"You just can't get over the Catholic schoolgirl thing, can you?"
"Of course not," he moans.
"Would it help if I actually bought a plaid skirt?"
"Oh, fuck yeah. If you text me and tell me you're wearing a little plaid skirt, I'll be like this all day."
He pushes his hardness against my leg.
"You're like that normally."
"I'll be even harder," he promises.
"Impossible."
"Feel how hard I am since I haven't seen you all day?" He yanks my skirt up around my waist and cups my ass with his hands, lifting me up against the wall and –
"Fuck, man." Tank's booming bass voice reverberates through the apartment.
"Shit, Colton," I squeal, pulling down my skirt.
Sable follows Tank out of her room wearing his football jersey, her hair in pigtails and carrying pom-poms. "The wall by the door?" Sable asks. "That's so cute. We did it there yesterday."
Sable stands with her pom-pom-carrying hand on her hip. When she juts her hip out to the side and cocks her head at us the way she does, she looks remarkably like a high school cheerleader.
"Thanks a lot for that image," Colton says. "I'll have to bleach my brain now."
"Dude, your brain? I just saw you with my roommate's skirt all hiked up," Sable says. "I'm pretty sure I could see her muff. I'm glad you got waxed, by the way, Cassie."
"I'm wearing underwear," I protest. "You could not see my muff. You only know I got waxed because you dragged me to your waxer." I smooth my hands over my skirt and fluff my hair.
Like a respectable lady.
"Should have hung a sock on the door," Tank grunts, shaking his head. "I told you."
"Is that still a thing?" Colton asks. He's standing there with an obvious hard-on, asking that question like we're all having a normal conversation and my roommate didn't just catch us very nearly fucking against the wall.
"I think it's a thing," Sable says.
"It's definitely a thing," Tank agrees firmly.
"Should we play cheerleader at your place, Jonathan?" Sable asks, twirling one pigtail around her finger.
"No, no, no. We'll leave." I pick up my bags of groceries from the floor and hand them to Sable. "You put these away. We'll give you some privacy."
"Sweet," Tank says, taking the bags right out of Sable's hands and peering inside.
"I'm going to need to get more groceries, aren't I?" I ask Colton once we're outside the door.
"Yeah, I'm afraid you should just assume that Tank has eaten whatever's in those bags," Colton says. "Unless it's that low-fat bullshit. Then you might be safe."
"Damn it."
Colton pushes me up against the hallway wall, putting his hand above my head and leaning down toward me. "So are you coming to my place to reward me for my good grade or what?"
"No way," I hiss. "We've almost made it through the summer without getting caught. I'm not finishing the semester with that kind of a bang, thanks."
Colton grins. "I have a better idea."
"I'm afraid of any ideas of yours."
"Let's go to the athletic center," Colton suggests.
"The tutoring rooms are locked afterhours," I say. "You know they don't give us keys."
Colton pulls his key ring out of his pocket. "I have a key," he says.
"To the tutoring rooms? How did you get one?"
"Not to the tutoring rooms."
"To where, then?"
"You'll see."
Inside the athletic center, I'm definitely nervous. It's mostly deserted afterhours, but it's not like we're running around at three in the morning or anything. There are definitely still people here. And those people could include Colton's teammates or his coaches. Or anyone else who might know who the two of us are.
This is a really stupid idea.
"What if someone sees us walking together?" I ask, putting several feet between us in the hallway.
"So?" Colton asks. "I'm doing awesome, getting good grades. Obviously you're a great tutor who gives me extra help during off hours."
I look over my shoulder at him to see him waggling his eyebrows at me and looking at me lasciviously.
"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm worried about people thinking," I hiss. "Where are we going?"
We round a corner near where the athletic director offices are. "Coach's office," Colton whispers.
I stop short. "No fucking way, you ass," I hiss. "I'm not doing it with you in your Coach's office."
"I'm kidding," he says. "God, you should have seen the look on your face."
"Bye," I say, turning around and walking the opposite direction.