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“Want to talk about it?” I asked, sitting down next to him. “I’m a good listener.”
He leaned forward and rested his face in his hands. I wanted to touch him, to offer comfort, but I wasn’t sure if he’d welcome any kind of physical contact. So I kept my hands to myself.
For a while he said nothing; we just sat there in silence. Me listening to the sounds of the night and him lost in thought. Just as I was about to stand and leave him to whatever was eating him up, he spoke.
“I miss him.”
“Your Dad?” I remembered our email conversation and my stomach clenched. As much as it felt like I’d lost my dad, at least he was still breathing and if I really needed him, we could talk.
“Yes. Everything’s…gone to shit now…he’s gone. I hate him for taking the easy way out.” He kicked some gravel with the toe of his sneaker. “He…shouldn’t have left us.” Pain and anger emanated from him in waves. There was nothing I could say that would make this better for him, so I reached out and squeezed his bicep, feeling how tense he was.
“I’m sorry,” I told him.
“Thank you,” he said in a low voice. Some of the anger bled out and he sounded calmer. “I should probably get back.”
“Yeah, it’s late.” I yawned. My own anxiety had faded and I was ready to sleep. We stood.
“I like your hair,” Brax said.
My cheeks flushed and I pushed a few loose strands away from my face. I didn’t think he’d noticed the new color. This was the first time we’d seen each other in a few days. Knowing he liked it made me feel all warm inside, which was a bit disturbing given I’d slept with his best friend less than 48 hours ago. I had no clue what was wrong with me. I was seriously losing the plot.
“Thanks.”
He smiled at me and grabbed my hand, stumbling a little. He was far stronger than me and the motion nearly pulled me into his hard body, but I managed to course correct in time. It would have been more sensible if I’d left him to find his own way back, but knowing how drunk he was, my conscience refused to allow it. I felt duty-bound to escort him back to his apartment.
He gave me some vague directions while leaning heavily against my slight frame. I tried to support his weight, but it was difficult. The guy was built like a linebacker. All muscle and bulk. He had to weigh at least 230 pounds whereas I was probably 110 at the most. We were fucked if he fell over. I’d have no choice but to abandon him to his fate. Or call the campus cops for assistance.
A couple of times we stumbled, and I had to lean against a wall to try and adjust my grip on his waist, but eventually, we reached his apartment. Before could say anything, the door swung open and Harley appeared wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sports shorts.
His eyebrows shot up at the sight of me with my arm around his friend’s waist.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Err I found him in a state, he’s been drinking. I couldn’t leave him like that, so I thought I better escort him back here.”
Harley cursed under his breath and took over the job of supporting Brax’s weight.
“Jesus, you weigh a fucking ton,” he muttered. I watched from the doorway as he maneuvered him across the apartment, making sure he was in safe hands before I left. Just as I was about to hightail it out of there, Quinn walked into the living room. His face lit up when he saw me.
“Stella! Come in!”
My face flamed with embarrassment. The last time I saw Quinn, my ass was glowing in the dark and I was in an extremely compromising position. There was no way I could look him in the eye.
“No, I’m good, thanks, I need to get to—”
He didn’t give me a chance to run. I was dragged inside their apartment and the door slammed in my wake. I felt like Goldilocks caught in the lair of the three bears. Fuck.
Chapter 33
Harley
The sight of Stella in our living room made me wonder if I’d somehow stepped into an alternate reality. Was I dreaming? If so, it was a delightful dream. She’d pretty much ghosted me since yesterday morning and I was beginning to think she was my Waterloo.
I wasn’t used to girls giving me the cold shoulder after sex. It had happened, like, never. I had mad skills in the bedroom, honed by many hundreds of hours spent fucking and watching porn. If I was an Airbnb apartment, I’d have rave reviews. I’d be a Super Host for sure.
Now she was here, I had a chance to find out what exactly her problem was. It definitely wasn’t the five orgasms I’d given her. Nope, nothing wrong in that department. I was also certain she hadn’t gone off me. I wasn’t blind. The way her eyes slid over my naked torso, lingering on my dick before she flushed redder than a tomato was enough to tell me she was still hot for Harley.
Good times awaited.
