Cheryl

He entered me slowly, his cock easing into my wet pussy so slowly I could feel every inch of him.

His fingertips entwined with my hair, his breath mingling with mine on my parted lips. His penetrating gray eyes locked onto mine, pushing into the depths of my soul as he moved in and out of my pussy.

A breathy moan escaped my lips as he moved in deeper.

"Fuck, Cheryl," Carlson moaned on my parted mouth, his lips brushing against mine.

Just as we were about to kiss, a loud sound pulled me out of my horny dream.

I woke up, my eyes wide, panting and sweating, the remains of desire still lingering in my mind.

It felt so real. The rough way he touched me and the kisses. The feeling of his cock pushing between my pussy lips and entering me.

It felt so real.

Yet it wasn't.

This wasn't the first time I dreamed of Carlson fucking my brains out. In fact, it had become a very recurring dream, one I'd admit I anticipated every night.

It was the only way I could voice my true feelings.

I know. It wasn't possible for us to ever be together.

He was way out of my league, not just in terms of looks. Carlson was the star athlete, a sexy player everyone looked up to. And I was just... me.

Both our worlds could never connect in the way I wanted it to.

Yet, in my dreams, they did clash.

I sighed heavily, twisted around, and silenced the alarm clock. With a groan, I flopped onto my back, staring at the ceiling.

My body was still shaking with that ache of desire Carlson left in my dream. An ache I knew only he would be able to stop.

But of course, in my reality, that wasn't possible.

I closed my eyes, biting into my bottom lip harder as my fingers trailed down my body. Between my breasts and lower.

I imagined that it wasn't mine but his rough calloused fingers that felt good on my skin.

I moaned as I imagined him saying nasty things in my ear. His body beside me. His hands... on my pussy.

I gasped as my fingers pushed into my panties, kissing its way down to my throbbing clit.

I imagined his touch. Rough yet tender. The way he would kiss me while his fingers rubbed circles around my clit. The way his fingers would seek my-

"Looks like you're having fun."

I heard my sister's high pitched voice and my eyes shot open.

They connected with her cold blue eyes and a mocking smirk. Celeste. My older sister and the golden child. The one who had been haunting my real life since the day I was born.

She was standing beside my bed, leaning down so she was the same height as me. With her arms crossed over her chest, Celeste chuckled. "Did I interrupt your little session?"

Her eyes gleamed with cruel amusement when my cheeks reared an ugly red embarrassed flush. I nearly choked on my saliva.

I was so lost in my imagination, I hadn't heard when she entered my room.

I sat up, awkwardly moving my hand out of my panties after realizing I still had them tucked in there. I could feel how wet and exposed I was. But I pulled my fingers out anyway with my face still burning.

"How long have you been here?" I uttered awkwardly, my face hot as I was unable to look at her.

How embarrassing.

Celeste let out a laugh. "Long enough to see that you were enjoying yourself, Cheryl," she teased. "Who were you thinking about? Let me guess. Carlson again?"

I groaned, throwing the covers over my head, my mortification now worse by her playful taunting.

"Please pretend like you didn't see that," I moaned, burning in embarrassment under the covers.

I can't believe she walked in on me masturbating. I was so close to moaning out his name.

Suddenly I felt the dip of my bed and fingers prying the sheets off my face.

I peeled my eyes open and sucked in a breath with how close she was to me.

Celeste smiled widely.

I knew the cruelty behind it.

"The journal," she said softly, her eyes dropping to my nightstand. "Where's the journal?"

My blood went cold.

"What journal?" I said, my voice cracking.

She laughed, reaching over me and yanking open my nightstand drawer. I tried to stop her, but she shoved me back with her free hand.

"Get off me, Celeste!"

"There it is," she said, her fingers closing around the leather-bound notebook. "The one you keep hidden under your mattress like a dirty little secret."

"Give it back!"

I lunged for her, but she was faster. She danced out of my reach, flipping through the pages with a look of pure delight on her face.

