If someone had askedme if I ever thought Laiken would kiss me when I began flirting with him years ago, I’d have laughed. I still can’t believe he did. I can’t believe he agreed when I gave him a choice.
Let’s be real here; I was going to continue flirting with him and teasing him with the sight of my ass even if he said no. And I’m not actually hard up to find someone, romantic or otherwise. My options are vast here on Kala. Between the residents and the guests, my options for hoeing it up are endless.
I think that’s why I never gave much thought to finding someone. There was always someone around.
But there’s no one like Laiken. He’s just… mmm.
I pull my shirt up to look at myself in these new shorts that Cash gave me. He’s not as comfortable in tight shorts as I am, and these were too tight for him. I tried to convince him to keep them because damn. The way they cup my ass is superb. Anything that shows off my ass is good in my book, since that seemed to be the thing that broke Laiken’s walls.
Turning to the side, I check my profile. In reality, it’s not that big. Maybe it’s in the shape. I’ve had comments on my ass for years, so I guess I’ve done something right, though what that is, I don’t know. My workout habits are slim. There are weeks here and there that have motivated me to build some muscle, but those weeks don’t last long.
A knock on my door has me looking up as it opens. I drop my shirt, letting it fall just past the crest of my ass. My mom looks up and stops.
“Oh. Sorry. I thought you were with Cash. I’m just dropping off your laundry, baby.” She comes in and sets the basket on my bed.
“Thanks. I was going to take it out.”
She waves me off. “It’s okay. I need the dryer, and I thought you’d already left for the day. Laundry is kind of relaxing, anyway.”
I nod. Not sure I agree that doing laundry is relaxing, but that’s fine. Mom and I look at each other, and I wait for the comment. Since I’m wearing short shorts and a large pink tee, I imagine it’ll be concerning what I’m wearing.
“So… how are you enjoying working at the bar?”
Interesting. “It’s all right,” I answer. “No one’s been rude yet, so as contradictory as it might sound, I think the bar attracts less rude and entitled people than coffee shops and restaurants.”
Mom laughs. “It’s a different audience, so you’re not far off. You learning all the fun things like bottle acrobatics?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. Just basic mixes right now, like rum and Coke. Things I can’t really mess up.”
“You’ll get there, baby.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
She smiles. A moment passes before she tells me she’s going back to the laundry. I watch as she walks out of my room, closing my door behind her. Talking to Mom is always a little awkward,though I’m impressed there wasn’t a single, even accidental comment about my perfume or painted nails, feminine clothes, my hair…
I turn back to the mirror and lift my shirt again. This time I’m constructively looking at the shorts. I’m not sure I like the way the part at my thighs ball up and curl until they settle into the crevice where my leg meets my crotch. It’s a little uncomfortable. How is it going to be walking around in them? Is the irritation at how they rub my legs worth my ass looking cute?
They might just end up being bed shorts. I don’t think they’re comfortable enough to spend a seven-hour shift at the bar.
Do I like working at the bar? Mom’s question makes me smile. What I like is that Laiken is always right there. Getting so close, I can feel his body heat. The accidentally on purpose brush of his hand against my ass. His jealousy when patrons flirt with me. More than anything, the way he kisses me when we get home.
The trees between our houses have become our spot. It’s not a thick cluster of trees, but during the night, it’s a black mass you can’t see into.
We kiss for a very long time. Time that’s gotten longer each night. Laiken has become more confident in kissing me. His hesitation to do so is now gone. It’s hungry and passionate, and makes me completely weak.
He just touched my bare skin for the first time last night. His hand slipped under the back of my shirt and traced up my spine. I can still feel the phantom brush of his fingers now.
I sigh. God, I want more.
Another knock and I drop my tee again and look at the door expectantly. It doesn’t open this time, which makes me frown. My parents knock and then open without necessarily waiting for a response. A beat passes and it still doesn’t open.
Okay…
I cross the room to answer the door, and my breath catches. Well, damn. Here is my wet dream now. “Hi,” I say and glance down the hall.
“Hi,” he responds. “Miranda said you can come out and play.”
I narrow my eyes, earning me a grin.
