GIN AND JUICE pt 8

You stuck your head out of the door to look left and right, searching for people who might have seen him in the hall. Satisfied that no one was there and no one had come by, you grabbed his hand and ripped his arm forward, dragging Shawn into your dorm room. You both started talking at the same time.

“How did you know where I live?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything….”

“Wait, how did you get up to this floor?”

“I feel like such an idiot for lying…”

“CAN SOMEONE EXPLAIN WHAT THE **** IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?!”

You and Shawn both stopped dead at Caroline’s raised voice and looked over at her. If this had been a cartoon, steam would have been pouring out of her ears. Her eyes were wild and she seemed to be somewhere between shock and white, hot rage. You had never heard Caroline yell that loud before. Taking the initiative for the both of you because she was your roommate after all, you stepped between the two of them.

“Uhh, Caroline. This is Shawn,” you said, bracing for immediate impact.

“I KNOW WHO THE **** HE IS, BUT WHY IS HE HERE? WHY IS HE AT OUR DOOR REFUSING TO LEAVE?” she yelled, her whole face turning red with the force of her anger.

“You know, I’m standing right here…” Shawn said, scrubbing the back of his neck and staring at the ground. You cringed. He really needed to be quiet before Caroline went nuclear or spontaneously combusted into a pile of ash when she really let it sink in who was here. You punched his bicep, begging him to stop talking.

Caroline narrowed her eyes at the contact, knowing that you didn’t just touch casually someone. Her voice rang low and her words came out slow for emphasis, “someone better start explaining shit right the **** now.”

You sighed deeply, filling your lungs and slowly exhaling, crouching and folding your legs beneath you in one smooth motion. If you were going to explain this, it needed to be as grounded as possible—on the floor was apt for the situation at hand. They both looked at you and followed your lead. Shawn sat next to you, leaning against the armoire behind him, his knee touching yours. Caroline sat across from the both of you, judge, jury, and potential executioner if your story didn’t add up. Shawn reached out and threaded his fingers with yours, squeezing three times for reassurance.

The tale poured out of you with a couple of minor adjustments. When you found Shawn in the bathroom, he was just drunk like everyone else at that party. You didn’t tell her that last night, when he texted, his words had so descended into gibberish you were lucky to have found him. As far as she knew, Shawn was a well-adjusted, perfectly stable, high-profile football player. Kismet had brought you together twice that first night and now you were powerless to stop it. It all sounded so much more romantic this way, which is how Caroline needed to hear it.

“Caroline, you can’t say anything about this to anyone. We want to keep it a secret,” you felt Shawn tense at this last bit, but you kept going, “can you do that for me? As my roommate and most trusted confidant?”

She was already nodding her head before you finished the question. Practically vibrating with excited energy, she launched herself at you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

“I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU AND OF COURSE I WILL KEEP YOUR SECRET,” she yelled in your ear. You flinched away from her face, trying to keep your hearing intact, and giggled, wiping moisture from your eyes when you realized you were crying. She immediately switched to Concerned Caroline, giving you whiplash, “oh my God, are you okay? Why are you crying?”

“It’s nothing, I’m just…really happy right now,” you waved off her concern. You looked over at Shawn and he was playing with the seam of his skinny jeans, leaving you to have a moment with your roommate. Squeezing his hand, you pulled his attention over and smiled.

Caroline, looking between the two of you, cleared her throat, “ahem, okay, well I’m going to…I’m going to go get a coffee…or lunch…or whatever…I’m just gonna leave you two alone.” You giggled at her failed attempt at being smooth, “thanks, Caroline.”

The silence was profound when she clicked the lock behind her. You both were still on the floor, your hand wrapped in his. It wasn’t awkward, but there was so much between you left over from this morning that the air was thick with words unsaid. You took your hand back and stood up, starting to pace back and forth between your desk and your bed. He stayed on the floor, fidgeting, picking at the carpet and giving you time to put your thoughts together.

“So, wait,” you said, narrowing your eyes and crossing your arms in your best interrogation pose, “how did you know what dorm I live in?” His eyes went wide, and he stood up, his turn to start pacing. “So, I tried three dorms on the way here,” he mumbled, scuffing his shoes along the floor like kicking invisible rocks, “I just walked in and went up to the desk and asked if you lived in the building. It’s amazing how free people are with information when they recognize your face.

