Chapter 2

2

Zach

Icould pick her voice out of a million others.

It’s with me now on the field as she cheers from the sideline.

It’s with me in my sleep.

Jill Harding.

The girl who has always owned my heart.

I struggle not to glance over at her now, to make sure she’s all right. I have a hard time concentrating at away games because I don’t like Jill being in unfamiliar—and often hostile—territory. And I can’t be in two places at once. If I had my pick, I would walk off the field right now and find a discreet but nearby place to stand and look out for her. But I don’t have a choice. Not really. Because what would that look like? The ugly, hulking linebacker stalking the sweet, gorgeous little cheer captain. I’d embarrass her. Hell, I’d embarrass myself.

It doesn’t help my mood that my teammates were talking about her in the locker room. Wondering out loud why the prettiest girl in school doesn’t have a homecoming date yet. They reached the conclusion I reached weeks ago—Jill is waiting for Miguel to ask her. And that makes sense, doesn’t it? The head cheerleader going to the dance with the quarterback.

The offensive lineman directly across from me blanches, the color leeching from his face and I realize I must look deranged, biting down on my mouthpiece hard enough to cut through the rubber, my fingers digging into the sod.

My coach and teammates think I’m ruthless by nature. I’m not.

I’m only on this team so I can keep an eye on Jill without being obvious.

But then I have these moments, these bursts of frustration and they translate into me making the all-county team three years running. It might be kind of funny if it wasn’t so tragic. The lineman mooning over the girl who is light years out of his fucking league, spending hours practicing and attending games, just so nobody tries to mess with her on the bus rides.

The ball gets snapped and I plow through their lineman, diving for the quarterback and wrapping an arm around his waist, dragging him down to the ground. Our cheering section is still huge at away games and they go crazy now, but all I hear is her voice.

Go, Zach! Oh my God! That’s his third sack!

They launch into a cheer and I chance a look over at the sidelines while we wait for the offense to finish their huddle. There she is. The girl who is a terrible singer, sleeps in a fluffy pink eye mask and dressed up as Judge Judy three Halloweens in a row. The girl who is kind to everyone, even the people who hate her on sight because they assume she’s a cliché. She’s not. She is goofy, she always supports an underdog and will pick up bugs and spiders with her bare hands. When my grandmother passed away, she came over and cooked for our family for two weeks. And she burned most of it, but I savored every bite. Damn, she’s so beautiful. My fucking heart can barely keep up with the beats required to be this close to her.

We win the game.

Afterward, I head for the bus, but I don’t see Jill. Not even in the group of cheerleaders. Her blonde hair tied up in its red, game night bow is nowhere to be found and I panic. Acid spears up into my chest and sounds are tinny, the ground seems to expand and contract under my feet. What if she wandered into the rival stands and they hurt her?

I throw my helmet down on the ground. Ignoring the questioning looks from my teammates, I dig through the pocket of my sweatshirt for my phone. Not wanting to freak her out or show my hand, I rarely call her unless it’s an emergency, but she should be here. She should be here and she’s not.

Her voice in my ear stops my pulse and restarts it. “Hey, Zach.”

I take several centering breaths and I still sound like I’m being strangled. She sounds okay. Doesn’t sound hurt. Calm down. “Where are you?”

“Oh, I hopped on the bus already.” My eyes tick to the row of windows. There she is, her giant bow peeking over the sill of the very last one. She pinkie waves at me. “Hi.”

Absently, I hear Miguel asking the group of cheerleaders if they’ve seen Jill and my hand squeezes around the phone until it creaks. He’s going to ask her to homecoming. I’ve seen it coming. But the closer the day gets, the harder it gets for me not to deck the motherfucker. And the worst part is, he’s a pretty nice guy. I’d even let my sister date him. But him with Jill? Agonizing. “Why are you on the bus early? Was someone bothering you?”

“No. No, not at all. I, um…wanted to finish up this podcast. It’s about the mating habits of the Atlantic walrus. Fascinating stuff.”

My mouth threatens a smile.

That’s another thing about Jill. I might have been studying her for years. I might know her better than anyone. And I still never know what is going to come out of her mouth.

“Do you…” Her breath strokes my ear. “Do you want to be an early bird with me?”

Do I want to cram my enormous, sweaty body into a seat with her sweet-smelling, perfectly formed one? Yes, and no. Yes, because being with her is when I’m happiest. No, because won’t I repulse her? I’m not exactly at my freshest right now. And I’m always like a mountain in comparison to her. “You don’t want to sit with your friends?”

