State of Grace | ONGOING

Chapter 5

I walked into Bo's student house, the same building that had played host to my worst nightmare on Friday. It turned out that the threat of being caught was much sexier than actually being caught in the act. The house looked a lot better than it had when I'd left in the early hours of Saturday morning, with the party still going strong. Luckily the boys had clearly paid some good money to get the floors cleaned, and I slipped my shoes off by the front door, padding my way towards the kitchen where I could hear the guys eating dinner.

I walked in to little fanfare, they were all used to me being at their house constantly. Almost a little too used to it, as I'd seen more of any of these men than I was interested in seeing. I'd witnessed enough nakedness, burping, and sex in common spaces during daylight hours to consider myself one of them.

"Hey Lou," a chorus of voices called to me in various degrees of clarity around mouthfuls of rice and chicken.

Five football players lived here. Bo had recruited four of his friends to join him in this place, and the hot tub had been a selling feature that they mostly wasted on trying–and usually failing–to seduce girls in it. Chris Tucker and Wayne Hoffman were both linebackers, massive teddy bears for the most part. Ian Hicks was an offensive tackle, protecting my idiot boyfriend from too much brain trauma. And Eddie Quinn, who went by his last name like Tucker and Bo did, played tight end. I sort of knew what all of these things meant, after years of dating Bo, and being a cheerleader for even longer. But I tuned out as much of it as possible.

Tucker was the sloppiest one of them, and his unkempt blonde hair was only a reflection of the way he could ruin the kitchen in ten minutes while making dinner–but he was an awesome cook. Wayne was broad shouldered and his black beard was always immaculately maintained, a better dresser than any of the others. Ian's shaved head was a deep ebony and he was the only one of them aside from Bo who'd been in a committed relationship, though he and Tricia had broken up at the end of the last school year. I was probably closer to him than any of the others because I'd played relationship advisor for a year with him. Quinn was the shortest, at 5'11", but his smile got him more pussy than any of the others, which bothered them immensely.

I pulled a folding chair out from beside the fridge and opened it next to Bo, sitting down and kissing him on the cheek. We didn't do proper apologies at this point, when we both messed up we just slipped back into the normal ebb and flow of our relationship, leaving whatever crap got us into a fight behind us. His hand squeezed my thigh before he got back to eating. His massive hand was warm against my leg, the paleness of my skin set off the rich brown of his as he rested it on my thigh. Callouses from years of working out and playing football scratched my skin. But I knew those hands, every inch of them. Every line and freckle was etched into my mind like a piece of precious artwork.

"Lou?" Bo squeezed my leg again, and I looked up, blushing slightly.

"Sorry," I apologized lightly.

"I was just asking how your first day of senior year was," Wayne said easily, and I nearly scowled at the memory of what had made me come here in the first place. Of course they would already know what had happened on Friday, Bo would have told them, but not even Bo knew what had happened to me today.

"Pretty shitty, actually," I told him, and the other boys all bristled, as if they could fight whatever invisible force had upset me. They were good guys, even if they could sometimes be a bit obtuse. "The girl that walked in on us Friday is in my business class," I said, and that broke the tension immediately. The boys all started howling with laughter, and Bo laughed right along with them, ignoring the furious expression on my face.

"Sorry, baby," Bo wheezed, wiping actual tears from his brown eyes.

"Oh my god, fuck you all," I whined, ripping Bo's hand off my leg and folding my arms over my chest. "It's not fucking funny," I insisted.