Even if it had truly been a near kiss, Chris’s interruption had put a stop to it. The way Jeremy had jumped away from me as if I’d had the plague still haunted me. In that one move, he’d made it clear it hadn’t meant anything, and that was my final determination. I was convinced that the whole thing was in my head, some sort of wishful thinking.
And let me tell you, that sucked. Big time.
At the end of the day, however, I’d rather not have played tonsil hockey with my best friend if he wasn’t attracted to me. That would’ve been a nightmare. Instead, I brushed my confused feelings aside and settled into my daily routine as a new freshman at Navarre High School. I walked the halls with my shoulders squared and my head held high, and from time to time, I checked out the upperclassmen.
I never admitted it to Jenna, but even the cutest guy in school didn’t hold a candle to Jeremy. The only thing that would help get my mind off his messy brown hair, his infectious smile, and his cute dimples was distance. Unfortunately, I wasn’t getting that, nor did I want it. So I spent day in and day out trying to squelch my attraction to him only to have it grow every single time he flashed his gorgeous smile. It wasn’t easy, but I was clearly a glutton for punishment, because as much as we could be, we were attached at the hip, and when we weren’t together, I wished we were.
Cue the inner sighs.
If I’d been afraid that things would change when we went to high school, I shouldn’t have been. We had every class together and spent what time we could doing homework. It wasn’t much, actually, with his football practices taking up most of his afternoons.
Actually, things had changed, just not in the way I’d thought. Our time together had exponentially decreased since we’d started school. He was either on the football field or lifting weights in the field house after school, and I was left sighing at the dining room table, doing my schoolwork on my own. It was too quiet, too lonely, and I was miserable staring out the window at his house, just waiting for him to get home.
It was probably pathetic, but he’d been my partner in crime for six years. I’d come to rely on Jeremy far too much, and I didn’t know what to do with myself when he wasn’t around.
Pretty freaking lame, right?
After a week of moping around, I was starting to annoy myself—as well as my family. Mom suggested I add an extracurricular activity to my schedule, so I decided to try out for the cheerleading squad. It made perfect sense to me, and I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought about it myself. Why wouldn’t I want to be on the sidelines, cheering Jeremy on? Not to mention I’d have front-row seats to him in those super-tight football pants. It seemed like a win-win to me.
I hadn’t told Jeremy that I was trying out because I was nervous and didn’t want him to be disappointed if I didn’t make it. Failure wasn’t something I was used to, and I didn’t want to be pitied if I wasn’t on the list of names at the end of the week. So that’s why he was my first stop after the results were posted. It’d been nearly a week since we’d been able to hang out for more than an hour after school, and I missed him. I couldn’t wait to see him, and as I opened his front door and raced down the hall, nervous butterflies swirled in my stomach.
“I made it!” I shouted, throwing his door open and barreling into his room. In my haste, I almost missed the fact that Jeremy’s shorts were pushed down, his penis was out and on full display, and he was stroking it.
I almost missed it.
My feet immediately stopped moving as I stared at him lying on the bed…pleasuring himself.
Oh. My. God.
There it was. His penis in all its brilliant glory. His large hand was gripping it tight, moving up and down in a long, quick pulls.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
I wondered for a quick second if he wasn’t doing it too fast, but then a grimace formed on his face and he emitted a low moan. His eyes were closed tight as he moved his fist faster, faster, faster.
Clarence Carter’s “Strokin’” came to mind, and I slapped my hand over my mouth as my eyes widened. I knew I should look away, but I couldn’t. It was like his penis was a magnet and my eyes were the metal. I was transfixed. I was mesmerized. I was drawn to watching this act, one I’d never seen before. Hell, I’d never even seen a penis before. And, suddenly, my interest level skyrocketed.
I took a step farther into the room, wanting to get a good look. Unfortunately, I didn’t notice the gym bag in the doorway until I was tripping over it.
“SIERRA!”
Jeremy’s frantic shriek snapped me out of my trance, just as his…stroking was coming to fruition. Apparently, in his…umm…throes of ecstasy, it’d taken a moment to register that I was there. Not that it deterred him from what he was doing.
He apparently couldn’t stop himself, and I couldn’t stop watching.
Oh. My. God.
I mean, I’d heard about this in health class, and Ryan—the self-proclaimed class perv—joked about jacking off all the time, but actually seeing it in person was fascinating.
It wasn’t quite like I’d imagined. To me, I’d always had this picture of Old Faithful erupting and shooting straight up out of the tip, gushing and drenching everything in its path. But this wasn’t like that. It didn’t shoot fast, but it also wasn’t a dribble. It was a couple of quick spirts and penis twitches. The white substance appeared thicker than I’d thought it would. It was weird to think that millions of tiny sperm were swimming in that little bit of…stuff.
Once again, I wanted a closer look, so I took another step into the room.
And then Jeremy shouted my name again.
I stopped in my tracks after I’d realized what I’d done. My eyes—sadly—left his now deflating member and whipped up to his face, where I was greeted with a contorted, conflicted mask of pleasure and mortification. That’s when the reality that I’d just seen Jeremy get off finally set in. And I…
I wanted to watch again.
Mortified couldn’t even begin to describe what I was feeling at that moment. God, had I really just stood in the doorway and watched while he’d done that? I shook my head and blinked a couple of times, hoping to wake up.
No such luck.
I wasn’t in a dream. I wasn’t in some alternate reality. I was still in Jeremy’s bedroom. I had just walked in on my best friend jacking off, and instead of quietly closing the door and coming back later, I’d watched.
And I’d liked it.
My cheeks flamed at the thought. A fluttering took hold in my belly, and I had the sudden urge to squeeze my thighs together, wanting to relieve some of the unexpected tingling that’d snuck up on me.
Holy hell. I was turned on.
“Sierra,” he repeated. This time, it wasn’t a scream. It was a panted plea.
But what was the plea? Did he want me to come closer? Or put as much distance between us as possible? Part of me wanted to meet him on the bed, where I could explore his body. The other part of me knew I had to get out of there.
So I turned and ran out of his room like a bat out of Hell was chasing me.
His dad called out a greeting from the living room, but I was too freaked out to respond. In fact, I scurried out the front door, down the steps, and past my own house. I didn’t stop running until I’d made it to the gazebo overlooking the water. Bending over as my side cramped, I sucked in deep breaths and tried to get the vision of Jeremy’s man parts out of my brain.
But I was failing. It was all I could see. It wasn’t even just the sight of his penis that turned me on. It was watching him in the act. The performance I’d just witnessed? It was incredible. Now, I was breathless for another reason.
I wanted to go back and observe repeatedly, this time with a close up view. Perhaps with some audience participation.