“You are my friend.” There’s a pause. “I-I mean…aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” I say gruffly.

Maybe not such a great one, though. Since I’ve been beating off to her relentlessly since eighth grade and spend a sick amount of time wondering what it would be like to slide my tongue through the softness of her pussy. Sitting next to her will be a cross between paradise and hell, but I can’t stand the thought of her questioning our friendship, so I stow my gear in the open luggage compartment and lumber onto the bus. My bulk hits every seat on my way to the rear of the vehicle and heat climbs my neck. But I forget everything and just try to breathe when I reach the final seat and there’s Jill, waiting for me with her sunshine smile.

“Great game,” Jill says, smoothing her cheerleading skirt.

I sit down beside her and try not to take up every inch of available space. “Thanks, Jilly Beans.” Our thighs press together and my dick turns rock hard, making it necessary to tug my jersey down to cover the growing bulge in my football pants. Breathe. “How was it on the sidelines?”

“Oh, you know.” She forces a laugh. “The usual.”

“No, I don’t know. What’s the usual?”

She makes a wishy-washy sound and I study the play of shadow and light on her beautiful face. “Some of the students do the chants, some of them just mock us.”

Something hardens in my throat. “This is the first I’m hearing of this.”

“It’s not a big deal. They probably just think…I don’t know. Because we’re cheerleaders and considered popular that we’re immune to criticism. Or we need to be taken down a peg.” She shrugs a shoulder. “It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t do it for them.”

“Who do you do it for?”

“You.” Twin spots appear on her cheeks. “I-I mean the team.”

Mainly the quarterback? I swallow that uncomfortable thought. “If anyone says something out of line, I want to know about it.”

She nods. “Okay.”

My teammates start to board the bus, followed by the laughing cheerleaders and coaches. Is it my imagination or does Jill sink down farther into the seat? Does she not want to be seen sitting next to me? “I can move,” I offer.

“Why?” She wets her lips. “Am I talking too much?”

“What?” I chuckle over her question. “No.”

Her shoulders relax. “Then…stay?”

If she asked me to ride home on the roof, I would do it. “All right.”

We both settle back against the seat and I go back to praying she doesn’t notice my hard-on. It’s a familiar position, but it never gets easier. I used to sit in the living room with Jill and Harper on the weekends during their movie marathons. Can’t do it now, though. Not with the way Jill sprawls out on the couch, always dressed in itty bitty shorts or leggings that leave nothing to the imagination. Now, whenever she’s in my house, I spend most of the time jerking off to the sound of her giggle drifting through my bedroom door.

If Jill knew the thoughts I’ve had, she definitely wouldn’t want to sit beside me.

She’d probably never set foot in my house again.

I’m distracted by a smattering of cheers and glance up toward the front of the bus where our kicker is hugging one of the cheerleaders in the aisle.

“He must have asked her to homecoming,” Jill murmurs, smiling. “That’s sweet.”

I grunt. “Is that how you’d like to be asked? On the bus?”

“I hadn’t thought of it.” She rakes her palms up and down her thighs. “It’s a lot of pressure, isn’t it? Going to the dance with someone. All those expectations…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She adjusts her bow nervously. “Sex. It’s all people seem to talk about lately, isn’t it? Who is doing it. Where. When. Why people haven’t done it yet.”

Barbed wire coils in my belly, sharp and dangerous. “Is someone pressuring you for sex?”

Her eyes shoot wide. “Me? No!” She seems to gather her thoughts. “But…everyone feels a little bit of pressure, don’t they? We’re eighteen now. We’re almost expected to be…exploring.”

It takes me a moment for the tension to ebb from my gut. If someone had been pressuring her for anything, I would have beat the stuffing out of them. And that would have only been the beginning. Thankfully that doesn’t seem to be the case. Not entirely, anyway.

“Hey, Jilly Beans.” I tip her chin up to make sure I have her attention. “You don’t have to do a damn thing until you’re ready.”

“What if I am ready?” she whispers, sounding out of breath. “For sex.”

Christ.My cock throbs, producing moisture at the tip. I have to grit my teeth. But at the same time, my heart is breaking. How long until I have to watch her with another guy? She’s always been blessedly single. Look at her, though. She’s fucking gorgeous. Throw in her sense of humor, quirks and sweet personality and she’s irresistible. How long did I reasonably expect her to be alone? How is she alone at all? “I don’t know, Jill,” I say quietly.

