Doing It Right (Babe Squad)

by Harloe Rae

“Give me sunshine, but don’t steal the clouds. For the brightest spots are truly appreciated after several days stuck under muted hues.”—Presley Drake

This man has been mine since we were thirteen. He’s all I’ve ever known. My first for everything that truly matters to a girl. The love of my life. And now, my soon-to-be-ex.

The sun is just beginning to rise on this dreadful day that’s ripping us apart. Glowing streaks crack across the horizon, putting an end to the darkness. That approaching light promises warmth and comfort, but all I feel is the shattering of my own heart.

I sniff at the burn in my nose. “Why is this so hard?” Mason’s lopsided grin wobbles ever so slightly. “Because we love each other.”

My grip on his shirt tightens, a throb pulsing through my fingers from the effort. “I don’t want to let go.” “Me either, Pep.” His lips dust my forehead with the words. “But it’s for the best.” I’m not sure who I’m trying to convince with that statement.

He hugs me impossibly closer until I can hear the thundering riot in his chest. “You could come with me.” Across the country. Away from my family and the town we grew up in. Ditching the plans I’ve made for myself. The offer still tempts me, even after I’ve already decided against it on countless occasions. ...

We’ve discussed the possibilities for months, ever since he accepted the full-ride scholarship in California. It’s the best deal, offering a solid shot for him to play professionally after graduation. That’s his ultimate dream—...

I recently acknowledged that there has always been an expiration date on our relationship. He’s destined to find legendary glory under the stadium lights. There’s no guarantee I’ll find...

We’re too young. Too different. Too stubborn with our own goals.

We could try long-distance, but he doesn’t need the tether of a girlfriend rooted halfway across the country. I’d hate to question his fidelity for even a second. It’s better this way, even if we’re suffering right now. The pain will fade, though. I love him enough to put an end to us.

“A life without you is going to suck, but I can’t leave.” My tears stain his shirt with agony as I refuse him. “I know,” Mason murmurs against my temple. “You’re meant to stay here.” Determined resolve pumps into my slumped form as I push away from his embrace. “And you’re meant to be a star.”

He curves his hands into a makeshift heart, then flares the symbol outward in an arch. It’s meant to represent an explosion, as if his chest can’t contain his love for me. That’s been our shared celebration since middle school.

“I’ll miss you, Peppy Girl. You’ll always be my first love.” His voice hitches with the admission.

“Too bad things couldn’t be different for us.” “I wouldn’t change anything.”

“I’m glad you were mine, Mason Braxter. Even just temporarily.”

“You want me to pretend that I’m okay with this? That leaving you isn’t destroying me?”

“Fuck, Pep. I don’t wanna leave you.” “But you have to. This is when we say goodbye,”

“Our paths will cross again, Peppy Girl.” My exhale is thick while I paste on a grin. There are no more tears to shed. “I’ll never reject a reunion invite.”

It’s been too long since I’ve gotten properly laid. My dating life came to a screeching halt when those two lines appeared on the pregnancy test. My son will be three in January. Attempting to crunch the numbers isn’t doing me any favors. At this point, my hymen is probably forming a reconstruction plan.

It’s been six years since I’ve seen Mason Braxter, yet in this moment it feels like just yesterday. He’s broader and more filled out—the toned definition of a professional football player. Time has been very kind to him.

“What’s this about?” She winces while making a circular motion around my face. “I thought we’d always have kids together.” “So did I, once upon a time. But we haven’t seen each other in six years. The tide shifted, Brax.”

“If it makes you feel better, Archie is the product of too many shots and a really terrible social experiment. Total accident. A big ol’ whoopsie. But I’d never take it back. Not even for a second.”

“Well, congratulations. I’m happy for you, Pep. Even if I’m having a tough time accepting it.” Her nod is slow, understanding ripe with the motion. “Want to see a picture of him?” “Of course,”

“It’s all an act.” “You can’t fake these.” She squeezes my biceps. I flex on masculine instinct, and she laughs. “But that’s just a polished exterior. I’m a disaster on the inside, Pep.” Presley tosses waves of glossy hair over her shoulder. “Lucky for you, I handle messes for a living.

But that’s beside the point. You didn’t want to see me.” “Only because I’m ashamed.” The humor fades from her features. “Of what?” “Who I’ve become.” It pummels my pride to admit that, but I can handle the pain for her. “Rich and famous?” “Shallow and empty.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. You’re right about us being different people, and I can’t blame you. I’m the past. Why would the all-star athlete want to slum it with his ex-girlfriend who stayed behind in their small town?”

