No one has.
Thayne sweetly smiles in my direction.
Almost no one.
“Everything okay with Coach?” inquires the man whose delectable abs are quite distracting at the moment along with his cut V and great cock.
Bit more thickness than length, yet I have no doubt in its abilities.
Nor can I wait to experience them.
Should I even let myself experience them?
Should I even be considering it?
“Yeah, um…” my head shakes off the runaway thoughts, “he’s on vacation for a couple weeks and was just checking in.”
“You two are pretty close, aye?”
There’s no stopping my shoulders from dropping further during the confession, “He’s my best friend.”
Thayne slowly nods his understanding but doesn’t rebut.
“And that means…that…we…probably…shouldn’t…” the end of my sentence is left to linger in the air despite the words not actually forming.
“I hear ya,” he sweetly announces, voice soft and sympathetic, “but does he hearyou?”
The question furrows my brow.
“You’re always worried about what other people want or wantfor you,but who listens to whatyouwant, Gillybean?” His lips briefly press together. “Shouldn’t you get a chance to say what that is? And if you don’t know, shouldn’t you get a chance to figure it out?”
Stopping my mouth from sliding towards my lap is impossible.
“Shouldn’t you get a chance to explore what makesyouhappy andwhomakes you happy?”
Bobbing my jaw seems to be all I’m capable of.
“I know who I want, Gillian.” Brightness in his beam is blinding but exhilarating. “I’ve known since the minute I saw you in that blue jean dress that I was the one that would be willin’ to do anything to put boots on those feet.”
I can’t hide my giggles or blushes or lip biting.
“Do you really wanna hit stop on whatever we’ve got goin’ on between us or do you wanna spend the next couple of weeks pullin’ a Lionel?”
“Meaning?” is practically whispered.
“Do you wanna see if it’s me you’ve been lookin’ for?”
Chapter 8
Thayne
Bronny dramatically throws his head in my direction at the same time he gags, “Cringe.”
I pull my midnight black Chevy truck up to the stop sign and grunt, “Why you gottasaycringe?” My attention briefly cuts over to him in the passenger seat. “Why can’t you jus’…Idontknow?Cringe?”
“Extra. Cringe.”
“Says the bud sportin’ a haircut that makes him look like the Withers’ alpaca.”
