Page 17 of Bump and Run

Five

Junior

Eliza Pierce touched my dick.

I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to be in class right now but I honestly can’t tell you which one.

All I can think about is the way she quivered when I pressed her against those lockers. Pink cheeks. Glistening, sinful eyes. If the coach hadn’t of come in at that moment, she probably would have dropped to her knees and—

I feel a sharp punch on my shoulder, instantly bringing me out of my Eliza spiral.

“Hey, little brother.”

I glance up from my table and I smile. “Hey, Mag.”

Maggie slides into the chair across from me with a cup of cart coffee in each hand. “What are you doing over here?” she asks. “You’re staring off into space like a crazy person.”

Maggie is four years older than me but she ages so well that most people think I’m older than she is. She’s got that cutesy vibe to her, along with a child-like voice and baby-fat cheeks, so she’s always had an issue with people not taking her seriously. Luckily, she’s got me and I’m more than willing to correct anyone that even scoffs in her direction.

“Just killing time,” I shrug, glancing around the very active student union food court. It was just coincidence that I happened to walk in here at the same time Eliza and her dad did. She hasn’t noticed me even though I’ve been gawking at them from across the room for the last twenty minutes.

She raises an eyebrow. “Wanna talk about it?”

And that’s Maggie. She got her degree in Psychology before I even set foot here and she’s going through the graduate program now but she’s had a thing for Freud since we were kids. She was my very own Lucy from Charlie Brown, charging me a nickel for every problem of mine she solved.

“There’s nothing to talk about yet,” I claim.

“But we’re almost two weeks into the semester,” she argues. “Surely, you have some girl problem to throw at me.”

I feel Eliza’s phantom touch on my cock and my eyes twitch across the room at her. The coach says something and she laughs back at him, although I can’t really tell if it’s genuine or forced. “I have a date tonight,” I say. “Maybe I’ll have something for you at lunch on Sunday.”

Maggie rubs her palms together. “Ooh, a date tonight? With whom?”

“Wait until Sunday, Mag,” I tease.

She sits back in disappointment. “Fine. Here—” Her hand slides the second coffee across the table at me. “You can have this. Nate was supposed to meet me ten minutes ago but he’s not here yet, so it’s forfeited to you.”

“Thanks.” I palm the cup, letting the warmth tickle my fingers. “What’s he up to nowadays?”

“Same old, same old,” she murmurs, rolling her eyes.

I laugh. Maggie met Nate three days into her freshman year and they’ve been dating ever since. They’re ridiculously happy together and possibly the very definition of relationship goals but Maggie secretly wishes she’d experimented a little before latching onto him so fast. That’s why she grills me about all my hook-ups at our weekly Sunday lunches — she lives vicariously through my many, many mistakes.

My eyes float to Eliza again and a shock teases my system. She’s looking right at me but she quickly looks away the second we make eye contact.

“Is that the new coach?” Maggie asks, pointing across the room at their table.

“Yeah, that’s him.” I shift my gaze to him instead. “You should have heard the squeal in Dad’s voice when I told him who my new coach was…”

“I can imagine,” she chuckles, taking a sip from her coffee. “Who’s the girl?”

“I don’t know.”

I force a shrug, feeling the rush of words filling my throat. Talking to Maggie about my problems is just about the only good habit I have but I don’t want her analyzing Eliza Pierce right now. “Look, I gotta get going. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye, little brother.”

“Bye, Mag.” I slide the untouched coffee back over to her and she takes it to give to Nate.

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