Let’s see Carla compete withthat.
But even that quick thrill of satisfaction soon wanders back into melancholy. My first week at school was too loud, too full of randomness to accept as anything but a failure. I want to slope into the background, not live my life on public display.
Too late now.
“I want to see you.”
The text makes me frown, first from thinking it’s another message from Sierra, then my stomach drops as I realise it’s Zach.
I want to see you. What does that mean?
I want to torture you. I want to confuse you. I want to tease you and touch you and turn you on, then make you agree to things you don’t want to do, and, just to make sure you don’t know where you stand, I’ll also randomly cook you dinner.
Unable to think of an appropriate response, I toss my phone aside. If I keep staring at the message, I’ll just respond. Nobody needs that.
The afternoon shortens, shortens, then tips into evening. After watching some desultory tv alone because my flatmates aren’t moping at home on a Saturday night for some strange reason, I go to bed and immediately fall asleep.
A squeak of paint and wood wakes me, heart pounding so quickly I fear I’m in the middle of an attack. I sit up, pulling the covers higher as though they’ll protect me, waiting for a repeat of the sound so I can put it into context.
A leg comes over the sill and I don’t know whether to feel relieved or more afraid.
“Still haven’t found the door, then?” I say, trying to sound lighthearted. As though Zach doesn’t scare me. As though my heart isn’t running a marathon in my chest.
“It’s freezing out there,” he says, lifting the covers and inserting himself between them. “Hope you don’t mind snuggling.”
When he presses his chilled body against mine, I yelp, then clamp my mouth shut to stop another sound emerging. The last thing I want is for my flatmates to come investigating.
They already think we’re an item. Finding us in bed together won’t go any way towards correcting that.
“Sorry about that.” Zach wraps his arms around me and presses his forehead against my shoulder. His breath is the only warm thing about him, and the light feel of it dancing across my neck causes far more heat than it should.
“What’re you doing here?” I clutch his arm as his hand tries to move down my chest, and he links his fingers through mine. The sensation is so oddly intimate that I forget to breathe for a moment, breaking the spell with a small gasp.
“You said you wouldn’t keep kissing me because I had a girlfriend.” With his free hand, he cradles my head and starts playing with my hair. “So, I sorted that little roadblock.”
“You broke up?”
“She didn’t like me staring at your photos all day.” He pulls his hand from mine and starts investigating my body with his fingertips, navigating under the hem of the oversized tee I wear to bed and stroking the tender skin of my lower abdomen.
I go from too cold to too warm in an instant.
“You didn’t—” I break off and swallow hard as his finger roams under the elastic waistband of my panties, gently tugging at the fabric. There are far too many sensations flying around my body to concentrate on talking.
“I didn’t what?” Zach plants a trail of kisses up my shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, setting a small fire at every light touch. “Didn’t stare at them all day long planning everything I wanted to do to you? Didn’t fantasise that I was in the room while you were posing for them. That the person you were smiling at was me?”
His fingers leave my panties alone and head upwards, and my pulse accelerates. I’m not wearing a bra and as he caresses the underside of my breasts, my nipples harden into stiff peaks, aching for his touch.
Part of me, most of me, wants to give into the delightful pleasures coursing through my body, but my rational mind still sits back, taking stock. “You didn’t show them to anyone else, did you?”
He rolls on top of me, taking my hands in his and pressing them above my head, pinning me so we’re staring into each other’s eyes.
“Would that be so bad?” he asks in a whisper before bending his head to cover my mouth with his.
A whimper escapes from my chest. How did this happen? I was asleep and now…?
“Doesn’t some part of you want me to show them to everyone? Feel their eyes on you.” Zach switches position, so he holds both my wrists in one hand and cups my cheek with the other, his thumb stroking the line of my jaw. “Wouldn’t you like it if I plastered them all over school and you saw how everyone wanted you?
A dart of intense pleasure shoots through my crotch and I buck up against him, even as he gives voice to my worst nightmare.
