Chapter Eighteen

"C ome on, it will be fun." I give Clayton my best puppy dog eyes.

"You know I hate parties. You hate them too," he reminds me.

"The party is at your house, dummy. Come on. Please?" I fold my hands in front of me and bat my eyes.

"Why do you want to go to this party so bad?" he asks.

"It's Halloween. I love dressing up. One year, I convinced Kellan to go as Tweedle Dee, and I went as Tweedle Dumb. It was so much fun."

He snorts, shaking his head. "You had that backward. The only dumb one in that duo is Cooper."

"I don't disagree with that statement," Peyton says, coming back into the room with drinks.

I have been spending most of my time at Clayton's, so Peyton started joining me. The place is definitely cleaner with us here.

"Why do girls feel the need to dress up? I would much rather watch a movie in my room. Or even better, yours since there won't be a party going on."

I blush. He hasn't spent any real time in my room since I've been sick. Sometimes at night, my mind replays being sprawled across his chest. The feel of his skin on mine. Or the one that gets me really wet is the feel of my breasts against his chest.

Then I feel guilty as fuck for thinking about my friend that way. It's a vicious cycle.

"You're high if you think the dorms will be quiet. Come on, be a team player. I'm going to be Enid because of my obviously bubbly personality. Grace is going to be Wednesday because, well, she doesn't talk much to strangers, and she would look hot in all black. You can be Xavier or Tyler."

He frowns. "Who?"

Peyton gasps dramatically. "You haven't seen the show? What the hell, Clayton?"

"I don't watch television unless it's hockey. I don't have time for that other shit," he mumbles.

It only makes me smile. He's not lying. We watched Escape from New York the other night and he said he had never seen it. I couldn't believe it. So naturally we watched the second one too.

"He would have to be Xavier," I tell Peyton. "Tyler is a no-go. Can't have that."

Peyton winks at me. "I see. You want the one perfect for our girl. Makes sense."

"Peyton," I warn as I feel my cheeks redden.

She smiles innocently. "Cora would agree. It's the best outfit."

I look back at Clayton. He is glaring at me.

"Please," I plead, keeping up my sweet face until he breaks.

He finally sighs. "How much is this going to cost me?"

"Nothing." I smile and clap my hands. "Seriously. We can make it work with what you have. I can pick up a striped jacket."

"Well, Xavier has long hair," Peyton reminds me.

Clayton gives me a what did she say? look.

"He has it pulled back a lot, so it'll be fine. He doesn't have to look perfect. It's not a contest." I give Peyton a shut up look.

She smiles. "It's settled then."

Clayton groans, laying his head on my shoulder. "I'm going to regret this aren't I?"

I lay my head on top of his. "Possibly, but I promise it will be fun."

"What are you doing to me? I never used to join in on these things."

"I'm bringing joy to your life, so you better act like you like it, otherwise I'll call your mama."

He chuckles. "I can't believe she gave you her number. My own mother betrayed me."

"She loves me. Plus, she knows that you were spending your entire life on hockey and school and not enjoying any of it. Now you go on outings with your friends and play video games with the guys."

He pulls back, looking down at me with a soft smile. "Yeah. I guess it's not all bad. The guys and I are playing better. I think it's because we've gotten closer."

"See. I'm even helping your hockey game. I'm a wizard."

"Wouldn't it be a witch on account you don't have a penis?" Peyton asks.

"Hey, whose side are you on?" I ask her.

She shrugs.

We stop talking when we hear footsteps on the stairs. Not the steps themselves. That's common in Clayton's house. It's the fact that they are trying to be sneaky. I pop to my knees, leaning against Clayton as I look back at the hallway. Clayton is turned as well, while Peyton has her head propped on the back of the couch.

Slowly, a figure appears. It's a gorgeous blonde chick, her high heels in her hand. She winces when she sees all of us and pauses.

"Um, hi?"

"Hi, Emery. You need a ride home?" Clayton asks.

"No. My dorm isn't far," she whispers, looking behind her.

"At least take my flats by the door. I have a spare pair in Clayton's room," I tell her.

She looks at me. "Are you sure?"

I smile. "You are the one who let me borrow her skates, right?"

I look to Clayton for confirmation, and he nods.

She finally smiles back. "Oh, that was you?"

"It was, seriously, thank you. I had a blast."

"I'm glad, and that was nothing. I'll take you up on the flats, though. I'll bring them by another time."

"No rush," I assure her.

When the door closes behind her, I turn to Clayton. "So who did she just sneak out on?"

He gives me a knowing smile. "Brett. That's your tea girl."

My eyes widen. "Seriously? She doesn't seem like the type to barter."

"Oh, she didn't. He was full of shit. He's been looking for a reason to talk to her. He told her you were sick, and she wanted to help. I'm surprised he finally got her in bed."

"Why? He sleeps with everyone," Peyton pipes in.

"Not anymore. Seems our boy's been bitten by the love bug and only has eyes for one girl."

"Holy shit," I murmur.

"Right?"

Things around here are never dull, that's for sure.

I don't know why I agreed to this.

