“Yeah. It’s kind of my job to notice everything you say and do. Remember? Bodyguard. And lawyer. I pay attention to the small stuff.”
“Got it.”
We watch the rest of the game in silence. Every now and then, I catch him glancing over at me, and each time I pretend not to notice. When the final buzzer fades into a late-night sports recap, Icheck the clock.
He yawns.
“It’s getting late,” I say. “Like I said you can stay in my room.”
“That’s not happening,” he says again. “I’ll take the couch.”
“Fine,” I reply, standing. “I’ll grab you a blanket and a pillow since you’re determined to be uncomfortable.”
I walk to the small closet next to the kitchen and pull out both before handing them to him.
“Do you need to go into an office or something tomorrow for work?” I ask.
“No. Most of what I do is on my phone or laptop. I can use your coffee table as a desk.”
“Alright, sounds good to me.”
He hesitates. “Do you mind if I take a shower?”
“Uh, no,” I say, then pause. “Where else would you take one?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Good point.”
He grabs a pair of pajamas and a toiletry bag from his duffel, then heads into the bathroom and closes the door behind him.
I walk into my room and shut the door behind me. Crossing the space, I grab my laptop from the bed and start an episode of my favorite crime show. From the bathroom, I can hear the shower running, and my thoughts drift to Mateo—naked behind that door. When his shirt was unbuttoned earlier, you could see his perfectly tan skin and his impeccable six-pack abs.
The longer I think about his body, the more a strange, unfamiliar sensation stirs inside me. It feels like a fire burning low and insistent, desperate to be put out. I’ve masturbated before, sure—but never with a specific person in mind, and never someone this close, this near, this real.
I shift onto my back, keeping the show playing—just in case he steps out of the shower while I’m doing this. My right hand slides down my body to my waistband, my fingers finding my wet pussy. Myleft hand moves to my breast, and I slowly rub until my nipple tightens and hardens beneath my touch.
My right index finger slips inside me, moving slowly in and out until my body begs for more. When I add a second finger, a soft moan escapes me, muffled against the pillow as I hope he can’t hear. As I finger myself, the image of Mateo keeps flashing through my mind, refusing to let go.
I spend the next few minutes continuing the steady motion of my fingers sliding in and out, occasionally brushing over my sensitive clit as I work toward the climax I’ve been building. When it finally hits, my moan is loud enough that I’m sure he can hear me. I turn my head into the pillow, muffling the sound as much as possible.
I lie there for several minutes, my breathing labored as I slowly bring it back under control. Once it finally steadies, I roll onto my side and focus on my show, knowing I won’t leave this room—not until I can guarantee he’s asleep.
After I notice the light go out beneath my door, I quietly walk over and press my ear against it, listening to make sure he’s asleep. Soft snoring drifts through the door, and I slowly open it, heading toward the bathroom to take a shower and brush my teeth.
The bathroom is less than ten feet from my bedroom, but I still rush, nerves buzzing as I move. I’m terrified he’ll wake up and see the evidence of what I’ve done written all over my face.
I shut the door slowly and as quietly as possible. I turn on the shower, setting the water to a lukewarm temperature. I take off my pajamas and step into the shower, letting the water wash away everything that’s happened today.
I sit down and let the spray run over my body. Sweat, anger, and frustration rinse away as the weight of it all settles in. I’ve spent years wishing for a normal life, and somehow, it’s only become less normal. A soft sob escapes me as I think about mymother—how she never would have wanted this for me. She wanted me to help people, to be there for them, not to become a part of this world. She made my dad promise, and now I’m the one failing to keep it.
After spending half an hour sitting in the shower, I finally decide to get out. I grab a towel and wrap it around my body, then brush my teeth and smooth moisturizer over my face. I can’t blow-dry my hair, so I brush it out and let it air-dry, even though I know it’ll take forever.
My hair is long, nearly brushing my waist, so I usually keep it pulled back in a ponytail or a bun. It’s my quiet way of honoring my mother; she had long red hair too.
After putting my pajamas back on, I slip quietly into my room and turn my show back on. It’s nearly four in the morning, so I figure I can get a quick nap. I braid my hair to keep it from tangling while it dries, then settle in to sleep for a few hours.
EIGHT
MATEO
