He loosened his hold and put too much space between us. “Yes. Um, not here, though. Not at school.”
This had been my original plan. I wanted him talking, admitting shit. I wanted this war over, but now I was pissed. Hard up and fuming. I snagged one loosely held arm and wrenched it behind his back as I spun, pushing him against the shelves, then locked him in place with my other arm around his chest.
As if our brains were in sync, no matter what we were up to, Cal pushed his ass against my dick. Not once, no. No mistaking this movement. He was full-on rubbing me off with his tight-as-fuck glutes.
I groaned, and when I licked up the side of his neck, so did he.
“You sure you want totalk?” I asked as I lowered my hand—mmm, his washboard abs—until I got to his jeans, then kept going. Cal’s dick strained into my palm.
He dropped his jaw as a clipped huff blasted out of him, and then his body shook. “Fuck.”
“You’re on the right track.”
I curved my fingers around him as much as I could outside his jeans and gave him a tight stroke. Both our heads tipped forward with a relieved sigh. His hit the shelf with a soft thunk. Mine hit the back of his head, and I soaked in the smell of his shampoo.
“You’re so fucking crazy,” Cal whispered with a smile in his tone.
That smile warmed me up and pissed me off. The utter bliss of making him happy was suddenly all that mattered to me, but with that came the very sobering fact that that wasn’t my purpose in doing this. I wanted him fighting me. I wanted him fighting himself. Cal needed to admit he hated my guts so I could get on with my life.
“Whatever I am, you like it,” I hissed in his ear, then let him go and stormed off.
My cock painfully raged at me. Penance. I ignored the ache, gathered my shit, and walked out of the library. Not checking behind me to see what Cal was doing was the hardest thing, but I did it, then breathed a sigh of relief when I was out in the hall.
Tough love, I snorted to myself. For me too. The plan was to frustrate Cal enough to make him own up, force him into making a move. Either shock the shit out of me or reaffirm my belief that people weren’t worth my trust. No one outside of my family deserved any part of me.
But how could I hold on to that protective wall I’d built now that Cal had found a crack, an opening?
What am I doing? What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing?
I’d ignored this crush for too long. I hadn’t been taming it in the slightest, only bottling it up, and now I was paying for it, going out of my mind over it. This wasn’t me, was it? I wasn’t a bully.
Cal liked it, right? I couldn’t be wrong in that.
“You still got that thing after school, right?” Ty asked as we settled in our seats for the next class.
“Have I mentioned it changed again?” My atoms still hummed, and my balls still ached. The snap in my tone was a chemical reaction from all of it.
“Chill, dude.”
I exhaled, working on just that. This spiral I found myself in wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Falling for someone just happened sometimes, no matter our best efforts not to. And that was what I had done. Somewhere in the hate, somewhere in learning my enemy, I had fallen for him. And doing so pissed me off even more. This wasn’t some stupid crush. I liked Cal, everything I knew about him. He held all the power now. The power to blow my mind and the power to blow up my heart. Being out of control was the worst, but I didn’t know how to change it.
“Big Brother knows we have a tournament this weekend, right?”
I rolled my eyes but smiled at Ty. He’d love nothing more than to call Trent Wright my sex therapist as he did at home. Big Brother was just as apt.
“Don’t think he cares, Ty. It’s the wrong sport.”
The football team failed to do anything worthwhile, again, this year. No playoffs, just the regular season. Our FC was having an awesome fall season. To close out on a win this weekend, we’d planned double the practices this week.
So, as I sat my grumbling ass in the chair next to Cal in Trent’s office after school, I was already spitting mad. Why did we have to change the sessions this week, of all weeks, and make me miss an important practice? Soccer wasn’t life for me. However, it was important right now. As was figuring out Cal and me, but on our own terms, not this forced shit.
“Jack, everything all right?” Trent asked, hitting my nerves in all the wrong ways.
“What do you think? How many weeks have we been at this, and all you’ve managed to do is have us act like sweatshop workers in some third-world country, force us to say good morning to each other, talk about your own life at school, and waste two hours of our lives every week.”
“Tell us how you really feel.”
Fuck, if this wasn’t school, I’d punch this fucker in the balls.