I pull at the jacket the girls made me put on. I look stupid, but the smile on Grace's face made it worth it. I can look silly for a couple of hours for her. She promised me we only had to stay for two hours.

She just wants to have a few drinks and dance. I don't drink during the season, so I agreed to make sure both girls were safe. It's not a hardship. I don't really want to be here anyway, so it makes sense that I stick by Grace's side.

It's a Thursday night, though, and we have a big day tomorrow. After practice, we have to get on a bus for our away game on Saturday. The long drive is the only reason I'm not in my room right now. I should be able to rest on the bus.

"Stop looking like such a grump. I'm supposed to be the grumpy one," she teases.

I won't lie. She's hot as hell in her little black schoolgirl outfit. Add in the dual braids over her shoulders, and she is looking like something out of a wet dream. She already stars in some of mine, no matter how hard I try to keep her out of my head.

"This jacket is hot. Can I take it off?"

She laughs. "Fine, but a few pictures first, please."

"Hurry."

She pulls Peyton over, then grabs the guys. All of a sudden, our little group turns into the entire team as people take picture after picture with us. Kellan is even here, looking like he is already halfway drunk. The kid isn't smart. None of the other guys are drinking because they know what it will do. He is going to be throwing up at practice tomorrow. He better feel better by the game on Sunday. He's lucky it isn't a Saturday game, or he would be shit out of luck tomorrow.

"Sorry," Grace says as she squeezes closer to me from the front.

"All good, Shorty." My hand finds her hip.

"I can't see you, Grace," Brett says, helping the random partygoer to get the picture right.

I glance and see she's hidden behind the people kneeling in front of us. The disadvantage of being so short, I suppose. My arms wrap around her stomach as I pick her up, making her giggle.

"Better?" I ask.

Brett nods. "Good to go. No one move."

I rest my head on Grace's shoulder as he runs over to get into position. The photographer takes a few photos before holding the phone out. Brett approves them, sending everyone on their way. I don't quite let Grace down yet, though.

"One of just us?" I ask.

She smiles. "Okay."

I set her on her feet, pulling out my phone. With my arms still wrapped around her, I call Brett over. "Take one of us."

He nods, taking the phone. Then he turns it toward us. Grace's breath catches when she sees the photo on my lock screen. It's the one of us from when we slept on the couch. I don't know why, but I like looking at it. We look so peaceful. Content.

I use my thumb to unlock it, handing it back to him. He steps a few steps back, then takes a few photos. When he hands my phone back, I know my lock screen is going to change. We look so carefree. Happy.

I make the change quickly before thanking Brett.

He heads off into the crowd, likely looking for his new obsession. I don't think Emery will show up tonight, though. She takes her figure skating as seriously as I do hockey. Or did.

"You can take it off now," Grace whispers as she turns in my arms.

Her cheeks are red, her eyes are glassy, and I smile down at her. Slipping out of the jacket, I toss it in the corner of the room. I'll find it later.

Then I grab Grace's hand.

"You have pictures. You have been drinking. Now I think dancing is all that's left, then we can hang out upstairs, right?" I smirk at her.

"You suck the fun out of everything," she teases, but grabs my hand, leading me to the dance floor, a.k.a. the living room we cleared out.

Peyton is already there, dancing with one of the football players. She winks at me as Grace turns, pressing her ass into my crotch. My hand automatically falls to her hip as she begins to bump and grind to the music.

"Grace," I hiss in her ear as my dick grows uncomfortably hard in my pants.

I really need to pull back, but fuck, it feels good. I've only ever had my own hand on my dick. Some girls have tried to cop a feel, but I've never done anything like this. I mean, I know how it's supposed to happen. I've seen porn, and my mama had the talk with me, but this feels different. Better somehow.

Grace throws her head back on my shoulder, looking up at me. God, I want to kiss her. Right now, in front of anyone. Fuck the consequences.

"Are you drunk?" I whisper against her ear.

She shakes her head no as she raises her voice. "I only had one."

I nod, then nip her ear a little. "If you keep grinding on me like that, this friendship is going to get really fucking awkward."

I pull back, looking into her eyes. Fuck, she's not looking like that's a turn-off.

I'm supposed to be the responsible one here. I should tell her we can't do anything else, but instead, as she presses back, I press forward, and her mouth drops open. I wish it were quiet in here so I could hear the moans.

This is going too far. This is going to change everything between us. In this moment, I don't care, though.

The song changes, the beat still fast, as I get lost in Grace. My hands are at her hips, each of us grinding against one another.

My head falls to her shoulder as I feel myself come in my pants. I should be embarrassed, but fuck, it felt amazing. Better than anything I've managed myself.

She's still dancing, so I pull her until she stops moving against me.

"I need to go upstairs now. Don't get kidnapped while I change," I whisper.

She looks up at me, confused. Shaking my head, I lean back down.

"You just made me come in my pants. I can't stand here with a wet spot. It's bad enough people are going to be able to see it as I head for the stairs."

The smile slowly forms on her face until she's laughing. She's lucky she's so damn cute. Otherwise, I would be a little offended by her laughter.

Leaning forward, she grabs Peyton's arm. I tense, wondering what she is going to tell her. Peyton hands over her drink before going back to dancing with her partner.