My journal has had different fantasies about Carlson ever since I had the opportunity to be the hockey team journalist. Now it's in the hands of Celeste. I'm so doomed.

"Oh my God," she said, her eyes scanning the page. "Cheryl. This is... this is disgusting."

"Give it back right now."

She held it above her head, reading aloud. "'I wonder what his hands would feel like. Not in a weird way. Okay, in a weird way. In a very weird way.'" She looked up at me. "You're actually obsessed with him. This is pathological."

"Celeste, I'm serious. Give it back."

"Wait, there's more." She flipped to another page, reading faster. "'I think about his fingers inside me, about him making me cum on his face. His tongue dancing around my clit. I think about him fucking me against the lockers while everyone watches, and I don't even care because it's him, it's always been him-'"

"STOP IT!"

My voice shaked on the last word. I could feel the tears swelling up my eyes, but I tried hard to not let them fall.

Celeste closed the journal slowly, her expression shifting from amusement to a frown

"You know what?" She tapped the journal against her palm, thinking. "I think everyone at school should see this. They should see what their little video analyst writes about in her spare time. I think Carlson should see exactly how pathetic you are."

"Please, Celeste. Don't."

"Please?" She tilted her head, pretending to consider it. "Why should I? You've been hiding this for years and writing your little fantasies. Always pretending you're something you're not."

"I haven't done anything to you."

She turned and walked out of my room with my journal in her hands. I scrambled after her, my heart beating so hard I could barely breathe.

"Celeste, give it back. Please. I'm begging you."

I followed her into the kitchen, where my parents were sitting at the table. Mom was reading her tablet while dad was scrolling through his phone.

"Mom," I said, my voice shaking. "Celeste took my journal. She's going to–"

"Your sister is just playing with you," Mom said without looking up. "Sit down and eat your breakfast."

"She's not playing. She's going to show it to the whole school. She's just wants to humiliate me in front of everyone"

Dad finally looked up, his expression irritated. "Why would she do that?"

"Maybe you should ask her??."

Celeste laughed, holding up the journal. "I found her writing about Carlson. You know, the captain hockey player in our school. She's obsessed with him. It's actually kind of sad. She writes about him touching her. It's disgusting dad!"

Mom sighed, setting down her tablet. "Cheryl, can we not do this right now? Your sister has a game today. We're trying to focus. She has scouts coming and you know her future is very important to us."

"A game? She has a game and I'm about to be humiliated in front of the entire school! She's going to show everyone my private thoughts!"

"Maybe you should think about what you're writing," Dad said flatly. "You're always doing this, Cheryl. Creating drama and seeking attention"

"Creating drama?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "She broke into my room, stole my private journal. And I'm the one creating drama?"

Celeste hissed at me like one poisonous snake. "Maybe if you didn't write such creepy things, I wouldn't have anything to show."

"That's enough," Mom said. "Celeste, give her back the journal."

Celeste's smile faltered. "But Mom–"

"Give it back."

She tossed the journal onto the table like it was garbage. I grabbed it, clutching it to my chest, my hands shaking so badly.

"Now sit down and eat," Mom said. "We have a long day ahead."

I stood there for a moment, trying to make sense of what had just happened. They'd barely even reacted about it.

"Why don't you just find something else?" Dad muttered, and I looked at him, confused. "Even that journal nonsense you're doing for hockey athletes. You're so bad at it."

"Dad–"

"You heard him." Mom picked up her tablet again. "If you're going to have these little hobbies, at least be good at them."

Dad stood up from his chair, walking toward me until he was inches from my face.

"Find something useful to do with your time, Cheryl," he said. "Or you're dropping out of school. I'm not wasting money on your nonsense. You have one week to show me your usefulness in this stupid analyst job you're doing."

Cheryl

After a few hours of tossing around on my bed last night, I was finally able to sleep until my alarm pulled me up again. Fuck. I barely got any sleep.

I dragged myself upright, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms. My head was throbbing.

I hated school. Well, except for the journalist part of my activity I got to do because I get to watch the hockey boys and interview them. That part I actually loved.

