The Stadium's Star [COMPLETE]

Chapter 42

As I step into Zack's dorm, everything feels okay. We sit on the bed and turn on a movie. I try not to keep my eyes on the door.

"When did you get this?" he asks, running his hands over a small bruise on my wrist.

"I don't know," I say. "I just get bruises by walking into things sometimes."

He laughs a little and brings my wrist to his lips, kissing the bruise. I smile on the outside, internally hating how I'm lying to him.

"I leave for one week and you're bumping into things, getting into all kinds of trouble," he murmurs.

I let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of my neck.

"How was everything with Marcus?" he asks. "You said you were helping him study. Is he doing okay?"

"Yeah," I say. "Actually, I... We aren't gonna study together anymore. I know I said I would help but I'm just too busy. I'm sor-"

"It's okay," he says immediately. "It's not your job to make sure he passes."

I nod, looking down at the covers.

"Don't feel bad," he says. "You're making that face."

"What face?"

"The 'I can't help everyone and now I feel guilty' face."

"What?" I ask with a small laugh. "That's not a thing."

"Yeah it is. Your eyes get all sad and you start to look constipated."

My arm goes out to whack him immediately. We both laugh as he attempts to dodge me.

"It's called being nice," I say. "You should try it sometime."

"I am nice," he says.

"You are not nice," I disagree. "Not to people you don't know."

"And you're too nice to people you don't know," he says.

I go quiet. "Maybe," I whisper.

"It's not a bad thing," he says softly. "It's because you care. You just need to put yourself first sometimes."

"You put me ahead of yourself sometimes."

He smirks. "Yeah, but you're you. I'm always gonna take care of you."

His voice is so genuine, his eyes so warm, that I melt. I move the laptop to the ground and lean over to press my lips to his.

His hands move to my hair and he moves me towards him, pulling me on top of his lap. I rest my hands on the top of his shoulders. One of his hands slides down my throat, careful. It runs over my skin, tracing my neck, my clavicles, my shoulders.

I let my hands cup his face, brushing his cheekbones. He closes his eyes, pressing his cheek into my palm.

His lashes are like the wings of a butterfly. I stare at the structure of his face: the smooth expanse of his forehead to the strong structure of his nose down to full lips. He's so beautiful, it hurts.

Zack opens his eyes. They're dark like the night sky dotted with constellations. They soften as he brushes his lips against mine. I shiver slightly as he nips my bottom lip, pressing deeper into him.

My eyes close, reveling in the feeling of him. He goes to kiss my neck and his hand slides to my stomach, caressing the skin beneath, before dipping under the waistband of my leggings.

You're lying to him.

"Stop. Stop."

He stops immediately, his hands moving to my shoulders. I try to control my face.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, trying to look at me. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I clear my throat. "Sorry, I'm just tired."

"Don't apologize," he says. "It's okay. Do you want to sleep here?"

"I'm gonna go to my room." I stand up. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Before he can offer to walk me back, I rush out of the room.