Page 1 of Holding On

Chapter One

Ethan

"Watch out, babe," I say as Kasey crawls on my lap in the back seat of the white Suburban. "You don't want to damage the goods."

She smiles, a lazy, drunk smile. "If I do any damage, I promise to kiss it and make it better."

I press my mouth to hers, and when she parts her lips, I taste the whiskey on her tongue. We just left a party and were downing shots like there's no tomorrow.

"What else you gonna do to me?" I ask.

Her mouth moves to my ear and she whispers the answer, every dirty detail. Looks like I made the right choice tonight.

When I first saw Kasey at the party, she looked all sweet and innocent in her pink cardigan sweater, tiny white t-shirt, and short black skirt. She looked like the virgin co-ed, waiting to be deflowered. But her eyes told a different story. She spotted me as soon as I walked in and gave me a look that told me she'd make my night if I gave her the chance. And from her words just now, I'm glad I did. This girl isn't one to hold back and neither am I. It's going to be a good night.

She hikes up her skirt and sinks down on my crotch, grinding against me. I'm straining against my jeans, ready to burst.

"Hurry your ass up," I yell at Jason as he gets in the front seat. "We need to get to the cabin."

He fumbles with the keys, trying to get them in the ignition. It makes me wonder if he's not sober enough to drive. He said he was fine but I saw him take a shot right before we left the party and I know he had a few beers before that.

I lean forward toward Jason. "You sure you're good to drive?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm good," he says sarcastically.

"Just a question, asshole." I nudge the back of his seat with my knee. "Don't need to get all bent out of shape over it."

Lyndsay runs out of the frat house where the party's going on and hops in the front seat next to Jason. "Are we leaving or what?"

He leans over and kisses her. "We couldn't exactly leave until you were done in the bathroom."

She smiles. "I was fixing my makeup."

"You don't need makeup." He kisses her again.

"We seriously need to get going," I say to Jason as Kasey undoes my belt. "Otherwise I'm going to be doing shit back here I'm pretty sure you don't want me doing."

Jason's head whips back as he puts the car into drive. "You get any bodily fluids back there and you'll be buying me a new Suburban."

I laugh. He's obsessed with keeping this thing clean. If he ever got a scratch on it, he'd have a damn heart attack.

"I'm not kidding, man." He takes off down the road. "I'm keeping my eye on you." He glances at me in the rearview mirror but all he can see is the back of Kasey, who continues to grind into my lap, her hand now down my jeans.

"Slow down," I say, pulling her hand away.

"Why?" She pouts. "You don't like it?"

I nod toward Jason. "He wasn't kidding. He'll kill me if we do anything back here."

The Suburban is Jason's baby. He loves it about as much as he loves Lyndsay, his girlfriend of almost three years. They met at freshman orientation and have been together ever since. The guys on the team always give him shit, saying he's missing out on all the girls ready and willing to give themselves to him. He's our star running back so girls are always trying to get with him, hoping to lure him away from Lyndsay. But he's never cheated on her. He's loved her since the day they met, and now he's talking about marriage, saying he's going to propose next year.

I think he's fucking crazy. We're only 21. Who the hell even thinks about marriage at our age? This is the time to be carefree and reckless. Make bad decisions and chalk it up to life experience. Live like today's your last.

That's how I approach life, but it wasn't always that way. Growing up, I did what I was told. I lived dutifully under my parents' dictatorship, following their rules, being the perfect son. But after 18 years, I couldn't take it anymore. I went behind their backs and secretly applied to Laytham, a private college in small town Ohio, thousands of miles from L.A.

It wasn't the plan. Not even close. I was supposed to go to UCLA or USC, both close to home and highly rated football schools. I'd hone my skills on the field while my controlling father watched me with a critical eye, outlining everything I did wrong and what I'd need to do to get better. As if he had any clue how to coach someone in football. Being a sports agent doesn't make you a goddamn expert in the game. It just means you know how to be enough of an asshole in negotiations to get your clients what they want.

When my dad found out about Laytham, he was pissed. He called up the president of the school and demanded they rescind their offer. But it was too late. I'd already accepted and signed on to play quarterback in exchange for a full ride scholarship. A few months earlier, I'd met with the coach. He flew out to L.A. just to meet with me. Normally, he'd talk to a recruit's parents before giving an offer but I warned him that doing so would mean I'd never play for his team. My dad would do everything in his power to stop it. My only option was to go behind their backs, which was allowed because I was 18, so technically an adult.

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