Page 85 of Our Secret to Keep

“I’m not,” I fire back. “I just…”

He lifts his head, and dark hair falls before his green eyes. “What?”

“I don’t know.” I wave my hand. “Forget it.”

A beat passes, the tension in the air making my skin tingle. I instantly regret writing all of my feelings about River on the page.

What a stupid fucking exercise!

I wish the doctor hadn’t suggested it.

River clutches the book and sighs. “Do you have feelings for me?”

To avoid River’s question, I tip my head at the journal. Saying the words aloud feels too raw. Too real. He can figure it out for himself.

River reads the entries several times before his eyes meet mine. His chest rises and falls faster as if struggling to catch his breath. Is he having a fucking panic attack?

An alarm on his cell phone dings. He turns it off and tosses the book at my chest, rising from the grass and slinging the backpack over his shoulder. “Gotta go. I have another class.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say, deflated, hoping I haven’t ruined our friendship.

* * *

I can’t sit stillduring Criminology and tap my foot repeatedly on the floor. The raven-haired girl two chairs over whips her curly head, giving me a look that could turn a man to stone. Medusa tips her head at my shaky leg, and I narrow my eyes at her.

Yeah, I get it.

I’m annoying.

I would have bailed if I didn’t need the credit for this class. Letting River read my journal without him saying a word is fucking with my head. I should have answered his question.

Do you have feelings for me?

For the past hour, his words have rolled around in my head like a ping-pong ball. I honestly don’t know. Sure, I love River. He’s my best friend and rates higher on my list than family.

Do I have romantic feelings for him?

Maybe.

I pluck the journal from my backpack to distract my lingering thoughts and start writing. It’s surprisingly cathartic unleashing my inner demons on the page.

I can’t stop thinking about River. He left me in the quad, feeling like I was holding my limp dick. Everything has changed between us. Our dynamic is off, and he’s becoming distant.

I can’t lose him.

So, I sit in class, plotting my next video. He never comments on which one he likes. Never even acknowledges he got the text, leaving all of them on read. But when I lean against my bedroom wall and listen to him jerk off, he grunts the loudest at the ones I wear only my jersey.

I usually sit on a chair, completely naked except for the jersey, legs spread wide so he can see all of me. With my right hand, I touch my cock, just enough to tease him, rolling the pre-cum over my tip.

Then, I inch up my jersey, the pads of my fingers brushing my abs. I continue my slow exploration until he can see my nipples. And since he loves it when chicks touch his, I flick my finger over mine, one after the other.

Sometimes, I lick the pre-cum from my finger, eyes on the camera. A few times, I even swiped at my stomach after I finished and let him see me taste myself.

I wonder if he mimics my movements. Does he imagine I’m doing the same to his cock?

I enjoy his moans.

I want to watch him in action, but I feel weird asking. The videos I make in private are for his eyes alone, and so is his enjoyment. Yet, I can’t stop wondering how he looks while watching me on the screen.

---