Chapter Ten
Gabby
Monday morning comes way too soon. With my phone on Do Not Disturb, I miss Lauren’s increasingly irritated texts that she made it to our eight o’clock theory class after staying at the party much later than Jonathan and I had. She follows up with a voicemail. “Woman, I know J’s in town, but you can’t start ditching classes the third week of the semester. It looks bad. And I know everyone already gave you shit the first day about keeping your priorities straight. Not being here today isn’t helping your case.”
I roll my eyes as I listen to it, deciding to call her back later. That decision is cemented when Jonathan’s arms snake around my waist, and he pulls me toward him so he can dot kisses up my shoulder blade to my neck. “Who was that?” he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep.
“Lauren. She’s cranky I’m not in class right now.”
He plucks my phone from my hand and sets it on the pillow then pulls me down on the bed with him. Propping himself up over me, he brushes my hair out of my face. “I can’t say I agree with her,” he says and kisses me softly.
My hand slides up his shoulder and behind his neck so I can pull his lips to mine again. “Yeah, I’m not too broken up about it either.”
When his lips meet mine, he deepens the kiss right away, taking his time with my mouth, lavishing me with hot, wet, slow kisses. His hand strokes and massages its way over my body. First, long passes down my side before focusing on my breast, tugging and rolling my nipple until I groan, then sliding down farther and landing between my thighs.
I spread my legs, pushing up into his hand, and he rewards me with firmer contact, rubbing all over before sliding two fingers inside me. Between his kisses and the way he knows just how to touch me, I’m close to the edge by the time he reaches for a condom.
No words pass between us as he rolls it on and lines himself up. His eyes never leave mine as he presses all the way inside me on one long, slow push. My breath hitches at the exquisite fullness. His hands find mine, threading our fingers together and holding my hands next to my head on the pillow. My legs circle his hips, needing to hold him as close to me as possible.
He moves into me, keeping the pace slow to start, lifting and grinding each time his pelvis meets mine. His pupils are so large his eyes look almost black, glazed with lust and love, but he never looks away, even when he picks up the pace.
I force myself to keep my eyes open. To hold his gaze the entire time. To watch him as he gets closer, as he gets me closer. My breath comes in short pants, its rhythm matching his hips.
A low groan escapes his lips, and his eyes close for a second before he opens them again. His pace picks up, and I know he’s almost there. I squeeze my thighs around his hips, and my fingers dig into the backs of his hands.
He pushes in hard and holds himself there for a beat, then does it again twice more. The second thrust hits that spot inside me just right and triggers my own orgasm as he shudders above me, his fingers convulsively clutching mine.
When he collapses onto me, I release his hands and wrap my arms around him, clinging to him. His hands stroke down my sides, making no move to disengage. We have to say goodbye in just a few short hours, and I don’t want to let him go. At all.
“Oh good. You’re still alive,” Lauren says when I get back to our room Monday afternoon.
“Ha ha.” I shut the door behind me after dragging my suitcase through. But really, her sarcasm is the perfect antidote to my maudlin mood. Jonathan dropped me off at the dorm before heading to the airport, since I didn’t have my car with me.
I managed to get through this goodbye with minimal waterworks. I’m not entirely sure if that’s good, though. Apparently I’m getting more and more used to one of us leaving. Although, this separation will be one of our shorter ones, his unexpected inclusion in the festival this weekend bridging the long gap from August to October.
Lauren stands from her desk chair and follows me into my room, where she watches me dump the contents of my suitcase on the floor so I can slide it back under my bed. The pile of clothes goes into my laundry hamper. Which is now almost overflowing. I usually do laundry on the weekend.
With a sigh, I grab the card for the washer and dryer from my desk drawer. “Wanna come with me to do laundry? You can lecture me about skipping today there as easy as anywhere else.”
She stares at me for a second, then shrugs. “Sure. Let me grab mine too. There should be enough machines open for both of us on a Monday afternoon.”
We trudge down the stairs, dragging our hampers behind us. Lauren waits until we get our clothes started before crossing her arms and turning to face me again. “So. You got my messages?”
I push my hair behind my ears and cross my arms too. “Of course. My phone was on silent, not off.”
“If you were planning on skipping, you could’ve told me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t realize I needed your approval to skip classes.”
She sighs and gives me an exasperated look. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. What’s with the attitude? I thought we were friends.”
Running my hands over my face, I take a deep breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry. We are friends. I’m tired. And sad. And this semester already sucks.”
She snorts. “No, this semester is fine. It’s your relationship status that sucks.”
“Excuse me?”
With a wave of her hand, she dismisses the flash of anger caused by her words. “I just mean the long-distance part. Not the fact that you’re in a relationship. You know I like him. But …”
“But what?”
She shakes her head and turns away. “But nothing. Just that. Long-distance relationships are hard. I get it.”
Biting my lip, I suppress the urge to say, “Oh really?” I’m glad she’s not looking at me, because she’d see my inner bitch rising to the surface. And that’s not fair. Lauren’s trying to be a good friend. She doesn’t deserve a run-in with my inner bitch, even though it’s harder to keep her muzzled when I’m tired and frustrated and out of sorts.
I wait for her to say something else, but when she doesn’t, I move to the laundry room door. “Come on. We’ll come back in twenty minutes to switch things out. You can fill me in on whatever I missed in class today.”
“Yeah, sure.” She sounds as enthusiastic as I feel, but at least she’s not shutting me out entirely.
“Did Dr. Paulsen say anything about me not being there?” I ask as we head back upstairs to our room.
“No. He just sort of got this look on his face when he took attendance and you weren’t in your usual spot.”
“What kind of look?”
“I dunno. Annoyed, kinda. Or maybe disappointed. It’s not like the professors don’t know about the Tinnabulation festival this weekend. We weren’t the only students to go.”
I bump her shoulder with mine, giving her a sly grin. “But probably the only ones with backstage passes and invites to the exclusive parties.”
That finally provokes a smile in response. “Yeah. Zeke was super jealous when I told him who I met this weekend. Watch out. Some people might start being extra friendly in an attempt to get free tickets and party invites out of you the next time J’s in town.”
“Thanks for the warning.”
Reminding her about the fun she had this weekend dissolves the tension between us. We spend the rest of the afternoon catching up on homework and doing laundry before grabbing dinner and heading to the practice rooms. Lauren managed to get in some practicing this weekend, but I didn’t, and my lesson is tomorrow. I need to make sure I don’t look like a complete slacker, even if I did skip classes today.
Yeah, it’s only the third week. But it’s not like Jonathan’s going to be here every weekend. The next time I might skip because of him isn’t until October. If people want to get their panties in a twist, let them. It doesn’t mean I won’t work just as hard as ever if I choose to make my boyfriend a priority one weekend a month at the most.