Loss of sex drive—well. He has definitely lost his desire. For the first couple of days, all he wanted was to have his hands on me, or my hands on him. When I’d come over to read him stories before bed he’d feel me up and we’d fool around. His room smelled of cum for days.
I think he realized that no amount of orgasms would take away his inner pain, so he just stopped.
There’s a part of me that wishes every fucking day he’d just take his frustration and pent up anger out on my pussy. Just bend me over and fuck me like he hates me, like he did that first time, until we’re both satisfied and exhausted. Because he can’t fucking sleep either. Whether I stay over or not doesn’t seem to make much of a difference. I think if he just dicked me real good, he’d wear himself out.
But I don’t want to force him, or rush him, or make him do anything he’s not comfortable with.
He’s not opening up to me either. When I see him, we play games, board games, card games, strategy games—his favorite at the moment is a game called Quoridor. I prefer Battleship, and when some of his team are around the hockey house, the classic Monopoly really gets everyone going. Sometimes, if I’m really lucky, he’ll strum his guitar for me and for a few minutes everything feels like it might be okay.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Eloise pauses. “It’s funny because you’re Penny.” She giggles.
We’re sitting around Savannah’s living room for the monthly meeting of the Swoon Squad, the girl’s version of the UCR Raccoon’s Get Lit book club.
That’s the other thing that I can’t get Tate to go to. The hockey team’s book club. He said it’s not important. If it’s not hockey or school work, he doesn’t think it adds value to his life, so he just won’t bother.
“Penelope?” Eloise’s face turns from a casual smile to concern. “What is it?”
I shake my head. If I say things out loud I might cry, plus I don’t want to betray Tate’s trust to the group, even if they’re all on the inside.
“She’s worried about Tate.” It’s Athena de la Peña, the eldest, and the most terrifying of all the de la Peña siblings who speaks up.
Everyone around the table falls quiet. Savannah, Eloise, Edith, Tori, they all look at Athena who shrugs before taking a sip of the fruity cocktail Savannah prepared for the evening. It’s called Jambalaya, Southern Comfort, peach Schnapps, lime juice and grenadine.
It’s... potent.
I’m gonna have a headache in the morning.
When I suggested diluting it a little with some Sprite, they all laughed. I feel like a lightweight with this crowd.
“My brothers are worried about him, too. He’s drinking.” Athena’s words hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest.
“Wh-what?”
Tate has seemed fine every time I’ve seen him for the past few weeks.
Athena’s face is serious, but there’s sympathy in her eyes. “Ares has lived it, Penelope. He knows the signs. Your boy is drinking. Ares doesn’t think it’s too bad. At least not yet, but it could go that way.” She swallows. “We both know it’s a slippery slope into substance abuse.”
She’s talking about Dad without saying his name. “Whatever you need, whatever Tate needs, we’re all here for him.”
Eloise holds out a Kleenex because the tears brimming in my eyes are now trickling down my face, and Tori puts her arm around me. “My experience with Raffi isn’t the same as yours with Tate, or yours with Ares, Athena. But I’ve lived through injury and recovery with him. It’s hard as fuck. She’s right, Pen. We’re all here for you.”
“I don’t know what to do. He’s closing off from me. He’s depressed, I know that much.” I look around the group, guilt creeping into my bones that I’ve upended book club with my boy drama. But everyone in this room has had their own issues and challenges with their hockey boyfriends. There’s no judgment here.
I’m one of them.
“I don’t know how to get him to come back to me.”
“We’ll figure it out.” Eloise pats my hand.
“Maybe I need to stay over in the hockey house more often.” I scan Savannah’s living room. She’s decorated the space with vibrant splashes of purple and sweeps of gold. The floor-to-ceiling drapes are heavy, and the furniture is all dark wood.
It’s luxurious without being lavish. It’s clear she and Justin have money. And their bookshelves are lined with copies ofJustin’s work. She has a Tiffany lamp on one of the end tables, it’s the ugliest damn lamp I’ve ever seen, but she adores it.
Despite the differences between this room, this house, and my dorm room, Savannah and Justin’s home is warm and welcoming, and the plush carpet feels nice between my toes.
I left my shoes at the door when I got here, afraid I’d trail dirt or footprints, or... I dunno, something through her house.
“Your home is gorgeous, Savannah.” Trying to fill the silence is fruitless.
