Page 55 of Off Sides

After stripping my hoodie off and changing into sweats, I sit back on my bed and turn my TV and Xbox on. Joey stands in the middle of the room looking awkward as fuck.

I raise an eyebrow at him. “Whatcha doing?”

He rocks back and forth a few times and shoves his hands in his pockets before he finally blurts out, “I don’t know how to be friends with you. I don’t know where to sit or how much touching is too much or?—”

“Joey.” My hard tone makes him stop rambling, hopefully stops the spiraling thoughts in his head. “Come here.”

As if on instinct, he walks to the bed and stops when it’s touching his legs but doesn’t climb on. He’s breathing too hard and there’s a crease between his eyebrows. My poor boy is locked in his head and fighting himself on what he wants versus what he thinks is okay.

Sitting up on my knees, I shuffle toward him and grab the front of his hoodie to jerk him into my space. “I have no limits on you touching me. I need touch. So sit on this fucking bed or wrap yourself around me like an octopus, I don’t care. Get out of your head and do what you want to for once.”

With his gaze locked on mine, he slowly lifts his hands to my cheeks, and leans down to press his lips to mine. His eyes don’t close, so I force mine to stay open too. He doesn’t deepen it, just a gentle press, hold, and release before he starts again. It rips my chest open to see him hesitant. Like he’s afraid I’ll take back what I said and push him away or demand more. There’s already too many people demanding too much of him. As much as I want him to be mine, I can’t have him. Not really.

Once again, someone who means the world to me doesn’t need me like I need them.

The thought steals my breath, aches in my bones, and despite knowing it’s going to hurt later, I reach for him. Sliding my hands under his shirt, he gasps into my mouth when my palms meet his flesh.

I need him to need me.

The contact doesn’t turn frenzied, or lust-driven. He’s hard and so am I, but neither of us move to take the step. I think we both just need this right now. The contact, the anchor into this moment where there isn’t sports or family or obligations.

This…whatever it is, was supposed to be easy. No feelings, just pleasure. Why did that have to change? Why did my heart decide that we couldn’t live without this man?

I slide my hands up his back and dig my fingertips into his muscles then drag them back down. He groans into the kiss and pulls back to lean his forehead against mine.

Joey’s eyes are shut now and his forehead is scrunched up like he’s confused or fighting something in his mind.

“What is it?” I whisper, nudging his nose with mine.

“I feel like I’m leading you on or taking advantage because I don’t know what I want. Everything you’ve offered me seems too good to be true and I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’m waiting for you to get fed up with my crap or get taken from me.” He takes a deep breath and his shoulders sag in defeat. “I’m afraid of you.”

He’s so fucking perfect it hurts.

“Let me worry about me. I know you just need to be here, and that’s okay.” I grip his waist and bite at his chin to get a chuckle from him. I smile when it works. “You don’t owe me anything, Joey. You don’t have to be any certain way with me. Just be you.”

He runs his fingers through my hair, then pushes me back on the bed. I settle back against the pillow I’ve wadded up and watch him strip off his hoodie before laying down on top of me, shoving his face in the crook of my neck and sighing. His arms slide under me and he cocks one leg between mine. It’s really fucking comfortable and even though I planned to cuddle while watching a movie, a nap sounds perfect.

He settles and adjusts a little before his breathing evens out, and I find myself slipping into sleep too.

21

Joey

The shrill ring of an old-fashioned phone wakes me from the best sleep I’ve had in weeks. Nick’s cologne fills my lungs and I don’t want to extract myself from him. He’s warm and comfortable and here.

The ringing stops but immediately starts up again. Shit. That means it’s either Charlotte or Mom. I kiss Nick’s chest and force myself to get up. He grumbles and tries to roll us onto our sides, but I manage to get off the bed and dig through my hoodie before it hangs up again.

“Hello?” I try to whisper, but my sleep-roughened voice cracks and I have to try again. “Hello?”

“Where the hell have you been? Mom is losing it!” Charlotte is damn near hysterical and I’m instantly awake.

“What happened?” I pace the length of the dorm room and my gut clenches. Did Matt finally hurt someone? Did he hurt himself worse than usual?

Charlotte breaks down and sobs for a second before pulling herself back together.

“He ran a fucking backhoe into a tree because he was high. This time the police were called, so he was arrested after getting treated for a concussion!” she all but screams into the phone and my stomach sinks to the floor. Motherfucker. What the hell is it going to take for that kid to get his shit together? Does he realize he could have hurt someone, not just himself?

Frustration burns through me and makes my hands shake. I want to punch something, yell, cause damage. There’s nothing I can do. Literally nothing. I’m hours away with no car, no money, no means to help him.

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