Unloved: Chapter 57

I finish my last final with a beaming smile on my face.

I’m sure I look like an overexcited idiot as I exit the classroom where my extra-time private block testing took place. But I can’t bring myself to care, because I know I passed. I can feel it in my gut.

It’s like shooting the game-winning goal.

Because not only did I pass, but I have someone rooting for me. And I know I’m going to graduate—something my dad swore I’d never do. Something my mom wanted.

I burst through my bedroom door back at the Hockey House where Rosalie Shariff sits cross-legged on my bed with a textbook by her curled-up feet, her laptop balanced precariously on her knee.

She spots me and nearly drops her computer in her haste to stand up and greet me.

“Hey!”

I’m grinning like the Joker now; I can feel it—but she knows why.

“You passed!” Ro squeals, launching herself into my arms. “Oh, I’m so proud of you, Matty.”

She presses the praise into my neck, and I spin her around.

“I’m proud of me, too,” I say with a chuckle, setting her back on her feet and fluffing her hair playfully. “How was your meeting?”

Ro met with Dr. Khabra, the other professor with an internship track built toward her grad school plan. Something to do with neurological testing and creativity. I’m trying to learn more about it, to understand Ro’s work and interests more, but she’s so brilliant most of what she says goes right over my head.

That, and I’m usually distracted by the urgent need to kiss her or lay her back and pull more of those little noises from her. Which is exactly how I’d like to celebrate now.

“Great,” she giggles, dropping back onto the bed. I fall on top of her gently, pushing her shoulders into my mattress. My mouth presses to her neck, hands sinking into her waist. Her hands meet my shoulders, pushing me up off her slightly. “Actually, there is something I want to talk to you about, though.”

“What?” My stomach drops a little. “We need to talk” is never a good thing to hear, but I bite down the frantic thoughts. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah—I just.” She clears her throat. “I’m going home for Christmas.”

“Oh.” I nod. “Yeah, that’s great.”

It is great, asshole. Be a little more excited for her—she misses her parents as much as you do. Encourage her to see them.

“It’s a long flight,” she says, but it feels like she’s dancing around the topic. “Do you want to come with me?”

“To California?”

“Mm-hmm.” She glances up at me shyly. “I know it’s probably way too soon to meet the parents, but I would really love for you to meet them in person—you’ve kind of already met my mom.”

“Yeah, and she’s awesome.”

“Right.” She smiles. “So… will you think about it?”

“I don’t need to think about it, Ro. I’m in.” I barely manage to wait a beat before I ask, “Can I kiss you now?”

She bites down on her lip and nods. I unleash myself, grabbing her in my arms and picking her up off the bed, eliciting a quick squeal.

“I have work tonight—”

“We have time.”

Ro smiles before biting her lip and asking me to set her back on her feet. “I have a request. For you to… teach me something.” She clears her throat and says, “Sexually, I mean.”

My entire body lights up, eyes dancing across her fidgeting form. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t… I want to know how. To do it.”

“To do what, princess?”

“To…” She hesitates again, and I can see the retreat begin, like the slight fear of whatever she wants is enough to make her shrink.

“Rosalie.” My voice is louder, a mix of low, soft tones with a sharper snap. “To do what? Say it.”

She shivers. “To suck your cock.”

“Such a good girl,” I say, tightening my hand into a fist reflexively at the dirty words from her lips. Leaning in to kiss her cheek, I move her hair to the side and press my mouth to her ear. “I think, since I earned the grade, I can teach you something now.”

A moan pours from her lips and she nods almost frantically.

“

.” Her words come out slurred into one. “Mr. Um…”

“Matthew, please, Ms. Shariff.” Her eyes twinkle. “First lesson—she comes first.”

I press her back onto the bed, kneeling so I can pull her cozy sweats off her body along with her underwear. Her skin is warm and soft beneath my hands, pliable as I pull her legs apart.

Licking a solid stripe down her pussy, I tuck my tongue slightly into her opening before circling up and around her clit. My fingers press into her with precision as I stay focused and steady with my mouth until she comes, beautiful and unreserved.

“Perfect,” I breathe, pressing a kiss to her thigh and then her slightly exposed stomach. “Beautiful. A-plus, Rosalie.”

She laughs, tossing an arm over her eyes and shaking her head.