My camera was the only thing that made me feel invisible in school, I could watch Carlson all I wanted.

I've interviewed every single player on the team. Every single one except him.

I had just one week.

If I could interview Carlson and analyze him, his plays, his patterns, his strengths and weaknesses... and if Dad saw it, if the school saw it, then maybe I could secure my place.

But to do that, I needed to summon the courage to interview him.

The one person I'd been avoiding for years.

I tossed myself off the bed, walking towards my little bathroom when I noticed my door was open.

I froze.

I always make sure my door is locked before I sleep. Every night I check it twice-once before I get into bed, and once after I've settled in. It's a habit born from living with Celeste, who has no concept of boundaries and even less respect for my privacy.

Who could have...

My eyes went wide.

Celeste!!

I dove for my nightstand, yanking open the drawer. My fingers went through the mess of old loose papers and empty notebooks, searching desperately.

There was nothing.

My drawer was empty and my journal was fucking gone.

"No, no, no, no, no-"

I went through everything. I flipped my mattress, sending my pillows flying across the room.

I dumped my entire backpack onto the floor, scattering things everywhere. I opened my closet, throwing clothes aside, checking every pocket of every jacket.

My journal was truly gone.

I felt sick as my hands started shaking so bad I could barely grip the edge of my dresser.

She took it. That bitch actually took my journal.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God-"

I ran out of my room and down the stairs. Everywhere was so quiet meaning everyone was gone already.

My parents were already gone, too, probably dropping Celeste off at her precious game.

I spun around, my eyes darting frantically around the living room. I grabbed the nearest thing I could find... a pair of flower printed leggings that definitely weren't mine and an oversized hoodie.

I pulled them on without even caring how mismatched I looked.

I grabbed my bag, not bothering to check if I had everything.

Jogging down the road, I knew I probably looked like a crazy person with wild brown loose hair.

I needed to catch up with her before she exposed everything.

As I stepped into the school gate darting for the hallway, I heard people whispering behind their hands while some had their phones up recording me.

I kept my head down and my hands covering my face as I rushed inside the school.

I wasn't looking where I was going. I just wanted to get inside, and disappear into a classroom and hide all fucking day.

I kept running with tears threatening to fall down my cheek. I couldn't believe Celeste would do that to me.

I kept running until I crashed into something hard and my head hit a very solid manly chest, and I stumbled back, my hands flying out to catch myself.

I closed my eyes, ready to hit the floor, when strong hands grabbed my arms, steadying me before I could fall.

I looked up while relaxing myself from the arms that caught me immediately.

Carlson.

His gray eyes locked onto mine with his dark hair all messy, falling across his forehead in that way that always made my stomach flip and I suddenly wished I didn't get up so quick from those warm arms.

He was close to my face and I recognized that Bleu de Chanel cologne he always uses.

He stared right back at me with his jaw tight, parting his lips like he wanted to say something while I stood there eager to hear what he wanted to say.

"Carlson! We're gonna be late!" One of his teammates, Remy, grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back.

Carlson didn't move, his eyes were fixed on me.

"Bro, come on!"

He blinked before letting go of my arms and stepped back.

He didn't say anything anymore but turned and walked away with his friends.

I stood there frozen, my heart beating so hard until I heard mean voices behind my back.

"Looks like someone's desperate for attention."

I turned so fast to see Celeste and her best friend beside her, while some others gathered and I could see them with their phones up again.

"Did you see that? Exactly what I was talking about," Celeste said to Megan. "She literally threw herself at him."

Megan snorted.

I tried to walk away, maybe toward the bathroom, where they wouldn't hover around me. But Megan stepped in front of me, blocking my path with her bony shoulder.

"Wait, wait," she said, holding up a hand. "I have a question. When you wrote about him fucking you, were you like-" She made a crude gesture, pumping her hand up and down near her crotch. "-shaking like a dying fish while you wrote it? Probably using your tears to oil your pussy cause you know he'll never ever lay his hands on you."

Celeste and the rest of the people burst out laughing.