“But, yeah. I hit this dorm last and the girl said you were on the eighth floor. I waited outside the buzz door,” you opened your mouth to protest about someone seeing him, but he put a finger up, “with my hoodie pulled up, until someone left the door open long enough for me to sneak in.”

“Sounds creepy.” The corners of your mouth tugged upward, “but I guess that makes sense…I hear your name whispered in these halls more than the Lord God Almighty so, I guess it was like giving information to Jesus.” His eyes bugged out of his head a little and he cleared his throat, never having heard you sass before. His easy blush began to bloom across his cheeks and you had to stifle a giggle. You weren’t sure if he was reacting to your words that he would naturally find embarrassing or the fact that you were the one that said them.

Walking toward him, moving toward that safe armor that he embodied so fully, that you just wanted to be close to, you realized that your earlier waves of anxiety seemed to melt away when he was in front of you. You had always felt like an untethered buoy floating aimlessly in the ocean. The closer you floated to someone else, the stronger the waves would become, keeping you apart. But, with Shawn, he wasn’t another buoy, but a net that caught you, embraced you, consumed you, in a way that no other person had.

“Soooo,” he stalled, you could tell he knew he had to say this, had to address it, but not really knowing how to start, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth about the punch.” He wasn’t looking at you, wildly looking for something to focus on, before settling on a university football schedule on Caroline’s side of the room. It seemed to calm him while he got out what he needed to say. “I knew it would upset you and I wanted to protect you from the dumb shit that goes on even though I was obviously an idiot because I should have known you’d get more upset by me keeping it from you and Zubin, that fucker, trust me you never have to see him again if you don’t want to I will kick his *** all the way out of the house if you ever want to come over…” He stopped and took a long, gasping breath, seeming to just realize he hadn’t paused that whole time, “I mean, not to presume that you even want to have anything to do with me now…”

You closed the space between the two of you and cupped his jaw with your hands. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, tension flowing out of his body, exhaling in one long stream. When he opened his eyes again, you were there with him, all in, “I’m not mad at you. I can even understand why you did it,” you breathed, preparing yourself to say something that you’d never really said to anyone, “but, if we’re going to do this, no more lies, no more half-truths. For either of us. I said I was happy earlier, and that is absolutely true. But neither of us can be happy for very long if we think the other might lie or keep secrets again. We think it protects the other person, but the truth will out and then everyone gets hurt.”

He smiled down at you, nodding, turning his head to place a soft kiss on your palm and angling his forehead to rest against yours. He inhaled, breathing you in, “you’re happy?”

“Yes,” you giggled, releasing him and watching him frown from the separation, “I mean I’m always on the edge of panic, but when you’re here with me it doesn’t seem quite so imminent. The tide recedes and I can breathe.”

Shawn pulled you to his chest, crushing you against him. The pressure was comforting, that feeling of being consumed by him taking over. You wondered if he could make room for you, if you could crawl inside of his armor with him and disappear—become someone else when you were with him. You felt his breath catch in his chest, the edge of a question hanging in the air.

“What were you gonna ask?” you asked, looking up at him and resting your chin against his sternum. He met your eyes and studied you for a second, deciding if he was going to ask or not. Your heart fluttered, nerves starting to creep in from the shadows. What if it was too much for him? Too soon? Oh, God.

“Uhm, do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow?” he asked, too fast to be casual. The nerves retreated so swiftly that you felt temporarily lighter than air. Laughter bubbled inside of you, expelling from your lungs in a burst that made him jump. It was so unexpected, so rare a sound that you surprised yourself, bringing your hand up to cover your smile. A shadow of uncertainty cast over his face, forcing you to pull yourself together and take his hands in yours, rubbing his still bruised knuckles, “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I’m just…yes. Yes, I’ll come over for dinner tomorrow.”

The uncertainty retreated and was replaced by his signature, eye-crinkling smile that you realized wasn’t necessarily just for you, but was for the moments when he felt free of all the things that made him chase the dark. When he smiled for you, the light within him shone so bright you almost had to look away, and you were left melancholy knowing that no one else got the privilege of seeing it.

“Really?” he asked earnestly, wide eyes expecting an answer.

“Yes, really,” you replied, feeling your cheeks bloom hot and red in response to his excitement. He immediately started to fidget again, unable to contain his nervous energy.

“Okay, okay. Be there at 7?”

