprised as shit about that.
“I don’t know…”
“So, how do you think it’s going to go tomorrow?” she says with a long exhale. I’m still stuck on the, ‘you’re finally letting go…moving on’ part of her statement.
“The usual—speeches, smiles, and wishing for it all to be over before it begins.”
She scrunches up her nose. “Sounds kinda formulaic.”
“Maybe because that’s what it’s become…”
I almost let it out of the bag about Frankie and me. My sister is the last person I should give the inside scoop about my love life. However, I need some perspective from a vibrant eighteen-year-old.
Who happens to be Frankie’s biggest fan.
“You still in touch with Frankie?” I ask carefully.
“More than you think.”
I raise a brow. “I know you guys exchanged numbers but didn’t think it was that serious,” I playfully retort.
She punches my arm. “Such a douche. But anyway, elaborate. I think I know where this is going.”
“Frankie and I are a thing…secretly.”
“And a girl, right? I know.” My head swivels to meet her sly gaze. ”It makes the night I heard weird noises from your room make a lot more sense. Gross, seriously gross, but hey…”
“Just don’t tell Mom and Dad about it. I know how much of a snitch you can be.”
She grimaces and makes a zipping motion across her lips. “Won’t breathe a word.”
“So yeah, it’s…complicated.”
Dara falls silent for a long, drawn-out moment. “Are you in love with her?” Her question cuts to the core. “Is that why the memorial feels like a burden rather than a celebration?” Her gentle question has me grappling with an answer I’m not ready to face.
It’s not that simple. I knew before I even got involved with Frankie that what we have is complexity and uncertainty rolled into one. And despite the tension between us, when I think of her, all I feel is warmth.
And sadness.
“I…”
“You’re not ready to acknowledge that yet. I get it.”
Dara’s eyes don’t miss a beat, reading between the lines of what I can’t bring myself to say. It’s her survivor’s instinct to be able to decipher people well. This skill seems all the more crucial now as I struggle with where I stand with Frankie.
“My mind is a mess,” I admit to her. “Everything is a mix of everything, and I can’t seem to focus or narrow it all down.”
Dara frowns. “There’s a lot on your plate, so things can get quite hazy. I will say, you’ve never been this dramatic when you were with Rebecca. No offense. You loved and respected her…it was real for what it was, but this thing with Frankie… it’s different.”
I turn to her, nodding slowly.
“I guess that’s because there are things that seemingly come together easily,” she notes, her brows creased. “And there are things you have to fight for.”
“Yeah,” I say softly, my gaze drifting to the stars above us.
“Anyway,” she says, rubbing her hands together. “I also wanted to talk to you about something that’s been in my head for a while. Well, for years, actually.”
I let out the breath I was storing, grateful for a change in subject.
“What’s up?” I ask, turning to face her with my back against the railing.
She takes a nervous breath. “I want to see if you could help me find my foster brother, Chess.”
I’m all ears on this now. I didn’t smell this coming from a mile away.
“Elaborate. I think I know where this is going,” I say with a light nudge, echoing her earlier words.
“Well, the good news is, he ended up being removed from the Thompsons. The bad news is, that’s basically where the trail runs cold for me.”
“You’ve been searching for him?”
“For a while, yes. I know Mom and Dad are going to freak out because they think I’ll feel terrible about how they were supposed to adopt him first, but Chess pushed for me. Trust me, no bone in my body could be that selfish and resentful. It still doesn’t change the fact I’m the favorite child.”
We laugh at that, and I can’t help but fill with pride. My sister is fucking amazing. For all she’s been through, she has a heart of gold, just like Chess.
“What do you need from me?” I ask, determined.
“Research? I don’t know. Can you help me with my FBI skills?”
“You know I will.”
She gives me a smile before pulling me into a tight hug. “Thanks, big bro.” After tapping my back, she says, “It’ll all work out. Just…don’t let things get too bad with Frankie.”
As Dara turns to go inside, insecurity hits me. After what I saw earlier, Frankie’s about to get many more offers, and it’s not just me seeing what a catch she is.
I brace myself against the railing, dread crawling out from within. But I force myself to channel into the sound of Frankie’s infectious laugh, her sarcasm, her humor, and her fearless spirit.
All of which have thawed a part of me that I thought would be forever frozen by grief.
The idea of her with someone else who could offer her more than a heart still mending creates a hole in my chest.
Who am I to stand in the way of someone who doesn’t want labels and is seemingly unsure about a relationship?
If there’s anyone who deserves to find her prince among the frogs, it’s Frankie. It would be selfish to want something more when she should be discovering new things other than her true self.
Where she no longer feels constrained but empowered to reach her full potential.
It’s probably for the best that I used the most hurtful, shittiest thing to push her away in that locker room.
Maybe it’ll save us both the trouble.
CHAPTER 42
Pace
In the bustling main hall of the college, transformed for the day into a vibrant homage to Rebecca’s life, I stand apart from the crowd.
Around me, the football team clusters, and my rugby teammates mingle among athletic staff and students.
Rebecca’s family is surrounded by friends, including my own family. Dara looks bored, often retreating to sit in the corner alone and sketch into her pad.
The walls are decorated with photographs capturing distinct moments of Rebecca and me. Laughing, holding hands, a stolen kiss during a game. Each image becomes a sharp discomfort for me.
As the speeches unfold, my role demands I stand and deliver.
Faces blur into a single, expectant mass as I step onto the podium, bracing myself before I speak.
“Rebecca lived a life full of color, passion, and undeniable joy,” I start, my voice steady. “In the short time she had with us, her impact was profound, especially within our athletic community. She wasn’t just a presence on the sidelines but a driving force, a source of motivation and inspiration for everyone she touched.” My speech is met with nods and smiles.
Pausing, I glance again at the photos. “Her legacy within our athletic department, her belief in teamwork and collective strength, is something we carry forward. Today, we celebrate the moments she gave us and the enduring impact she left on our hearts and our teams. Let’s honor her memory by embodying the care, courage, and community she championed.”
As I step down from the podium, I can’t help but feel a sense of detachment from the scene unfolding around me. That was a tough speech, not because I didn’t mean every word, but because the person I’ve become feels so far removed from the one who once shared those moments with Rebecca.
I catch a brief, understanding look from Dara. There’s a hint of acknowledgment in her eyes as if to say, “It’s okay to feel this way.”
My eyes sweep the crowd again, half-expecting to find Frankie among the faces, knowing she won’t be here.
The feeling of abandonment layers over the compounding loneliness while I silently wish Frankie was here. But her absence has confirmed my deepest fears—she doesn’t want me. Not in the way someone should.
