Follow the River

I hear my name being called as I open the entry door from the quad to the weight room, just wanting to get in a quick workout before the next couple days off. When I spin around, I spot River halfway across the open courtyard attempting to flag me down.

I’d never admit it, but I’ve been avoiding him ever since the…incident…in the locker room.

The incident being the best fucking blow job I’ve ever received.

By none other than River motherfucking Le

But it’s not like he’s seeking me out either.

It’s been weeks since then, but shit is still so fucking awkward. We don’t fight each other, don’t make snide or taunting remarks. We don’t even make fucking eye contact when we’re in practice, like we’ve come to an unspoken agreement. The night in the locker room never happened if we pretend the other doesn’t exist.

It’s been working pretty damn well so far, in my opinion.

So why is he breaking the stalemate now?

My teeth grind together as he jogs my way, stopping at the bottom of the steps. He quirks a brow and nods to my gym bag slung across my chest. “What are you doing? We aren’t scheduled to lift today. Or practice. Next two days, we’re home free.”

“I know,” I bite, “but I don’t have anything better to do since Pe

His brows furrow. “You aren’t going home?” he asks, completely ignoring my sharp tone.

I scoff. “For two days? No, I won’t be.”

“Then what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

I sigh, rolling my eyes because Jesus fuck he’s nosy. “Do you actually care? Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get the hell inside to lift before my grandkids are born.”

River is up the steps and in my face faster than Rocky fucking Balboa. “Would it kill you to be civil, you inconsiderate douchenozzle? I was about to invite you to my Thanksgiving since you won’t be able to spend the day with your family.”

I take a step back, confused.

“What? Why the fuck would you do that?” I narrow my eyes at him. “As if I would even accept your goddamn pity invite.”

River sighs, clasping his fingers together on the back of his head atop his backwards hat and starts backing down the stairs with a stupid amount of ease, not the least bit concerned he might trip and fall. “Sorry for trying to be a decent human being. Fucking forget it, Rain.”

He used that damn nickname again.

“I thought I told you not to call me that?” I hiss, my grip tightening on the handle of the door.

He cocks his head to the side, as if to think about it. “Did you? Huh, I must’ve forgotten after you willingly fucked my mouth in the locker room.”

There it is. Motherfucker.

I’m down the stairs with my hand around his throat in an instant, backing him into the waist height stone wall lining the staircase up the building. His eyes, more blue than green today, shine with delightful recognition of the fury he just brought forth in me.

For some messed up reason, he loves riling me up.

And for some goddamn reason…I fucking let him.

Every single time.

“We don’t fucking speak of that. Ever,” I growl, my nose brushing his as I speak. “It never. Fucking. Happened.”

River leans into me, forcing his windpipe against my palm even more. “Or what?” he whispers, probably because he can’t speak at any louder volume. His mouth is hovering over mine, soft and taunting, and I feel my dick twitch behind my zipper at the feel of his body against mine.

Goddamnit, what the hell?

“What are you going to do, Rain? Fuck me in an attempt to bend me to your will?” He smirks and I fucking feel it against my mouth and fuck yes that’s exactly what I want in this moment. “Sorry to disappoint baby, but you should know by now I’m anything but docile.”

His hand somehow has snaked its way up and is latching on my throat before I can protest, catching me off guard. Taking full advantage of my shock, River spins us around, pressing me back into the stone with his entire body.

I still have a grip on his neck but his hand feels much tighter around my throat. Then I feel the thick ridge of his erection rub against my leg and my traitorous cock decides he loves it, stiffening painfully in my pants, despite my mental revulsion.

Shit.

“In fact, some would even say I love having the upper hand, holding all the cards,” his eyes flash to mine and his smile is wicked. “Being the dominant.” His mouth moves to my ear and he gives the lobe a soft bite, right there in the fucking quad for the entire fucking campus to fucking see. I’m horrified someone might catch us.

But also…turned the fuck on.

So turned on, I don’t even notice my hold on his throat has vanished.

“With all that said, it should come as no surprise that I usually get what I want,” he taunts, removing his mouth from my ear and pulls back to look at me. “And what I want is to not feel like a fucking prick on Thanksgiving while I eat with my family, fully knowing you’re spending it by yourself.”

He shoves off me, stepping back and starts heading down the stairs.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at four. Don’t make me wait.”

“I thought I told you I didn’t want your fucking pity invite?” The snarl in my throat is evident as River pushes me aside to let himself in my apartment. “And how the fuck did you find my apartment?”

It’s exactly three minutes after four and true to his word, River’s here to pick me up and take me to family Thanksgiving.

Like a fucking date or some shit.

River slams the door to my apartment behind him, stepping into the entry. “Coach,” he says simply. “And I thought I told you I don’t take no for an answer,” he snaps, taking in the apartment for a brief moment before his glare lands on me. “And that I didn’t want to wait.”

“I’m not going,” I growl, but that was the wrong move.

River is on me in an instant, gripping me by the collar of my shirt and practically drags my ass to the door like he pulled me out of class that day.

“Put your goddamn shoes on and get in my car, Grady.”

I don’t even attempt to erase the scowl from my face as he throws my shoes at me.

Well, at least I’m Grady again and not Rain.

Once we’re in his Range Rover, he pulls out onto the streets of Boulder, heading back in the direction of campus. We pass by familiar sights of the city in silence, my gaze locked out the window on the infamous Flatirons in the distance.

It must only be ten minutes before we pull into the driveway of a two story craftsman style home in an upper middle class neighborhood. It’s nice, white and slate grey with a large, covered front porch, complete with those signature white columns. Truly, it's nothing ostentatious, but the area of town tells me it must have cost a pretty pe

I know River comes from some form of money, seeing as he went to Summit Academy with the Benson twins and Coach Scott’s son. But from the looks of it, he was probably one of the least wealthy kids who went to his prep school.

Which is saying something, because he drives a fucking Range Rover.

Grinding my teeth, I yank the door handle and push the car door open with u