* * * * * * * * * *

It was 6:59 PM when she knocked on his front door. When Shawn first swung it open, all he could see was blue. She was wearing a cobalt sweater with dark denim that made her eyes look darker, like deep pools of clear ocean water at midnight. Her hair fell in loose waves on her shoulders, framing her face. Always so expressive, her eyes were nervous and unsure.

“Uhm, can I come in?” That snapped him out of his haze. He had been staring. Moving aside and letting her through, he shut the door against the November cold and watched her shiver a little, adjusting to the warmth of the entryway. “There’s no one here,” he blurted, her shoulders visibly relaxing, “I kicked everyone out.”

His memories of her here were hazy at best, he recalled the party in vivid detail before and after his jumbled, incoherent text messages, but he couldn’t remember quite how he had gotten from the porch to his bed. He knew she had helped him, apparently other people had seen her, but he was happy that he had tonight to rewrite her memories of his house—to write new memories of her in his house.

“Food is in the kitchen,” he said, snapping out of his head and  holding his hand out to her, “I hope you like sushi.” She slipped her hand into his and, still nervous, mumbled, “I love sushi.” He smiled, guiding her to the kitchen in comfortable silence.

He had maybe gone a little overboard when he ordered dinner. The counter was covered in takeout boxes. He wasn’t sure what she would like so he ordered…one of everything. Well, not everything, but a significant portion of the menu. She stopped at the door beside him and gasped.

“Uhm, I didn’t know what you liked…”

“What…on earth?” she asked, mouth agape at the scene in front of her, “Shawn, there’s no way we can eat all of this.” She stepped farther into the kitchen to survey her options. He saw her pick out a California roll, salmon nigiri, and some gyoza to start. Grabbing three containers of whatever was closest, they sat at the little dining table where he’d made two makeshift place settings, something hard to comeby in a house full of football players who had no manners.

“So,” he said, revving up for a normal conversation, something they had possibly never had, “how was your day?” She snorted, pinching her lips together to swallow a giggle, “it was fine. I had Brit Lit and Biz Calc. I’m behind on reading.”

“Shit,” he looked at her with humor in his eyes, “I just realized that we’ve never done the ‘college meet and greet’ stuff. Let’s do this quick and dirty. Hi, I play football. I’m a sophomore and I’m majoring in physical therapy. I take a lot of night classes to minimize disruption, which is embarrassing to say but after I walked into a normal class and the professor couldn’t lecture because the whispers were deafening, I decided to change my schedule.”

She shoved a piece of nigiri into her mouth to puzzle over that tidbit for a moment. He was sure she didn’t want to think about all of the attention that he stirred up. When he walked around campus, the eyes felt like weights, all of them recognized him and all of them knew he was special, knew he was there to carry his team—and all of them—to victory. That kind of attention was completely foreign to her and he would never want to force her into that situation. He had been a little hurt earlier when she made Caroline promise to keep their secret, but he also knew that coming out as The Quarterback’s Girlfriend would push her into a spotlight that she not only didn’t want, but felt repulsed by. It scared her and he was determined to do everything in his power to protect her from that kind of torture. It was going to be hard now that the team knew her face and thought they knew the nature of their relationship, but he would deal with it.

“So,” she set her chopsticks down when she’d finished chewing, “I’m a freshman, majoring in literature, and when I’m not reading or studying for class, I like to watch old 90s movies.” She smiled into her glass of water before taking a drink. It didn’t surprise him that she was a Lit major. He had noticed her carrying around a worn novel yesterday and had wondered if it was for class or for fun. He chuckled to himself, picking up a piece of chicken katsu and chewing.

“What?” she asked, looking a little indignant, “I like old movies!” He burst out laughing at her misinterpretation, “no, no, no it’s not the movies…I just can’t imagine reading novels for fun.”

She gasped, slapping a hand to her heart, “et tu, Brute?” Looking at her quizzically, he flipped through what little he knew of pop culture references to figure out what she was trying to say and coming up blank. “OH MY GOD,” she yelled, “IT’S SHAKESPEARE. I can’t believe I’m going to have to educate you. Now I understand why people think jocks are mindless brutes.”

“Hey!” he said, with his own sense of indignance, “I know plenty about the human body and biology. I just don’t happen to enjoy reading for fun. I’d rather exercise.” She sat back with her arms across her chest, her mouth set in the most adorable pout. He mimicked her, sitting back in his chair and quirking an eyebrow, “is this our first fight?”

