Page 37 of The Only Goal

His ear pods are back in, and he’s concentrating on his job. I think he can tell I’m watching him, but he refuses to look.

I want to know what he’s thinking, but maybe I don’t.

Maybe he felt a charge between us too.

Maybe he didn’t.

Or maybe he stepped back because he remembered that I’m married to Hudson.

Shit, I’m married to Hudson.

The thought sits ugly inside me for a second.

My cheating spouse. Are we still married?

I don’t even know.

All I do know for sure is that every time Baxter pulls away from me, it hurts.

Gripping the frame, I want to ask him why he’s doing it again. I want to demand that he tell me why he walked away from our friendship back in high school.

I wanted to save it. Why weren’t you there when I desperately needed you? Why’d you tell me to go? Why’d you not tell me I was wrong that day?

CHAPTER 16

BAXTER

The summer before senior year…

I’ve never felt humiliation like it.

This can’t be happening.

I gape at my semen on Tammy’s face. I gape at her surprised look of horror.

Oh fuckity-fuck!

Swiping at her cheek, I desperately try to get that white goop off her skin but accidentally push some of it into her mouth.

Shit!

She makes a gagging noise, wiping at her lips while I try to clean my hands on the grass. She’s still straddling my legs, her boobs heaving as my dick gets limper by the second.

This is a nightmare. What do I say? What do I do?

I’m so fucking embarrassed!

Do I say that to her? Just own this shit or…?

She reaches for her bikini top, scrambling off my legs and turning her back so she can retie it. Her hands are shaking. So are mine. I wrestle my shorts back up and can’t think of one fucking thing to say. My mouth keeps opening to fill this awkward silence, but no words are coming out.

“Um…” Tammy glances over her shoulder, her smile tight and fake. “We should probably get home soon, right? Before it gets… dark.” She looks up at the sky, and we both cringe. Sunset is hours away. Neither of us are due home anytime soon. She’s bailing—as fast as she can.

I want to make it easy on her, but then I also don’t.

We should talk about this.

But… I still can’t think of anything to say. My throat is so swollen, I’m struggling to swallow, let alone form words.

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