Page 171
I get her leggings down and off one ankle. She kicks them the rest of the way and pulls me back down by the neck.
“I missed you,” she says again.
“I know.”
“Asshole—”
“Baby, this is a two-way street,” I say into her mouth.
She goes quiet, and her hands go into my sweatpants and pull me out.
“Yeah?” she whispers, pulling my dick to her entrance.
I press into her. “Yes.”
She moans the whole way, and I’m pounding into her like she might disappear if I don’t. Her hands come up around my shoulders and hold on. After that, there’s no talking. She’s loud, and she doesn’t care that it’s seven on a Sunday with the whole floor home. When she gets close, she says my name into the side of my neck, and I’ve been thinking about that exact sound all fucking weekend.
Afterward, she’s on my chest under her blanket with her leg thrown over both of mine, and I’m so tired I can feel it behind my eyes. She’s playing with my fingers, holding my hand up in front of her face and bending each one back and letting it go. She’s telling me about Saturday, which I already heard all of at one in the morning from a hotel room.
“Tessa got drunk,” she says.
“You told me.”
“She got drunk, Nash.”
“I heard you the first six times.”
“She yelled at a referee.”
“You said.”
She belly-laughs. “So unbelievable.”
I take my hand back and put it on her back instead, and she settles and goes quiet for a second. Outside her window, somebody’s car alarm goes off in the lot and then stops. I’ve got nowhere to be until skate tomorrow, so I lean into her and close my eyes.
My phone buzzes on the floor by the bed. I ignore it. It stops for maybe five seconds and starts again. I let that go too. Then twice more.
“Somebody really wants you,” Kylie says into my chest.
It keeps going. I reach down blind and find it under my sweatpants.
Koda.
“This better not be about Paige,” I say, and Kylie laughs beside me.
Koda: Answer your fucking phone.
Koda: NASH!
Koda: Pick up.
Koda: Greeley posted it.
I sit up.
The link’s under it. It’s an account I don’t recognize with a number in the handle, reposted by somebody on Greek row, reposted again by a page that’s just Woodbury students posting about Woodbury students. The caption says WOODBURY HOCKEY. NHL PROSPECT. AT A PARTY LAST MONTH.
It starts with me already moving. I’m coming across the kitchen at him with my hands up and Greeley backing away, and the whole rest of it is me. Me getting him down, me on top of him, somebody screaming behind the camera, Rafe’s arm around my chest from behind and me coming out of it and going back in, and four guys on me. My shirt’s up my back the entire time, so half the video is that too, on the fucking internet, in front of the whole world. There’s no stick in it. It looks like I’ve lost my goddamn mind.
