Page 18 of Rocking the Receiver
“Fuck, you’re perfect.” His words are full of wonder, yet laced with pain. “You’re not gonna push me away again, are you?”
I shake my head, following him when he sits on his bed, lights up the blunt again, and passes it to me afterwards. Before I have a chance to inhale the smoke, I choke on it when he confesses, “I’m a virgin.”
My eyes widen. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Well, I haven’t told anyone, so I figured you, of all people, should know.”
“Riiight… Listen, I’m flattered that you’re sharing this with me, but our kiss doesn’t change anything between us, Elliot: We’re not gonna sleep together.”
“Why not? You said you wouldn’t reject me!” he exclaims, snatching the joint from my hand.
“I’m not. There are more reasons than I can count for not sleeping with you. For starters, I?—”
Before I can reply, he cuts me off, explaining his college conundrum. “Look, I get that punching a V-card isn’t the greatest experience, but I’m a fast learner… and I have to start somewhere.” He shrugs. “I trust you, and only you, to make it good for me… for us.” I’m amazed that he’s opening up so freely. That said, I can’t help but think that there are things he’s not saying. “I’ll… listen, comply, follow your… instructions. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.”
“You’re sweet, but sex won’t be happening.”
His free hand covers my crotch, gently squeezing. “I make you hard. Why deny it?”
“I’m not denying anything. I’m just giving you information, Elliot. Find someone your own age. Learn what you like—or don’t.”
“Like I said, I want to experience it withyou. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that I thought I’d prefer topping. Is that why you’re not okay with helping me out?”
I guffaw. “You’re definitely single-minded.” He beams, visibly thinking that his stubbornness is a charming quality. Well, maybe that’s what makes him a talented football player. I’m way too aroused and stoned to think straight. I hear myself blurt out, “If you must know, I’m a bottom.”
“See, we’re a match made in heaven! Strict bottom?” At this point, I’m not shocked anymore, just speechless. “Don’t think too hard!” he jokes. “I’d just really love to try both, just to confirm where my preference lies, you know.”
Finally, I repeat, “Elliot, we are not sleeping together. Period.”
“But we did agree you owed me three favors.” The beers he requested are all but forgotten; his pigheadedness is both cute and unnerving. “I can start with a blowjob, right now, if that’s what you want.”
Shaking my head in disbelief, I realize that his hand hasn’t left my stiffy. I don’t object to its current location. Regardless of the weed effect—or thanks to it?—I remain collected and counter, “We never agreed they would be sexual favors.”
“True, but what are friends with benefits for if no sex is involved?” He grunts. “Listen, you have no fucking idea how much I want you.” Hitched breaths. Crude words. Burning skin.
Of course, he makes his Puss in Boots eyes, straddles me, and bats his long lashes.
“Please…”
CHAPTER 10
HURRICANES
Elliot
Second quarter,we’re down by two touchdowns, but we have the ball. Davis, our rowdy, super blond, and massive quarterback, calls out the play, “Z-Post, on three. Ready, break!”
“Head in the game, E,” my awesome roommate and teammate, Chris, encourages me before jogging to the opposite side of the field. “We got this.”
“Right.” I tilt my head approvingly. Sweat trickles down my forehead. One more game to go before the end of the regular season.
Coach Stevens calls for a deep pass. Focused, I line up; this is my chance to make a difference. If we fuck this up, we won’t make it to the conference championship, and where would that leave us? A televised humiliation, that’s where. Against California at that… I wonder if Mom got cable to watch me play; she’s passionate enough that she manages to watch reruns of my games on repeat. My shoulders stiffen as the pressure builds. What would a miss say about my performance and future on this team?
Once the ball’s snapped, I sprint down the field, faking left, then cutting right past the cornerback.
I glance back just in time to see the ball spiraling towards me. “Got it!” I yell, stretching out, fingertips grazing the leather. Just as I’m about to reel it in, a defender appears out of nowhere, slams into me, and knocks it loose.
Fucker!I know he’s doing his job, but I seethe nonetheless.
