Him (Him, #1)

by Sarina Bowen

Last I saw him, he was sucking on a bottle of whiskey like he was trying to make it come.

So weird

I want to pretend I still don’t have feelings for the guy.

It’s obvious I can’t be around Canning without wanting him. Without wanting more.

I’m a selfish bastard. Or maybe I’m a fucking masochist. Canning can’t give me what I want, but I still can’t stop myself from wanting it. I want whatever I can get—a conversation, a joke gift, a smile, anything. I might not be able to have the steak, but fuck it, I’m fine with some scraps.

A surge of joy builds low in my stomach. Just the idea of another crazy summer with Wesley…it can’t be true.

EEEEEE

We both snicker, and something hot and familiar clenches in my chest. I’ve missed this. Talking to Wes. Laughing with Wes.

“For your mouth,” I snarl. “On my ice you don’t use a slur of any kind.” I point toward the sin bin. “Get.”

I know thats righf

The way I’m dying to rip your clothes off and get inside you.

“Who does it for you, then? Like, what’s your type, looks-wise?” You. “Ah, I’m not picky.”

“Someone’s talking to you,” I mutter. And now I hate this app more than I thought possible. Competing for my friend’s attention isn’t fun. So

Jealousy jealously

I stick out a hand and he closes his fingers around it and squeezes. The pressure of his grasp calms me down. With

Gay

hands together to dust them off. Letting out a breath I don’t even know I’m holding,

HE SAID THE THING

And he’s really good-looking. Not Wes good-looking or anything, but—Jesus. Am I seriously sitting here comparing the level of attractiveness of the two guys beside me?

GAYGAYGAY

Eventually I wander back to the table, alcohol buzzing in my bloodstream as annoyance builds in my gut. Fuck this Sam guy. I take it back—he’s not decent. He seems to have no problem monopolizing my best friend’s time. Doesn’t even give a shit that they’re both ignoring me.

bro just admit you want him to kiss you

I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want Canning. The way I crave Canning.

own hand. There’s a warm feeling in my belly when I look at him. And it’s not just sexual. It’s…comfortable. Like we’re close even when he’s twenty yards ahead. I wear a consciousness of him like a second skin.

Without thinking too hard about it, I step forward and put both hands there, squeezing the muscle between his neck and shoulders. I dig my thumbs into his traps and push.

Cuteeeee

him. I’m a glutton for Jamie Canning.

I follow him, of course. He could lead me anywhere right now, and I wouldn’t argue.

I’m comfortable with him. I have fun with him. I’m not trying to impress anyone. It’s…easy. Like splashing in the lake. But with orgasms.

“And Advil. I have some in our room.” “Of course you do.”

I feel sick when I picture him leaving me. I feel sicker knowing I’m competing with not one, but two gender pools for his affection.

We both chuckle even as our lips meet again. And again. Finally I’m able to relax. His arms close around me and it feels like coming home.

“Do you think someone in Toronto might need a defensive coach?”

Then I go over to the closet we share and fish out Wes’s one polo shirt.

SO cute and family coded

Because it’s Wes. He’s not scary. And the things we do in bed are just plain hot.

Or an oar, because God knows it’s long and hard enough to single-handedly propel an entire fucking canoe.

I wasn’t exaggerating before. I’m addicted to Ryan Wesley.

folks, all of whom are eager to meet the coaches who are grooming their kids into champions.

GROOMING?!??!?

I can’t be with Jamie in Toronto. Because if we’re found out, there won’t be any reason for me to be in that city at all. I’m a fucking rookie, hoping to be lucky enough to make myself valuable to the team.

Bruh just be with your boyfriendd

Jamie Canning was my first crush and my first love. But he was never mine to have.

Warm skin slides against mine, and I know I’m home. Because home is with him.