Grace swings around in my arms before spilling the entire drink down my front. Now my shirt and pants are soaked. She looks up at me with a mischievous smile.

"Oops?"

This girl is something else. Solving my issue without even putting much effort into it. I swear, she is perfect.

"Beckett," I call to my friend, who is chatting up a girl on the edge of the floor.

He looks at me. I nod my head to Peyton, then mouth, "Keep an eye on her for me."

He glares, but then rolls his eyes and nods.

I grab Grace by the hand and lead her up to my room. As soon as the door is closed, I head toward the bathroom. Turning on the shower, I head back into my room to grab a change of clothes.

"Thank you for that, by the way," I tell her.

She smiles at me as she leans back on my bed, propped up by her arms. Her skirt is dangerously high, drawing my eyes to her creamy thighs.

Yeah, that changed something, all right. Now I'm going to want to go further, and neither of us is ready for that.

Fuck, I'm an idiot. I should have walked away.

"Get out of your head, Casanova," Grace demands.

My eyes meet hers. She trails her finger up her leg before playing with her skirt hem.

"Am I the first girl to ever get you off?" she asks in a soft voice.

"Yeah," I admit, my cheeks burning.

"Good. Now I want you to return the favor."

My eyes widen. "Excuse me?"

"I want you to return the favor. I've never had an orgasm from another person. I want you to be my first. It can be something we share." She nods as if the decision has been made.

"You've been drinking," I protest weakly.

"I'm not drunk, and that didn't stop you downstairs. It's only fair."

"What if this changes things between us? I like what we have."

She shrugs. "I lived that life once. Held back because of fear. One thing you taught me is that fear doesn't have to control you. If you want something, go for it. So I am." She moves until she is sitting on the bed, her arms now on her knees as she leans closer to me. "Are you going to make me come or not?"

I swallow hard. My dick is begging for another go, but this fucker got me into this in the first place. I should deny her. It would be the smart thing to do, but the lines between us have been blurred for a long time.

Moving to the bed, I lie on my side next to her. She lies back, looking over at me.

"We aren't having sex," I tell her.

"Of course not. You haven't even passed any of the bases yet. We aren't skipping to the end." She huffs.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask her, my hand hovering over her thigh.

Reaching down, she grabs my hand, placing it on her skin. She's warm. I knew this. I've slept next to the girl a few times now. I mean, she was sick most of those times, and the other time was a one-time fluke, but I remembered the feeling of her skin on mine. It's not something I'm likely to ever forget.

Slowly, I trail my fingers up her thigh until they disappears under her skirt. Her breathing picks up its pace at even this soft touch. She's so responsive. It's kind of addicting. I want to see what else I can make her body do.

When I reach her underwear, her legs naturally fall open. She's not wearing a thong or some lacy panties like other girls would in this situation. No, they feel soft, like silk, and they cover everything. I bring my hand to the top of them before sliding inside of them. Then I groan when I feel how slick she is.

I've heard the guys talk about girls being wet for them. It's a good thing. It means they are turned on.

Knowing that Grace is turned on because of me sends a shot of serotonin right to my head. Pleasing this girl has become my only mission. All protests from before are long gone. I'm going to make Grace scream my name.

I can see Grace staring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I can't look at her. Not when the most erotic sight I have ever seen is between her legs. I can't even see her pussy. All I can see is the way my hand looks buried under her skirt, inside her panties. The panties I'm now dying to see, but I don't want to push too far.

So instead, I focus on her. I slide my fingers through her wetness until I find her entrance. Then I circle it with my finger before moving back up to the top.

"I need you to tell me what feels good," I tell her, finally tearing my eyes away to meet hers.

She nods, reaching between her legs. She flips her skirt up, showing her black panties. Then she shoves her hand in her panties with mine, her hand on the back of mine, to guide my fingers to where she wants them.

I feel it then. A little bump. She moans as she presses my fingers into it. I make a circular motion, watching as her eyes fall into the back of her head. I do it again, making her moan.

I change the pace, pressing and rubbing, making note of everything that gets me a response. Soon her hands are at her breasts, pinching and pulling while my hand continues its task of getting her off.

Nudging her hand away from the breast closest to me, I lean down, biting her nipple through her shirt. She gasps, so I do it again, harder this time. That has her back arching off the bed, my name falling from her lips.

"Clay," she cries out, her body growing tight before completely relaxing.

I lie there with her, kissing her face as she comes down from her high.

That was the single hottest thing I've ever seen in my life. I want to do it again, if only to see that blissed-out look on her face again.

After a few moments, she looks up at me all shy all of a sudden. "I should, um, clean up."

I nod. "You can take a shower. It should be warm by now." I chuckle. "I'll take one next."

She nods, heading toward the bathroom.

"I'll drop some clothes inside the door for you."

She smiles, closing herself in the bathroom.

As soon as the door closes, I collapse against the bed. My fingers are still wet from her.

I wonder…

I stick them in my mouth, sucking her taste from my skin. I always thought it was weird when guys said they liked the taste of a girl. Now I get it.

I am so beyond fucked because I think Grace Myers just became my obsession.