"She'd probably die if he actually touched her," Celeste said, clutching her chest like she was genuinely concerned. "Or her heart would give out from the shock and she would cum on the spot like the desperate little whore she is."

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Good, Carlson is the hockey captain and only fits for someone of his league. Which is Celeste. So stay out of your sister's lane and stop trying to steal her spotlight."

"If that was so, I wonder why she hasn't been seen with Carlson either. It seems like someone of his league rejected her, right Celeste?"

"You-"

She stepped forward with her hand raised as if to punch me when she stopped, then sashayed past me tossing her hair over her shoulder while her friends and minions trailing behind her like a pack of hyenas.

I stood there, my back leaning against the lockers.

I didn't bother to think about going to class anymore as the hockey arena was my only safe space for now. I wanted to keep myself busy and not think of my sister's bullying.

I had to film the team's practice for my analysis work.

I pushed open the heavy door to the arena and the rink was empty.

No one was here yet for practice.

Good. I needed a moment to breathe.

I walked toward the bench where I usually set up my equipment, my bag over my shoulder.

I blinked hard, forcing the tears away.

Stealing your sister's spotlight.

No one knew that Celeste actually stole my spotlight when we were kids.

Hockey has always been my passion. I'd always loved it. Always dreamed of it.

I pulled out my camera and laptop as I recalled memories of that day when I was on the rink playing with other kids and Celeste and her friends shoved me down and I got my ankle injured.

Since then I've never got to play as my therapist had said. Now I have to settle down to be a journalist.

I opened my laptop when rough hands covered my eyes.

My first instinct was to scream but another palm was over my mouth, making my screams turn to muffles.

I thrashed wildly, my heart beating so hard.

Another set of hands grabbed my arms, yanking them behind my back so hard my shoulders popped.

"Fast," I heard a deep male voice growling. "Steal all her analyst equipment. We need to be quick so we don't disappoint ma'am."

I tried to bite the hand covering my mouth.

"Bitch," the voice hissed. "Hold her still."

Someone else grabbed my hair, yanking my head back so hard I saw stars.

I couldn't tell how many they were at this point. But what do they want from me?

Tears spilled from my eyes as I almost gave up struggling.

I felt them grab my camera, my laptop, everything. They yanked cords out of the wall, threw my bag aside, and started shoving everything into a duffel bag.

"Stop!" I tried to scream. "Please–"

The door to the arena burst open.

"Hey!"

I heard a familiar voice and the hands let go of my eyes, my mouth. Literally my whole face.

Carlson rushed in with Remy at his back.

The men shoved me down until my knees hit the ground.

"Go! Go!" one of them yelled.

They scrambled toward the back exit, jumping over the fence.

Carlson was already running toward the back door. "Remy! Alert security! Now!"

Then he turned back to me.

He crouched down, his hands reaching for me.

"Cheryl," he said softly. "Are you okay?"

Cheryl

He crouched down, his hands reaching for mine.

"Cheryl," he said softly. "Are you okay?"

I tried to say something but I couldn't. My whole body was shaking and I just stared at him as my breath came in short gasps.

How did Carlson know my name? Probably because he knows the name of their team analyst. But even that, I didn't expect him to know.

He reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me up. I stumbled, my knees buckling beneath me. Everywhere felt painful, worst at my legs.

"Whoa, whoa, easy," he said, steadying me. His hands were firm on my arms, holding me upright.

I felt a sharp sting on my knees and I looked down, hissing in pain. Blood was dripping through the ripped fabrics of my leggings.

Who were those guys and why did they choose to steal my laptop? All my analytics since day one was there and I had one week to show father my progress.

They didn't even pick my phone or anything else. Just my laptop and other work equipment.

"You're bleeding," he said, his eyes fixed on my wounded knee, his voice became suddenly tense.

I looked up at his face, his eyes scanning my own and then down to my knees and checking if there was any other place I got hurt.

Carlson was known to be the cold type towards girls especially who throw themselves at him but I didn't know he could be this caring for a stranger.

