11. Dallas

Dallas

I shouldn't be here. How many times am I going to think that and still come here? I don't know. All I know is I'm still frustrated and angry because Colt is making me feel things I just... I can't feel them.

I shouldn't.

But I'm still here, showing up at his house at six o'clock on a Saturday. Benny tried to ask me about the last two times I was here, but I skirted around it each time. I haven't told him much of anything, which makes me feel even worse. Benny hasn't pushed me on it, but I feel like it's just a matter of time.

He doesn't trust Colt, so I know he's worried.

Still, I push the thoughts about Benny away and knock on the door, my spine skittering with nervous, excited energy. When Colt opens the door, a grin on his oh-so-handsome face, it kicks up a whole notch.

My heart is like a hummingbird in my chest, making my knees a little weak, just looking at him. "Hey, come on in."

I can't form words, so I just do that, and he closes the door behind me. He moves back around me, and I realize I haven't made it very far from the front door.

"Go ahead." He's smiling in almost a teasing way, and I'm not sure what he's about to say. "Gloat."

"Gloat?" I ask, confused but still feeling pretty light and definitely still excited to be here. I like that he smiles at me now. No glaring, and you know... being a little scary and intimidating.

"Yeah, the game last night. You guys did good." He folds his arms over his chest, not moving any closer to me. His smile is bright, and I can tell he's happy.

"You were at the game last night?"

His smile falls, and he drops his arms to his sides, looking like he wants to move closer to me. But he must recognize something on my face and stays put. "It was totally by accident, I swear."

"How do you end up at a football game on accident?" He was there? I try like hell not to panic. This is not how I wanted or thought tonight would go. But my parents were at that game last night. The team. God, what if they'd have seen him—the guy who mysteriously showed up at practice. And now, he's at an away game. Though I guess it was a home game for him.

"Dallas." My eyes snap up at the sound of his voice, and I realize he's moved closer to me now, standing about a foot in front of me and looking really concerned. "Chloe was kind of tired last night. She looked down, so I wanted to do something to cheer her up." I try to hang on to his words and listen to him speak as my breathing picks up a little bit. I'm not sure what Chloe has to do with this. "She was a cheerleader and loves football, so I suggested we go to the Kensley game."

"Kensley," I say dumbly, still struggling to breathe, the panic of what could have happened bubbling up. Even though, logically, I know he wouldn't have come near me there, and my parents wouldn't have seen anything, but it's the what-ifs.

"Yes. Kensley. We even wore red." His eyes are on me, and I want to look away from him, embarrassed by my stupid panic, but I keep my eyes locked on him instead. "I had no idea who they were playing or even if they'd be playing at home until we got there. I swear."

I believe him. I don't believe anyone ever. I don't trust anyone. Hell, I barely even trusted Benny when he first decided we were going to be friends. And still to this day, it's hard for me to believe he actually wants to be my friend. But I believe Colt. I can see it on his face that he didn't know. "Did you bring your foam finger this time?"

I can see the relief on his face as his smile returns. "Nope. Sadly, I left it at home." I smile back at him, and then he says, "Christian really liked it."

My eyes widen, and there's that pressing feeling in my chest again. Christian? As in... oh God. I've been pushing the whole reason we know each other—the reason we're getting to know each other—to the back of my mind. Trying to ignore it like the true coward I am. "C-Christian was there? At the game?"

He's watching me carefully as he answers, "Yes. And Chloe."

Right. Duh. Of course Christian was there . "He... he was there." I say it again because for some reason my mind is stuck.

"Hey," he says softly, and I realize he's moved closer to me, his hand on my shoulder, but that's not what's making me panic. "It's okay. I'm sorry. Breathe for me."

I am breathing, but way too damn fast. I close my eyes and try really hard to calm myself down. So what if Christian was at my football game? It doesn't matter. But it does because it makes it all too real.

"Dallas, please." I hear him pleading with me, and it's enough to open my eyes. He's leaned into me. His eyes are on my face and one hand on my left shoulder, but his other hand is over my rapidly beating heart. "Breathe with me," he says, and I look down, focusing on his chest as he takes a deep breath in, and then I watch as he pushes air out, which draws my attention to his firm lips. They're so perfect. Strong and masculine. There's a hint of stubble on his jaw and around his mouth. "That's better."

I realize as I've been watching him, my breaths have slowed way down, and I can feel the heat of his hand pressed over my heart. Can he tell my heart rate has slowed?

I watch as he watches me, but my eyes move again from his eyes down to his lips. For once, I just want to do something for me. Something I want to do. Just for me.

"Dallas..." he breathes, our mouths inching closer. He wants to kiss me, I realize. I want that so damn badly too. I just have to let myself have it.

"Colt..." I say his name just as I lean forward a little more and take what I want. Except I don't. Not really, because I don't know what the hell I'm doing. Eighteen years old and totally pathetic. I brush my lips over his softly but whimper when the reality of my inexperience hits me.

But he doesn't let me wallow and run away. I feel his nose drag against mine, his lips brushing over mine again. They're firm and soft. He does the motion a few times, guiding me with his lips. Showing me just what to do.

I follow. I kiss him back softly, letting our lips press together, feeling every single excited tingle. His hand is still over my heart, but he doesn't move it anywhere else, just lets it sit there. And I'm sure it's beating harder and faster now for a whole new reason.

With every pass of his lips over mine, I relax into his body, my hands resting on his hips as my lips part slowly. It's all so new to me. So damn foreign, but my body ratches up with the need to just feel.

Our kiss deepens as I follow his lead when I feel his tongue running along the seam of my barely parted lips. It's totally on instinct that I open them more, letting him in. But he doesn't force his tongue down my throat. His kiss is sweet and exploratory.

I think he's holding back for me. I think he knows—he has to know—it's my first kiss. But he can't know the things I'm feeling right now.

The dam breaks free, and I kiss him back harder, sweeping my tongue over his, stroking it with intense need. He moans into my mouth, a deep rough timbre, and I nearly burst into flames because I did that.

My cock is rock-hard, pressing against the confines of my jeans and begging to be let free. It's almost painful with how badly I need relief, but I'm terrified to try. I'm hot all over, needy and desperate, as I push my body into his, pulling him into me at the same time.

He kisses me hard, not holding back as much. One of his hands slides down over my back, the other still placed firmly over my heart. I realize I'm grinding against him now, a whimpering, needy mess.

I want this so bad. It feels so damn good, but not quite what I need. I don't know what the hell I need. I don't want this to be like all the times I've tried to get off alone, when the scary thoughts of doubt creep into my head and ruin it.

I can feel the hot need creeping down my spine. I'm so close as I rub against Colt's hardness, loving that I'm doing that to him. That he wants me. Even if it's just lust.

Part of him wants me and wants me badly.

I want him too.

This is wrong.

No.

I don't want to ruin this. I keep kissing him, my hands going up to his hair and feeling the silky dark locks and my fingers scraping against his scalp. I hold him close to me.

You can't do this.

No.

I won't let these thoughts break through.

If anyone finds out, you'll lose everything.

I tear my lips away from his, a strangled scream of frustration breaking from my lips. Colt looks shaken and terrified as he stares at me, clearly stunned by my sudden change.

Why the hell can't I just have this one thing?

Why do I have to ruin everything?