I can feel the tension roll through his body next to me. “Areyou?”
“I asked you first.”
“No!Are you?”
“No!”
“Do you want to have sex with other people? Is that what this is?”
“Oh my God, No! Why would you ask me that?”
“I don’t know, Ken, probably because I was under the impression we were already exclusive.”
His arm flexes around me and I throw my leg over his, running my fingers across his chest, feeling shy and stupid. “I didn’t know that.”
Will lets out an exasperated chuckle, running a hand over his face. “Then I’ll be extra clear: I’m not doing this,” he pokes me with a finger, “with anyone else. I’m not talking to other girls, I’m not staying at their apartments, I’m not thinking of every possible excuse to spend time with anyone else except you.”
Intense satisfaction flows through me. “I’m not doing this with anyone else either.”
“Then it's settled. We’re exclusive.”
Will rolls onto his side, kicking the heating pad off his leg and onto the floor, shifting us until we’re spooning with one of his heavy arms thrown over me. Within seconds I feel his hard length pressing against me. “Ignore it,” he whispers. “Goodnight.”
I fall asleep with Will curled around me and in the morning, he says goodbye slowly, kissing my entire body, spending a lot of time kissing between my legs. I won’t see him again until after Thanksgiving due to his away game schedule and he says he wants to make sure I’ll know how much he’ll be thinking about me when he’s gone.
DECEMBER
Chapter Twenty
Will
I’m nervous. Stupidly nervous. I know I shouldn’t be, but I want today to go perfectly. I want Kennedy to know that I like her for a lot more than just sex. Don't get me wrong, sex is amazing, one of my favorite things ever, but I want her to know I want her to be my girlfriend, not my long term fuck buddy.
I’m pretty much ready to just start telling people she is my girlfriend. Not being able to kiss her, or put her on my lap, or hold her hand whenever I want is starting to feel pointless. I want to be able to talk about her to the guys when we’re discussing weekend plans or parties.
I get that she doesn’t want Miranda to know yet, but why? I don’t see what the big deal is here. It's not like I banned Miranda from ever dating my friends. In fact, I have some friends who I'd be happy if they dated my sister. Mirandaavoiding hockey players at all costs is somehting she came up with on her own. I'm not complaining, I's much prefer not having to navigate my sister dating my teammate, but at the same time, I don't care nearly as much as she does.
I go over my itinerary in my head one more time, double checking that I have everything I need for today. Adrian is sitting on the living room couch in just his boxers, eating a bowl of cereal when I walk out. “Where’re you headed?”
I rummage around the kitchen, opening a tub of protein powder. “I have a date,” I say, scoping protein into a shaker bottle.
“With Kennedy?”
I shake up my protein shake, debating on how to answer this question. Not because I care if Adrian knows, but because we haven’t talked about telling other people and I want to respect Kennedy. “No.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
I take a huge gulp of my protein shake before answering. “Okay, yeah, whatever. I’m going on a date with Kennedy.” I try to sound nonchalant about it, but the back of my neck feels hot and there’s a rightness in my chest at the same time. It feels good to let it out, to tell someone.
He sets his empty bowl of cereal in the kitchen sink next to me before patting me on the back one time. “I fucking knew it. Have fun,” he says, winking at me, “Be safe.”
Adrian and I operate very differently when it comes to girls, so I know he’s being genuine. I slam the rest of my protein shake then make some scrambled eggs and toast–I need to have something in my stomach before this date.
I’m so nervous that I leave the flowers in the car and have to turn back half way up her stairs to go get them. With flowers in hand, I knock on her door. She opens her door looking absolutely stunning. She’s wearing a light purple monochromatic set of workout clothes and a matching pullover. Her hair is pulled into a loose ponytail on the crown of her head. There’s a small tote bag in her hands with what looks like a green sweater folded up inside. I don’t know what it is about the outfit,but I have to physically stop myself from open mouth staring at her. I thrust the bouquet of flowers toward her, “These are for you.”
She takes them, inviting me in so she can put them in water. I’ve come to realize that Kennedy usually has clothes tossed everywhere, and today is no different. There are multiple pairs of pants and tops haphazardly strewn over her bed and loveseat. I weirdly really like knowing that she tried on multiple outfits for me. Maybe she’s just as nervous as I am.
“You’re dressed perfectly, by the way,” I throw out there.