I hope he doesn't get to see my journal that is now everywhere. He will obviously hate me and hate that he helped me from those thug men.

Remy came running back, he was breathing hard and his dark hair all scattered.

"They're gone," he said, panting. He bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "I lost them. They were too fast and the securities couldn't catch up with them either."

Carlson's jaw tightened. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Fuck."

He looked down at me and without another word, he grabbed me and lifted me up like I weighed nothing.

"What-what are you doing?" I stammered, my hands instinctively gripping his shoulders.

"Taking you to the nurse," he said.

He carried me over to the bench and sat me down gently. I winced as my knees hit the cold metal chair. He crouched in front of me, examining my wounds. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line.

I could see his features clearly now.

He could pass for a Greek god. He had a strong sharp jaw. His dark hair was still messy as fuck, falling across his forehead in that way that always made my stomach flip. I could see a small faint scar near his eyebrow.

My heart was beating so hard I could barely breathe.

He's so close. He's so close to me. I never had expected in my whole life that Carlson will ever get this close to me talk less about examining my own wounds.

I was still staring when the door to the arena burst open.

"Oh my God!"

Celeste. Again. What the fuck is she doing here?

She came rushing in with Megan right behind her, she had that face and I knew she was about to show that silly fake concern she always displays when she tries to impress someone. Her hands were clasped together like she was praying.

"Cheryl!" she cried out, running toward us. "I heard what happened! I came as soon as I heard the security told me that you got robbed!"

She dropped to her knees beside me, grabbing my hands. Her eyes were wide, her voice trembling with fake emotion. She squeezed my fingers so hard it hurt.

"Oh, you poor thing. Are you okay? I was so worried. When I heard, I just-I couldn't believe it. I was so scared something terrible had happened to you."

I stared at her, my mouth open.

What the fuck is she doing?

She turned to Carlson, then mimicked a much softer voice, much different than what she uses in the house when she wants to get her ass in my stuff.

With her bottom lip trembling like she was about to cry.

"I'm so sorry about all this, Carlson," she said. "I know you're probably frustrated because of everything my sister wrote in her stupid journal and now you have to take care of this mess too. I'm so sorry for the mess she caused. She didn't mean to-well, actually, I don't know what she meant. But I'm sure she feels terrible."

I felt my stomach drop. Was she trying to forcefully get Carlson to see the journal? Oh fuck.

"It's all over school now," she continued, shaking her head sadly. "I'm sure you've seen it by now. I can't believe she would do something like this. It's so embarrassing. For her, I mean." She paused, looking at me with feigned pity. "I'll take her to the nurse so you don't have to deal with her anymore. You've got practice to focus on. You don't need this drama."

She reached for me, her fingers closing around my arm.

But Carlson moved before she could.

He stepped forward, his body blocking her. His gray-blue eyes were cold and glaring hard at Cheryl. He scooped me up into his arms again, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing.

"What journal are you fucking talking about?" he asked with a low angry tone that made Celeste step back a little bit.

"Oh, um... the one she wrote. The one with all the-" She looked at me, then back at him. "It's all around school. I thought you must have seen it by now. You can check the school portal. It's posted all over there."

I couldn't speak or breathe.

I felt so hurt. So humiliated. And she was standing there, pretending to care about me while stabbing me in the back.

Please, Celeste, I begged silently. Just get the fuck out of here.

Carlson stepped in front of Celeste, still holding me in his arms.

"Are you more concerned about some fucking journal," he said, "or your sister?"

Celeste opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her face went pale slowly while she kept her face down nervously.

It's funny and weird seeing my sister who is always high of herself and bully other people tremble so much when Carlson talks.

He pushed past her, shoving her shoulder as he passed, and walked toward the door with me in his arms.

I looked over his shoulder and saw Celeste's face while Megan rushed to hold her shoulder rolling her eyes at me.

I knew my days after today was going to be hard because of this, but looking at the bright side... the boy I'd been fantasizing about for years was literally carrying me in his arms.

If this was a dream, I didn't want to wake up.