“That isn’t—that wasn’t what I wanted.”

“No?” I ask, furrowing my brow in mock surprise.

“Please?”

Every part of my act melts beneath her plea. I unbutton my jeans, shucking them off entirely, before starting to pull my boxers down—but I’m cut off by her hands pushing mine out of the way, her bracelets scratching my skin lightly as she finishes undressing me and drops to the floor.

“Like this?” she asks, eyes wide as she looks up at me from her kneeling position. I stumble back at the sight of her, knees weak, smacking back against the bed.

“Just like that, princess.” I try to keep my voice low and sensual, but I’m shaking. I can barely stop the tremors in my hands as she reaches tentatively for my dick, tongue darting out to lick her lips—and then my skin.

My hands reach for her—hair, shoulders, anything I can hold myself up with, the sensation of her hot, wet mouth over just my tip enough to have my entire body tensing.

, I chide myself, closing my eyes because the sight, sound, and feel of her has me ready to blow.

She pulls off again, eyes peeking up. “Show me, please.”

I gently help her, guiding her mouth back onto me and to a pace that I would usually enjoy a slow build from—with Rosalie, it’s like I’m walking a razor’s edge for control.

“Perfect,” I breathe. “God, Rosalie, I’m not gonna last.”

Her eyes crinkle, like that thought pleases her, and she picks up the pace and sucks “Fuck,” I moan. “I’m gonna come, princess.”

She sucks more firmly, hips gyrating like she’s humping against the air, searching for friction. I come, , managing to keep my hands soft in her hair as she swallows me with a happy, energetic smile.

After I catch my breath, I mutter, “You turned on again, Rosalie?”

She nods eagerly, cheeks blushing. I lean to scoop her from the floor and deposit her onto the bed, ready to sate my insatiable girlfriend again.

Once she’s relaxed from my overeager mouth and tongue, I carry her to the shower and slip away to grab us snacks from the kitchen—not bothering to dress because I know we’re alone. We eat in bed, giggling and laughing, playing with our food more than we’re eating it.

I’ve waited long enough, and it’s been torture even waiting the few days until her finals and my extended time blocks were completely finished. But I don’t think I could wait longer to ask if I tried.

“So.” I clear my throat, passing her a blue sports drink that she downs greedily. Her clear exhaustion sends a burst of satisfaction through my body. “I want to talk about what Tyler said.”

Her entire body freezes, then blushes, like she hasn’t just been screaming and crying out for me to “Please, please make me come” while I praised her and talked her through the entire thing. My heart swells again, like it wants to leap from my chest and sink into hers.

“Oh,” she stutters, tucking back her hair self-consciously, avoiding my gaze. “Right—um, thank you, by the way. For standing up for me.”

I shake my head, reaching a finger to pull her chin up. “I always have your back, Rosalie.”

There’s another prolonged silence, but as usual, with her it feels comfortable. Like we’re both holding space for each other.

“He was… it wasn’t all a lie. I mean, we did meet, freshman year. At a party. And you were my first kiss.”

My smile is killing me, so wide my cheeks hurt. “I was your first kiss?” She might as well have told me I won the lottery, or the Stanley Cup. She nods shyly.

“Yeah?” I duck my head to meet her gaze, to show off my grin. It seems to soothe her and her words pour faster.

“Yeah—I had my first drink of alcohol, courtesy of you. And then you kissed me.”

“Was it a good kiss?” I can’t keep from asking.

“Yeah,” she breathes, biting her lip into a smile. My heartbeat speeds up, reacting to a memory I don’t have. It also makes me wish for a time machine to slap myself over the head for clearly doing something stupid and fumbling this girl.

This girl who cares for me, defends me, likes me—not for my body or skill, but for me. For who I am. With Rosalie Shariff, I am unequivocally myself, maybe for the first time.

“We spent the night hanging out together. Playing beer pong and laughing and—” She shakes her head with a bittersweet smile. “And it was incredible.”

“But…” I let the word hang, feeling the charge of the air around us. Something happened. Think. Only I can’t—I have no memory of it at all, zero.

“But then you just kinda… disappeared.”

“What?”

“You told me you’d be right back, and you left me there.”

Think, think, think. My heart pounds, stomach churning as I soar through my awful, spotty memories from freshman year. Think, think, think.

