Page 137 of Wrath

“That’s amazing. Which ones showed up this week?”

“Bama again, Auburn again. Clemson,” he says, like he’s surprised. “Also UT, Stanford.”

“Stanford. Holy shit! What were your stats like from before you came here? I feel like a slacker that I haven’t studied up.”

We walk through a shadow at the corner of the brick school building, and his hand grabs mine, squeezing for a second. He lets it go with a soft laugh. “Can’t stay away,” he rasps.

“Two more minutes,” I whisper.

“I’m gonna tackle you into the backseat. Honestly I’m not.” He laughs. “Sorta need the ice bath.”

“Did you get one in the locker room tonight?”

“Yeah. But only for a minute or two. Those shared metal tubs are pretty gross.”

I laugh. “I can imagine. We don’t get that rough in soccer.”

He looks at me with his head cocked sideways, a look on his face that says he’s tired but wanting me the same way I want him. “It’s good to see you. Miller.” His voice is low and husky. His damp hair is hanging in his eyes. I want to kiss him so bad, I feel almost dizzy.

“Let’s run to the car,” he murmurs. “Like it’s a race.”

“So I can lose?” I laugh.

“I’ll be slow. I’m already getting sore.”

“Let’s jog. But laugh like it’s a race?”I suggest.

“I can laugh.” He gives me another one of those smiles. It’s this small, sweet smile—like it’s only for me.

“Go now?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

We’re supposed to jog, but I pull ahead, and then he jets off in front of me a little. “Fucking liar,” I gasp.

He laughs, turning around to give me a teasing grin. He manages to turn around and still reach the Jeep before me.

“You’re a cheater,” I pant as he pulls the driver’s side door open.

“Get in.” He gives me an intense, almost-dazed look. Then we’re in the car and he’s just looking at me.

“Hey,” I whisper, smiling.

He leans down, putting his head in my lap, and locks his arms around my waist, squeezing me so tight it almost hurts.

“My Miller,” he whispers.

I stroke a hand through his hair, looking around as I do to be sure no one notices he’s leaning into my lap.

“Ezzie.” I hug him as well as I can without leaning over.Then he’s up. He’s looking at me—smiling at me—looking rueful as he cranks the car.

“I kept looking at you,” he whispers.

“I kept looking at you,” I say. “Couldn’t take my eyes off for a second. It was honestly...an art. Every week, I feel surprised again. And nervous again. But mostly surprised. You’re like a machine.”

He backs out of the parking spot. Then he takes my hand and squeezes. Then he brings it to his dick.

“Feel that machine?”he murmurs, pressing me against him.

---