“There’s the eternal optimist I love.” “Careful,” she warns. “Right, sorry.” I guzzle what’s left of my beer. “I’m forgetting myself. You’re just so damn refreshing. I’ve missed being, well… me.”

The fact that I’m jittery is telling. I’ve felt the pressure from thousands of spectators without buckling, yet this woman has the power to unnerve me.

“Are you dating anyone?” “I wish,” Presley mutters. “Oh?” I lean in, erasing most of the distance forcing us apart. “It’s an inside joke. Never mind.” “So, there’s no special guy in your life?” I need her to confirm it. She shifts forward with an exhale, close enough to touch. “Other than Archie? Nope.”

That mends a wound I didn’t notice was still festering. The persistent throb in my temples ebbs. “I’m tired of pretending...

On pure instinct, I curl a palm around her nape and pull until she collides flush along my chest. Our mouths meet automatically. We melt into the intimate embrac...

Our bodies remember what we were willing to ignore. Never again. I’m instantly transported to the days when this was as natural as breathing. It’s everythin...

My fingers spear into her hair and guide our movements. Presley is mine again, at least for a moment. That’s a heady sensation and I haul her tighter against me. Feverish lust floods me when she nudges my cock with her pelvis. I’m hard and reeling, ready to suggest we ditch this public space.

Before I can do just that, Presley rips her mouth away with a gasp. “What was that for?” “The last six years without.”

A smile takes shape and I drop my hand. It’s been so long since I’ve felt desired. That’s an addictive high I want more of.

“You kissed me.” His heated stare is locked on mine. “I did.” “And you want to kiss me again.” There’s not a hint of doubt wavering my voice. “I do.” My grin turns cheesy at his bold admission. “I can’t believe you just went for it.” “Don’t act surprised.”

One thing hasn’t changed—Mason has always gone after what he wants without fail. When we were together, that was a trait I admired, even when he stooped to reckless levels. His determination is what drove him...

“There hasn’t been much to laugh about lately.” His solemn tone deflates the ballooning need between us. “Is it that bad?” From where I’m perched, he looks better than ever. Mason shrugs, his eyes busy eating me for dessert. “I can’t seem to recall at this very moment.” There’s no controlling my squirm. “You’re giving me a lot of credit.” “That you’ve earned. I’m cluttered junk and that just so happens to be your specialty.”

This man knows exactly how to push my buttons. Years of practice have honed it to an exact science. Am I falling for it? Maybe.

“You can hardly be considered work.” “Or you’re just that good.” A pleasant tingle erupts over my skin. “Okay, Mr. Flatt...

“Jeez, someone is laying it on thick.” Mason draws in a breath. “Would you prefer I go back to pretending?” “Obviously not.” “Then you have to deal with my shameless flirting.” “Such a hardship.” I accept my fresh drink from the bartender with a smile,...

“That’s not where I want to touch you.” He bites his bottom lip. “Uh, wow. You’re cranking the heat.” I press the cool glass to my flushed skin for a brief reprieve. “We’re reaching a point of no return.” Mason scoops up my palm, lac...

“We could continue reminiscing.” “And how might we do that?” His voice drops several octaves. “What are the chances you want to get reacquainted in a more physical sense?” A fiery blaze ignites in his eyes. “Peppy Girl, are you suggesting we sleep together?” “Very much so.”

“Do you live close by?” “Not really, but in the general vicinity. I was thinking somewhere even more convenient, though.” I hitch a thumb over my shoulder. His focus trails to where I’m pointing. “Inside the bar?” “The bathroom is very spacious—and single capacity.” “There’s room for two?” Mason rubs my knuckles that are bent around his. “Uh-huh.”

He stands and steers me with a palm on my ass to our destination. I peek up at him. “Staking your claim?” His fingers dig into my flesh with a possessive squeeze. “I’ll use any excuse to touch you, Pep. This is just the beginning.”

“Get inside me. I can’t handle foreplay.” His nose bumps my clit as he dismisses my command. “Just a taste.”

Down girl. Relief is coming soon.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs against me. “It’s been a while.” His lips tease me with gentle suction. “How long?” “That’s personal.” “More personal than me on my knees, giving you pleasure?”

“Forty-one months and some loose change.” “That’s oddly specific.” “Less talking. More licking.” I wiggle my hips in impatience. Mason clucks his tongue. “What the lady wants, she needs to ask for nicely.” Did he develop a begging kink? I...

“Oh, Sweet Mother of Orgasms. That’s incredible.”