Only every memory I can reach includes things I wish I could forget—and I’d never want to forget her. I know myself—even at eighteen and grief-ridden, I would’ve been crawling toward her light and kindness.

“And.” She shakes her head, burying her face in her palms. “And I know you don’t remember. It’s okay—I just—”

“Do you remember when this was? Freshman year?”

She nods. “It was the weekend before the start of fall semester.”

My heart drops into my stomach, skin turning cold. I pull a blanket up around my waist, eyes downturned. It feels wrong to be naked right now, when I know the exact weekend she’s speaking of.

Freshman year, my first big party with the team after spending the summer at practices and flying back to Texas to be with my mother. It was an under-the-table condition upon signing with Waterfell—a condition, actually, that bought my eternal respect for Coach Harris and made me utterly loyal to this team. And he kept my secret.

I’d planned to play for them, but had excused absences whenever I was needed at home. It turned out I wouldn’t need even one.

She was gone before the semester started.

I search for that memory now—a hazy party scene, not even a clear face of one team member who was with me. And then, a phone call—shrill and unforgettable.

Painful, even now.

Archer, whispering a broken “Matty” and then, “I’m so sorry.” A stumbled walk to the dorms, which were nearly too far—and Bennett fucking Reiner, with his dad, taking care of everything. Flying in a goddamn private plane and shaking, legs bouncing, the entire time.

The rest blurs and my eyes water, hands reaching up to rub them.

“Matt?” she asks, her voice trembling. “Can I hug you?”

“Please,” I rasp.

She doesn’t know why I’m crying but she doesn’t ask—she doesn’t even try. Ro holds me, her long arms winding around my broad shoulders and pulling me closer.

“I’m sorry, Matty,” she says, but her voice overlays with Archer’s in my head.

After my tears subside, I manage to wrangle the story from my brain and out of my mouth. It takes awhile and I stutter over a lot of it, but Ro sits patiently, listens, all while keeping my hand in hers.

Patience. Kindness. Love. It pours from her like water.

“I need to stop unloading on you like this.” I laugh, releasing her hand from mine and wiping my eyes until I’ve pulled it together. “It’s ridiculous.”

, I don’t say.

.

“No,” she says lightly. “I want to be there for you. You’ve been there for me more times than I can count. And besides, I like this part of a relationship. I think it’s healthy, and I haven’t had that before.”

“Me neither.”

In the quiet of my room, we stare at each other, until adoring smiles burst beneath our sparkling lovestruck gazes. It is still and perfect.

She stands, slowly and almost begrudgingly, to get ready for her shift. I grab her and pull her back to me.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” I mutter, pouting my bottom lip and moping up at her. She laughs and shoves me off gently, grabbing her clothes and dressing carefully.

“I’m going to work—not the military.” She bites her lip and walks into the open bathroom, messing with her hair. I scoop a few butterfly clips off my nightstand and follow her, coming up behind her. It’s comical—me, completely naked; her, fully dressed. I comb a few strands back like I’ve watched her do a thousand times before, securing a clip into one side and then repeating the process with the other.

“Perfect,” I whisper, leaning down to kiss her, arms around her waist. She blushes up at me and my cock starts to harden all over again—which only works like a vicious cycle, making her cheeks hotter. “Give me a second and I’ll drive you.”

“Okay,” she says dreamily. I perch her on the counter so she can watch me change in the way I watched her. We descend the stairs hand in hand and out to the driveway, where I parked a little haphazardly on the sidewalk.

“I have a request,” she says once we’re inside the car, music playing softly.

“What’s that?”

“I think you should call Archer.”

My throat closes up almost immediately, sweat beading at my brow. “I… I don’t think he would want to talk to me now. I ignored him for forever—”

She shakes her head, looking at me softly, affection and warmth heavy in her gaze. “I don’t think that’s true, Matt. I think he loves you and he probably wishes you would call him.”

I hate that she’s working today as I pull up in front of Brew Haven to drop her off for her shift. I want to ask her to stay, to talk to me until the echoes of shame are drowned out by her nearness.

She kisses me twice on the mouth, then once more on the cheek before she hops out, shivering from the icy wind immediately whipping against her.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” she says. “Just think about it. I think it would be really good for you. Both of you.”