A year and a half ago, Elijah and Gage swore to keep in touch. But inevitably, things fester and the two haven't really seen each other since Gage's 17th birthday party. But with Gage now starting his first year at Michigan State, and Elijah beginni...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sunlight peered in through a sheer curtain, waking me up with ease. I reached up a hand, covering my face while stretching out both legs. But before I could move the other arm, I was suddenly aware of the pale back that was lied down beside me. The back was warm with a few birthmarks and moles, and then—I noticed the scratches.
They were red and took up almost half of his back. I winced slightly, beginning to feel bad for practically tearing Jeremiah's back last night. But then I smiled a shy smile, once actually remembering the events of last night.
Jeremiah and I had gone for hours while the party still went on, but we began to slow down around three o'clock in the morning when people started to go home. After the both of us finished, we sent each other lopsided grins, sweat washing over us both.
He had leaned down, and landed a soft peck on my lips, my legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. "God, you're fucking perfect." He had whispered into the kiss, still catching his breath.
"You're fucking perfect." I had whispered back, my heart warming when he engulfed me into a sincere hold. Then, we held each other until we fell asleep.
I wasn't sure if I should wake him up and say good morning, or if the appropriate thing to do would be leaving before he even woke up. Gosh, hookup culture is so confusing. Without a second thought, I decided to get dressed and slip out of the door before he noticed.
Leaving before he woke up was easier than being kicked out once he realized I had spent the night.
But just as I was slipping on my jeans and running a hand through my hair, Jeremiah began to stretch and yawn, turning over and catching me. He raised an eyebrow, flipping onto his back and sliding an arm behind his head.
"Leaving already?" His full lips stretched into a sly smile, my cheeks heating at the fact that he obviously didn't want me to leave.
"I don't know," I said honestly, "do you want me to leave?" My words were hopeful, hopeful that he'd say no and ask me to stay.
Jeremiah shook his head, lighting that same fire from last night in my stomach. He reached out, finger hooking onto the loops of my jeans just like he had the night before. "No. I want you to stay and let me thank you."
My eyebrows furrowed, my legs making the short few steps toward him. "Thank me for what?"
He brought me even closer, pulling me and my jean clad bottom back onto the bed. But instead of into my spot from before—right onto his lap. He settled me there, hands resting on my thighs. "For last night," he leaned in and landed an innocent kiss on my lips, "and your body," he landed another on my jaw, "and your mouth," another on my neck, "and your hands." The last on my collarbone.
He left a trail of goosebumps as he did so. I let out a light chuckle, trying not to get so excited so soon. "So you liked all of that, huh?"
Jeremiah nods, his lips parting to speak again but being interrupted by a knock on his door. "Yeah?" He calls out.
The door is pushed on, but not opened considering Jeremiah had locked it before we slept together the night before. I thank god for this, considering I'm shirtless and Jeremiah is still completely bare underneath his sheets.
"Get dressed, Eli's here with the guys and we're all going out for lunch and drinks at 21. Tell your buddy it's time to go home." My cheeks redden at his mention of me, because it's humiliating to know that while booking up with someone—everyone else heard it.
But then, my heart begins to slow and fall back at the mention of Eli—because who the hell was Eli? I closed both eyes and prayed and prayed that Jeremiah's Eli wasn't my Eli. As in Elijah.
I stood up from Jeremiah's lap, watching as he met out an irritated groan. I could tell that he'd wanted to go another round this morning, but we were rudely interrupted by his frat buddy who would rather go have lunch.
I bent down, retrieving my t-shirt and slipping it back onto my shoulders. After sliding into my plain white sneakers, I looked over at Jeremiah who was also busy pulling some clothes onto his body. Once he was dressed, he spritzed some cologne on himself, running a brush through his curls.
When he caught me staring quietly, he reached out, pulling my face into his large hands. I smiled into the kiss, my hands latching onto his arms. "I should go," I speak into the kiss, chucking loudly when he groans, hurrying his head into my shoulder. "I hope you have fun with your friends."
"Fuck my friends," he laughs into my shoulder, landing another kiss there. "They suck."
I detach myself from his arms, reaching into the back pocket of my jeans and pulling out my cellphone. I frown when realizing that I've only got a few percentages left before it dies on me but it's just enough to get Jeremiah's phone number.
He seems to understand what I want and types his number into my cell, holding it into his chest before saying, "you call me tonight, okay? I don't want this to be the last time I see you."
His words are so sweet that I almost audibly coo at them. But I simply nod, reaching up to place one last kiss on his swollen lips. "Of course."
I leave his bedroom, shutting the door behind me, but not before sparing Jeremiah one last longing look. Once I descend the stairs, I cough awkwardly when the rest of the fraternity who are lounging on the couches, look over and notice me.
One of them whistles, while another slaps him on the arm, shushing him. He looks over at me and sends a comforting smile, seeing how uncomfortable I feel. "Drive safe." He says kindly.
"Thank you." I say back, genuinely surprised that he actually seems like a decent guy.
I pull the front door open, my keys already in hand. But I'm stopped instantly when I run into a firm chest. My face scrunches up at the collision, my head tilting up to glance at whoever I've run into. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"Gage?"
My heart begins to thump in that same and familiar way it always has when he says my name. It's him. It's him. It's him. He's here, looking at me—and god, he looks as handsome as ever. How could he be here? Does he know Jeremiah? Did he join the frat? I can't do this right now.
I don't say anything. I can say anything. I haven't seen him in almost two years, I haven't spoken to him in at least eight months. He stands there, piercing green eyes staring down at me in wonder. He looks so different. He doesn't have anymore curls, he haircut a mere buzz cut. He looks a little older, and far more handsome than he's ever been.
And I bolt.
I run away and over to where I had parked my car last night before the party. I don't spare Elijah another glance, while I slide into the drivers seat and pull out of the driveway leaving him standing there dumbfounded and confusion written all over his features.