“It would have to be someone I trust.”

“Yeah,” I say hoarsely.

She looks up at me through her eyelashes. “The thing is, you’re the only guy I trust.”

It takes me a moment to decipher the words that come out of Jill’s mouth. Mostly because I can’t fathom she means what she’s saying. Maybe I’ve been fantasizing about her for so long, my brain is starting to send mixed signals around the real life girl? I know she’s not interested in me sexually. That would be insane. Wouldn’t it? Keep dreaming.

But then she touches me.

Her fingertips trail up the center of my chest. “What about you, Zach? Have you ever thought about…exploring? With someone you trust?”

My balls squeeze up into my stomach and I briefly see double. This isn’t real. Jill can’t be asking me to hook up. I must be dreaming. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

Hurt flashes in her eyes. “No.” She starts to take her hand back, the color deepening on her cheeks. “Maybe you don’t trust me.”

I snare her wrist.

And in doing so, I accidentally let go of the hem of my shirt.

Her eyes dart to my lap. Of course they do. My embarrassingly large dick is stretching the nylon crotch of my football pants so thin, you can make out the veins, the ridges, the spot of semen I couldn’t hold back.

I expect her to be horrified. She should be horrified. This guy she’s supposed to trust, this guy she innocently invited to sit beside her, has been aroused the whole time.

Never in a million years do I expect her to touch it.

“Zach,” she breathes, squeezing my cock in her little hand, sliding her palm up and down the thick ridge. Fondling me. “Y-you do want to…to experiment with me?”

There’s a wet sponge stuck in my throat, so all I can do is nod.

She’s not just an angel. She’s a saint. I can’t believe she’d even think about doing this for me. Does she have any clue I’ve been sick with hunger over her since puberty?

I’ve spent so long trying to subdue my lust for Jill, the sudden unfettered onslaught of it threatens to wipe my mind clean. But my first instinct is always to protect her, so I turn my body slightly, blocking her from view of anyone who might venture to the back of the bus. I reach down and blindly pull a sweatshirt from her cheerleading bag, positioning it over my lap and she strokes me underneath it, her hand working me through the nylon. And I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t fucking believe it.

Eyes glassy, she leans up and whispers in my ear. “Can I put my hand inside your pants?”

Oh my God.

“Yes,” I choke out. “But I’m going to…I-I’m going to…”

“Come?” she breathes, delving her hand inside the nylon and gripping my bare shaft.

My head falls back against the seat, my jaw tightened to the point of pain. Jill’s hand is on my cock. She’s touching my cock. Stroking it top to bottom, her breaths pelting my neck. I know there is something I should be doing here, but I’m totally immobile, at the mercy of her warm, curious fingertips, the way she tests different speeds, different pressures. I look down and watch her slender forearm move, the sweatshirt lifting up and down in my lap with every stroke. Oh my God, I’ve got about ten seconds left, but I bear down and try to hold on. This might never happen again. All I’ll have is this memory of the time she caught me with an erection and had pity on me.

“Does it feel good?” she asks against my shoulder.

“So good,” I say in a burst, sweating breaking out on my forehead. “Ahh baby. Faster.”

“Baby,” she echoes dreamily, beating me off quicker, quicker, precome greasing her palm. “Can you kiss me while I’m touching you?”

That’s what I’m supposed to be doing.

At least, that’s what my instinct tells me. I probably haven’t tried to kiss her, because the whole possibility of her wanting my lips on hers has always seemed unfathomable. But with my balls growing tighter, fuller, and the impossible already taking place, I turn my head, dip down and seal our mouths together. She whimpers in her throat, her hand briefly pausing on my cock, before continuing with her perfect, perfect pumps.

Swear to God, there’s nothing softer than her mouth. I can’t deal with it. I can’t deal with her mouth and her curious tongue while she’s jacking me off. It’s too much good at once and my head spins, my muscles growing taut.

“Your hand is so soft,” I grit out.

My first hand job. Her first, too.

Both of our first kiss.

And we don’t waste time trying to determine the correct technique. Maybe I would have if I wasn’t seconds from spilling everywhere. But I am. God, I am. So the kiss is wet and frantic, our lips parting on unsteady inhales, her innocent tongue branding mine. Lapping at it, little sobs breaking from her throat. I’m shocked to my fucking bones how bad she seems to want it, her lips parting so wide for me, as if inviting me to take everything she is.

