“Did you go?” Hugh cuts in, interrupting my internal self-destruction.
I jerk my head up. “What?”
“Did you get coffee?” he asks slowly, like I’m an idiot. Which is fair, because I heard him perfectly and still managed to sound clueless as hell.
“Oh. Uh. No,” I say, giving a half-assed shrug.
His eyes narrow, head tilting like he’s reassessing me. “Good,” he says finally. “He’s…nice. But he isn’t a good friend.”
I hum under my breath. “You used to be friends, though.”
“Not anymore.”
And then he just leaves, walks out of the room like that’s the end of it, abandoning his half-drunk beer on the counter and shutting down the conversation completely, like there’ssomething here he refuses to touch. I’m not saying that’s completely abnormal for my emotionally stunted best friend but it still bothers me.
5
Griffin
I’m sore all over,and all Sabrina wants to do is complain.
I should be used to it. God knows this isn’t new but tonight it’s drilling straight into my skull, and I can feel a headache brewing behind my eyes.
I know I should be a better boyfriend and I should at least try to pretend I care about this party she’s dead-set on dragging me to, but I can’t even bring myself to roll off the bed, let alone get dressed and be social.
“Come on, Griffin,” she whines from the end of the bed, standing there like she’s posing for a goddamn fashion shoot, hands on her hips and a pout painted onto her lips in perfect glossy red.
Yeah, I can admit that she looks good. Not just good, either. Fucking stunning.
She’s wearing this tiny red dress that clings to her like it was sewn directly onto her body, hugging her toned stomach and stretching perfectly over her hips. Her tits are damn near committing a public offense, threatening to spill out if she breathes too hard, and her hair’s curled just right, cascadingover her shoulders. Her makeup is flawless and her lips are doing things that make my brain short-circuit for half a second.
And yeah, under literally any other circumstance, I’d be all over her without a second thought. No hesitation.
But my dick’s as tired as the rest of me and wants absolutely nothing to do with my hot-as-fuck girlfriend currently glaring daggers at me.
I sigh and rub at my face. “I don’t want to go out, Sab. I’m fucking tired. Coach has been running us into the ground all week.”
She huffs, rolling her bright blue eyes like I just told her I’d rather spend the evening organizing my sock drawer. “Seriously? You’ve been doing this for three years, andthisis the year you decide to stop being fun? It’s senior year, Griffin.”
“I’m fun,” I offer weakly, knowing how pathetic it sounds the second it leaves my mouth.
She crawls onto the bed slow and deliberate, totally aware of every single move she’s making. Her hips sway and her tiny red dress rides up just enough to make it clear she’s not wearing much underneath. Her tits are practically falling out, bouncing with every shift, and she’s biting her lip in that way she knows gets me going. Her chin tilted down, eyes up, all pouty and perfect like she’s about to climb on top of me and make me forget what I was even mad about.
It’s hot.
She’s fucking gorgeous, and she knows exactly how to use it.
Any other night, that move would’ve worked instantly. I’d be flipping her over by now and forgetting about whatever argument we just had while I bury myself eight inches deep in her tight wet heat.
But tonight?
Nothing.
No spark. Not even a twitch. My cock is fullynoton board with fucking her into the mattress.
There’s just this weird, detached feeling in my chest while I watch her do her thing like I’m outside my own body. It’s not that I don’t see her. I do. I just… don’t feel it. At all.
“Sab, I’m serious,” I say, voice low and intentionally soft. I already know I’m about to piss her off but I still try not to.
