Page 5 of The Writer’s Block

I nod. “I know that already.”

2

Caleb

After I drop JJ home, I drive the short distance to my place. We only live eight minutes away from each other.

I can’t believe I offered to have sex with my best friend. I’ve never even thought of the possibility. Well, okay, that’s a lie. I definitely have, but I chalked it up to being a thing that every man does. We think of sex all the time. I was bound to imagine it with her.

The risk is not worth it, though. I don’t have any family. She’s it. I was on my own until she came into my life. Well, more like I came into her life and refused to leave her alone.

In college, she piqued my interest. She walked around campus as if she didn’t have a single care in the world. Never smiled. Never paid attention to anything around her. She had the most serious resting face I’ve ever seen on a woman. But she was gorgeous. Coco skin. Plump lips. Big brown eyes. A nose piercing. I didn’t think I’d have a chance to talk to her, but I got lucky.

My second semester, I walked into class ten minutes early the first day to see her sitting in the back with headphones and writing in a journal. Lady luck was on my side that day.

Skipping over all the available seats, I sat next to her and immediately asked her for her name.

“Hi, I’m Caleb. What’s your name?” I say to her. She pulls down her headphones and sizes me up.

“I didn’t ask,” she replies, going back to writing.

I peek over to her desk. “What are you writing?” She slaps her hand on the page and glares at me.

“Listen to me, Cross. Stay out of my business, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

I lean back and grin at her. “I didn’t tell you my last name. So, you know who I am?” I feel honored that she knows who I am and still chooses to ignore me. Most girls around here play games like that to get my attention. But her? She means it. She would rather be anywhere else than talking to me.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, you’re the star football player of the school. Has your ego been stroked enough?”

“I think it needs a little more,” I tease. “Tell me how good-looking I am.”

“I would rather lick the ground in the men’s restroom,” she states deadpan.

I let out a laugh, to which some of our classmates turn to look at us. “I like you. So, tell me. What’s your name?”

She stares at me and then sighs. “It’s Josephine Jenkins. Will you leave me alone now?”

“Never. I think I’ll call you JJ.”

“Have you lost all will to live?”

I’ve found all the reasons to live now that I’ve found her.

I’m the only one she tolerates calling her JJ. After meeting, we ended up growing closer, but as friends. We had a deep connection that we—without actually talking about it—mutually agreed we didn’t want to ruin. I’ve met her family, and they consider me one of them.

Seriously.

I have all their numbers, and we do Sunday brunch when I’m not playing football.

When JJ said she needed someone to teach her about sex, I stupidly offered myself up. I didn’t want her to meet the wrong guy, and he mistreats her.

But I can’t help thinking of how good it would be to run my hands down her body and feel her soft skin. I dream of how it would feel to wrap my hands around her braids running down her back like a waterfall and gently tilt her head so she’s only looking at me. I’ve always wondered if she tasted as good as she smelled. Her scent…it was like a drug to me. I knew she was close when I got a whiff of vanilla and jasmine.

I shake my head to get rid of the thoughts.

If I fucked this up with her, I would be left alone again. That I cannot do. It would devastate me to look up at the stand and not see JJ with her family cheering me on during my games.

Ever since I got drafted into the NFL in college, they have been my top supporters. JJ is at every home game with her parents. When I won my first Super Bowl, they were there too. They told me how proud they were and continue to do so. I may have been abandoned by my parents at twelve years old, but they became my new family.