To make her mine.

What if she parts her thighs as wide as her lips?

What if she opens them for me, right here on the back of the bus?

As soon as I’m picturing her cheerleading skirt hiked up, her pussy out in the open, invitation in her eyes, the come erupts from the head of my cock. Fuckohfuckohfuck.

I have to tear my mouth away from her sweet, beautiful one and throw my back up against the seat, hips rolling into her grip, doing everything I can to keep from moaning. “I’m sorry,” I bite out. “I c-can’t stop…”

“I don’t want you to,” she whispers.

Her eyes are arrested on my face, excited. She isn’t grossed out by the sticky moisture I’m spurting into her hand, the sheer abundance of it. No, she seems to be almost proud of herself. And it makes me come harder. Longer. Until my well has finally been pumped dry.

We’re both breathing hard, her eyes bright, my lids at half mast.

I have to say something, but I have no idea what. Thank you would be a start. But I’m so worried I’ll follow it up with I worship you, I love everything about you, I hesitate—

And then the bus groans to a stop in our school parking lot.

I didn’t even know we were moving.

In front of us, football players start standing and I quickly fix my pants, watching as Jill propels herself into motion, wiping her hand on the sweatshirt, balling it up and stuffing it into her bag. Is she smiling? It looks like it, but she ducks her head and I can’t see.

It’s probably just wishful thinking.

As soon as everyone in the seats in front of us have cleared out, I stand and gesture for her to precede me into the aisle. Yeah, I’m a real gentleman. I’ve just let this virgin beat me off on the back of the bus where anyone could have seen. I would have gotten high fived over it, while she would have been ridiculed. But at least I let her walk in front of me, right?

You’re supposed to be better than this, asshole.

“Thanks,” she says, brushing past me, bag slung over her shoulder.

That’s when I notice her nipples are hard against her cheerleading top.

There are goosebumps on her arms, her thighs. She’s trembling.

Jill is turned on—by me. Which is shocking enough. But the fact that I’ve done nothing for her, nothing to satisfy her, hits me like a ton of bricks. Jesus, am I really so selfish? I have to fix this. Now. “Jilly Beans, I—”

“Jill!” one of the cheerleaders calls from the front of the bus. “Come on, I’m starving.”

“Oh, that’s right,” she mutters to herself, before turning back to me. “The squad is going to the diner. I forgot.”

Normally I would drive her home. I always drive her home. It’s my job.

But hell, maybe she wants to get away from the selfish asshole who was too overcome with lust to return the favor she paid him. “Right,” I say, clearing my throat hard. God, I can’t even look at her, I’m so ashamed of myself. Tonight might have been my one and only chance to touch Jill and I fucking blew it. “Will you just…text me to let me know when you’re home safe?”

I chance a look up and find her eyes sparkling. “Yes.”

“Inside with the door locked.”

“I know, Zach.” She turns to leave, but stops and looks back at me. “Um. I’m spending the night at your house tomorrow night. A few of us girls are.” She chews her lip, appearing to work up some courage. The toes of her white sneakers are climbing over each other, her body shifting side to side. “Maybe we can do m-more…exploring?”

Jesus.

Is this for real?

Yeah, I think it is. I think Jill is curious about sex and like she said, I’m the only one she trusts. I’m the guy she’s chosen to experiment with. And I need to remember that Jill wanting to learn about her sexual urges safely doesn’t mean she has feelings for me.

Not like the obsessive ones I have for her.

There is a very real chance that getting physical with Jill could make it harder when she moves on someday. When she finds someone perfect like her.

I’m just here for practice.

But I can’t say no. I’m not that strong. I’m already hard again just thinking of her using me to get off. Using me over and over and over again. Like her personal servant.

“I’ll be exploring you next time, Jill,” I say hoarsely.

Her kiss-swollen lips puff open, a tremble passing through her. God, look at her. She’s horny we hell. She’s a horny girl and I get to service her needs. Maybe she doesn’t want me to be her boyfriend or anything public, but a guy like me getting this lucky happens once in a lifetime. So while my heart might ache like a fishing hook is stuck in the side, there is no way I’ll complain.

“See you tomorrow night, Zach.” She turns on a heel, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her. “I’ll text you later.”

And she does. At eleven oh-nine.

Home safe. xo

I groan at those two little letters—xo—and roll over onto my stomach, pumping roughly into my fist with my open mouth pressed to the screen of my phone.