She snorted again. He was really starting to enjoy that sound. “Look,” he said, with just a touch of honey in his voice to persuade, “I’ll make you a deal. I will read any book you give me, if you’ll go on a run with me in the morning.” She cocked her head, studying him critically, like there was some other catch that she might be missing. She stuck her hand out across the table, deciding to chance it.

“Deal.”

“Awesome,” he took her hand, shaking on it and pulling it to his lips, sealing it with a kiss, “I run at 6 AM.” He grinned maniacally, watching her eyes widen and her mouth drop open. She clearly was not a morning person. This was going to be fun.

“You know, I should make you read Tolstoy for this,” she pointed at him, like he had a clue what that meant. When he was silent for awhile, avoiding her eyes, she sighed deeply, “I’m just…we’ll work up to it.”

After breaking the ice with their deal, the conversation flowed easily after that. Shawn talked about football practice and his roommates; she told him about meeting Caroline the first time, having to endure her overwhelming need to hug. They laughed together. He used his hands too much when he talked, regaling her with stories of being an awkward, quiet kid that happened to be good at sports. She rested her chin on her hands, almost wistfully, when she told him about her mom and how strong she was raising a kid without anyone to help after her dad died. When they got up almost two hours later to clear the table and put away the still towering mountain of leftover food, it felt natural, casual like they’d been doing this for months. If they had stopped to listen, they could have heard another wall collapsing, another barrier falling to the growing magnetism between them.

“Want to pick a movie?” he asked when the kitchen was put back together and they had moved into the living room. Her eyes widened when he handed her the remote, but he didn’t care what she picked as long as she curled into his side eventually. Settling on Romeo + Juliet, “to start your education,” she said, they stretched out on the giant L-shaped couch, comfortably close but not touching. Honestly, he had no idea what was going on in the movie, all he knew was he didn’t really understand what they were talking about and everyone was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. Mostly he just watched her, hanging on every change of expression on her face. Occasionally, she would mouth the words to the dialogue and fold her hands over her heart, swept up in it. He had finally reached his breaking point when she shed a tear after Leonardo DiCaprio’s best friend died. He held his arms out and let her curl into his lap, her back pressed close to his chest. When the movie ended and her back shook against him, he turned her body around  to face him. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “I’m not sure where that came from. I’ve seen this movie like a hundred times.” He wiped the tears from her face with his fingertips, loving the fact that she could be this vulnerable with him. It made him feel like he could be vulnerable. “It’s okay,” he pressed his lips to her forehead, hearing her short intake of breath in surprise. He hadn’t tried to kiss her in her dorm room, wanting to give her as much space as possible, but it had been difficult. Now that he knew what it felt like to have her mouth on his, the freedom he felt being that close to her, it was hard to resist the temptation to permanently attach his mouth to her skin, to always be able to breathe her in.

He waited for her to take the initiative, to want to accelerate. Slowly, she moved her hands from his chest and threaded them in his mussed curls, pulling his lips from her forehead and pressing them against hers. He opened for her immediately, shifting his head to the side and letting her delve into his mouth with her tongue. His hands circled around her back, holding her to him in a tight embrace, no longer sure where his body ended and hers began. She had wrapped her legs around him, straddling his lap, and he could feel her body heating for him, because of him, calling his name on every frequency.

When she had finished exploring his mouth, she broke away, heaving, and began kissing a wet trail of open-mouth kisses down his throat, stopping to suck at the base. He wondered where she’d learned to do that before hissing, knowing she was leaving a mark. His hands shot to her loose waves, dipping his head to hers and inhaling, flooding his senses with her wild floral scent. She detached herself from his neck, pausing to lick at the purple oval he knew she was admiring. He groaned, encouraging her with his sounds, as she slipped her hands from his hair to the back of his neck, pulling back slightly to look at him. She was panting, hair wild with his fingers still braided in it, looking wanton with flushed cheeks and swollen lips. They locked eyes, her deep blue to his darkened milk chocolate, and he waited for her, knowing this moment would break him either way.

“Shawn,” she whispered, her breath falling gently across his face like soft fingertips, “take me upstairs.”

AUTHORS NOTE *****

The next episode will be smutty. This is my first time writing smut series so if you like the story so far please let me know!!!!!!!

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