Page 47 of False Start

But it all pales in comparison to what I’ve had with Austin since that first kiss. God, I can’t stop thinking about kissing him. Even when I’m mad at him, I want to kiss him.

He must have heard my thoughts because my phone rings. When I see it’s a video call from Austin, I don’t hesitate to answer, even if our last conversation runs through my mind and pinches at my heart.

“Hey,” I say softly, taking in all his features. His hair is windblown, and it looks like he’s walking on campus somewhere.

“Hey. I have one more class but realized we hadn’t talked yet today.”

Yeah, because I’m pissed. I guess that’s how I deal—just avoid, avoid, avoid. “Yeah, sorry. Today was a little crazy.”

“Yeah?” His smile breaks my heart. I hate this. “Did you get to play the sports today?”

I give in and laugh at that because he’s ridiculous. “Yup. For a whole hour.”

His smile is even more vibrant now. “That’s good. I’m glad. And how are classes going?”

I shrug but show him my notes anyway. “I’m studying the hierarchy of needs right now.”

“Oh, talk dirty to me,” he teases, and I laugh.

“See now, if that turns you on, we might have a real problem.”Damn it, Vaughn. Don’t flirt. We’re mad.

But I can’t help but think how adorable his blush is when his eyes meet mine through the phone screen. “Everything you say pretty much turns me on. I can’t stop thinking about last weekend.”

He’s a little quieter now when he’s talking about sex, but as great as the sex was, when I think about this last weekend, my mind goes to him shutting me down so fiercely.

“I can’t wait to do it again this weekend.”

I swallow hard, dread spreading through me as I clear my throat and reach back with my hand, gripping my neck. “Um... about that...”

His face falls. “What’s the matter?”

You won’t let me fucking love you and show the world how much I love you, I think but I don’t say. “Nothing. I was just um, thinking...” Why is this so difficult? He didn’t have any problem telling me how it was going to be when I wanted to take him as my date to the party. He shut it down quickly, and he keeps doing it.

I’m not stupid. I know he knows every time I’m about to tell him how much I love him, and he puts a stop to it. I do love him, but I can’t put up with that forever. I want to be able to love who I love loudly. I get that he’s scared—probably more for me than for himself—but I don’t live my life that way.

He should know better. I face everything head-on. I don’t hide, and I don’t want to hide him like some sort of a shameful secret. What we have is beautiful. I’m not ashamed.

“What? You were thinking what?” he prods, and I can hear the worry and how his voice has gone to a higher pitch.

“I, uh... I think we should probably take the weekend off. You have to be tired of driving so far, and I don’t want you to fall behind at school. I know you said you have it under control, but I know how important school is to you.”

There. I said it. I got the words out. I watch his face as he processes what I just said, and I hate the worry I see there. The pain. “Oh.” I’m not strong enough for this. I just want to make it better. Make his face stop contorting in the anguish I see. “Okay.So I’ll stay here this weekend, and you’ll go to the party with your team. That’s good. Really good. Great.”

And now he’s rambling. Great. Just fan-fucking-tastic. I really upset him. “Just this one weekend. I’m sure you need to study.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Shit, are his eyes watering? Please tell me he’s not going to cry because of me. “You’re right. I probably should have been strong enough to stay away last weekend. This will be good.”

If he saysgoodone more time, I’m going to scream. He’s obviously not good. I’m not either. I love that he showed up last weekend. That he couldn’t stay away. It was the best surprise of my life. But... he doesn’t want us to be a couple.

I know I need to stay firm, but I also hate the look on his face right now. “I’m glad you came here last weekend. Ilovedit.” Please just let me tell you how much I love you. I silently plead with him.

If he did, I’m pretty sure I’d be putty in his hands—hell, I already pretty much am, but I think I need the weekend. I need to go to the party by myself and maybe get used to the fact that Austin may never actually want there to be anus.

Maybe he just wanted someone he’s close to for discovering all these new things. Maybe he doesn’t really want to be a couple.

The bitterness squeezes my insides and actually physically hurts.

“Do you have a costume? For the party?” His voice sounds strained, and his face is showing how hard it is for him to ask.

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