Framing my face, he presses his nose to mine. “And you never will again.”

Before I can comment or even think of what to say, his mouth is moving against mine. Soon, nothing else matters but his mouth on mine and being completely consumed by him. I crave him, want him, and nothing can stop what is going to happen.

But as he rolls us over, him on top, his body pressing into mine ever so perfectly, his words ring in my head.

And you never will again.

He said it as a promise.

A promise he believes will never be broken.

And I believe him.

Because I’m pretty sure I’ll never feel like this again.

Avery said I might not like her by the end of the week.

But she was dead wrong.

Because it’s been two weeks since that moment at the rink, and I’m in deep.

Which I know is insane, especially with how crazy busy I’ve been. When I’m not with her, I’m at the coffee shop or at practice. My life, which used to revolve only around hockey, now revolves around her. We do everything together. For someone who doesn’t want to label anything, she seems to be really into me. I walk her to her classes, we have lunch at the quad or the coffee shop, and at night, we are together. And yes, I mean together. Our sex is just as hot as it was the first time, and at times, I can’t get enough. I swear, I have had more sex in the last two weeks than I have in my whole life. It’s freaking great, really. She’s great, and when we aren’t together, we are texting constantly. I don’t even know how I get through practice or how she practices her music, we are talking so much.

I don’t know, it’s ridiculous. But all I do know is I wake up in the morning thinking of her, and when I go to bed, I’m still thinking of her. It’s scary, like, really scary because, at any moment, she could decide she doesn’t want to do this anymore. And then I’ll be there, alone. It’s kind of pathetic to think about. That I’ve molded my life around her and her interests from just two weeks of knowing her, but I have. What I used to use as extra ice time, I now use to hang with her or even listen to her sing at the coffee shop.

And man, she’s getting so popular on campus. People love her music, and I couldn’t be prouder. I’m pretty sure that’s the way it’s supposed to be. I’m supposed to support her unconditionally and be proud. I mean, Jude supports Claire to the ends of the earth, and Jayden, too. He’d rather Baylor live her dreams than him. Both my sisters-in-law feel the same about my brothers, which is awesome. But I can’t forget Avery hasn’t been to even one of my practices, and every time I bring up my games, she never says she wants to come.

It’s stuff like that that fucks with me because I’m in, but I feel like she isn’t sometimes. Or maybe I’m just overthinking it. In every other aspect, she’s in it to win it; I feel it. But when it comes to supporting me athletically, she’s lacking. Then again, she hasn’t made it a secret she doesn’t care for the sport, and I respect that. But she wouldn’t be there for the hockey—she’d be there for me.

I sound like a fucking girl.

Running my hands down my face, I sit up and stretch my arms over my head. I had to take a nap today. I stayed up late at a gig with Avery downtown—that she did awesome at—and we had an even later night in bed before I had to work this morning at the coffee shop. Then I hit the ice with my team. I’m worn out, so a power nap was needed since tonight the boys and I are hitting the Gilroy for karaoke night.

But, as always, Avery is the first thing I think of.

Reaching for my phone, I send her a quick text.

Me: Just woke up. What are you doing?

Avery: Dying in this music theory class. Wish I was with you tho.

Me: Me too.

Avery: Give me about twenty minutes and I could be.

Me: Promise?

Avery: Yeah, I’ll come to you. If you aren’t busy. Not sure if you’re still a one-woman kinda guy or if you’re ready for that player game.

I smirk as I lean back against my pillows.

Me: I’m pretty sure I’ve made it well known that I’m a one-woman guy, but someone is dragging their feet on the commitment. Not naming names. coughAVERYcough.

Avery: Well maybe, coughAVERYcough likes Javery the way it is?

Me: Then don’t assume I want the game when I’m wanting more from you.

Avery: Jesus, that got deep quick.

Me: You started it.

Avery: Touché. Can we pause and carry on when I get there?

Me: Only if you come out with me tonight.

Avery: I already have you penciled in.

Me: Good, you like karaoke?

Avery: Kinda. I mean, I do like to sing a bit.

Me: Yeah, just a little, huh?

Avery: Yeah, and you know I can carry a tune, but can you?

Me: Duh, I’m amazing.

Avery: Of course, you are. You’re amazing at life.

Me: Preach it, baby.

Avery: Okay, so…I’ll see you soon?

Me: Yeah, I’m counting the seconds.

Avery: …

Avery: You’re corny as hell.

Me: But yet, you still swoon over me.

Avery: Every day.

Grinning at that, I click off my messages and check my Facebook.

I want to say I’m cool with Javery, as we’ve been calling it, but I want more. I want to be able to say she’s mine without her giving me that look. That “don’t label us” look. I kind of hate that look. A lot. But I can’t make her feel what I feel. I can’t rush her into this, I know that. But still, I want more. I want all of her, but it’s obvious she’s holding back. I’m pretty sure it has to do with that douche who hurt her. I get it, heartbreak sucks—I’ve been witness to it. But I don’t know how to be patient.

I’ve never been one of those guys who sits back and waits. I’m an all-in kind of person; I fight for what I want. Work for it. And I feel like I’m putting in extra hours with this girl and only getting half of her. Sometimes I think, why am I even doing that? I could have anyone I want. Or at least, I think I could, but I’m putting all my eggs in Avery’s basket, hoping she’ll feel it too.

It feels right, though.

And I can’t fight that. I’d be stupid to, but something’s got to give.

I’ve got to know she feels the same.

When my phone rings, I realize I wasn’t really looking at Facebook because I don’t even answer the phone right away. I’m too consumed by my feelings for her. By my confusion and uncertainty.