“Have you thought about her when you’ve… we’ve…” she trails off. There is no good word for what we’ve been doing. She’s right about that much.
“I only think about you.”
She releases a breath, like she’s comforted by that answer, but her body language is still tense.
“I know this was like a thing, because I’m your sister’s friend. And teenage boys have their fantasies and whatever. And it was fun, honestly, but I think we have to stop now.”
I try to ignore the sinking sensation I’m feeling.
“Do you want to stop?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Violet… Look at me.” I touch her hip to coax her around, and she finally relents.
Her eyes drift down over me, my chest, down to where I’ve left my joggers purposefully hanging low and then she closes her eyes, before she opens them again, looking directly at me.
“Do you want to stop?” I ask her again.
“We should,” she answers holding my gaze.
“That’s not what I asked.” I let my hand continue to explore, letting the back of my knuckles run up under her shirt, over her stomach.
I only get halfway up her ribs when I feel satin, and the edge of boning. I close my eyes to imagine what the half corset must look like underneath the baggy shirt she has on.
“Did you put that on to go out with Joss or to wear under a jersey?”
“The fifth again,” she whispers.
I try hard not to smirk, but I can’t help myself and her eyebrow raises in admonishment when she sees it. I pull my hand back, remembering what she’d said about touching.
“I don’t want to stop, but I don’t want to fuck this up either.” I tuck my hands in my pockets, because they ache to touch her, and I don’t trust myself not to do it again.
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” She shakes her head, staring down at the floor.
“Is there anything I can do? We can back things up, go back to how it was. Do you want to watch again?” I do my best not to let the desperation come through in my voice.
Her eyes flash up to mine for half a second at the last offer I make, and I can tell she likes the idea even if she thinks it’s a bad one.
“This all stays between us, right?”
I’m confused by the question, and she sees the puzzled look on my face and continues on.
“I just mean, I don’t want to be a locker room joke. Or if the university found out. I mean you’re not my student, but I do teach classes. And if your family found out… I don’t need Mama Beth or Nora to murder me.” She rattles out the statement quickly, and I can tell it’s been eating at her.
“First of all, you would never be a joke. If the guys knew I had a grad student in my bed they’d be fucking jealous and buying me a beer to get tips on how to get their own.”
She laughs, and I feel the tension ease a little bit.
“But I would never talk about you in a locker room, Vi. And I’m not your student, and you don’t have any power over my academic or athletic future, so I don’t think you need to worry about it.”
“Still not a great look. If I was a guy, and you were a female student…”
“If the power dynamics were different, maybe, but… and I’m not trying to sound like an asshole here, so please don’t take it that way. I play for one of the best college football teams in the country. I’m one of their best players when my ass isn’t on the bench. I don’t think anyone will look at that and say you’re taking advantage of me.”
“No, but it’s another reason Mama Beth and Nora will murder me. Youareone of the best players. Your assison the bench, and I’m supposed to be helping you get your shit together, not fantasizing about you, watching you… Oh my god when I say it out loud, I feel like it’s even worse.” She presses her hand to her mouth, a horrified look on her face.
I can’t help but laugh at it, even though I regret it because it just makes her face contort even more.
