Peering into his eyes through the glass reflection, I see something dark. Almost primal. I’m sure I heard a growl from deep in his throat. Any sadness I was feeling dissipated the moment his hand rested on my shoulder before holding me in the safety of his arms. It’s here I feel home for the first time in my life.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was some sort of desire in his eyes. It’s silly to think he could want me. I’m a chubby eighteen-year-old. I’m nothing compared to the woman he had here the night I arrived. A curvy woman with long black hair, probably late twenties. High cheekbones and legs for days. I have stumps. Frizzy multicoloured hair and an attitude to boot.
There’s sadness in his eyes, too. Each time I look at him, I see the weariness carved on his masculine face. Does he see my mother in me? Is that the burning desire that’s present? I shake that last thought, because he hasn’t actually made a move on me. If he did, I’m not sure I could resist.
I hold his gaze. He’s too close. With each ragged breath tickling my skin, it tingles in my centre. I could lose myself staring into the darkness; into his deep sable irises and the dark desires that mirror my own.
A crack of lightning flashes, breaking our trance. He lets go of my shoulder, clearing his throat. “Eat your dinner.”
We both resume our positions at the table and finish our meal in silence. Each time thunder rumbles, the hairs prickle on my skin. I shouldn’t have these strange feelings towards my mum’s old boyfriend. He’s basically more than twice my age, but with one touch from his rough fingers against my skin and I’m like a toasted marshmallow, burning up on the outside with a gooey centre.
I wash the pots and he opens a beer. “Want one?”
“Sure.” Anything to take the edge off.
He opens another and sets the bottle on the side for me. “Leave the pots on the drainer to dry. Come into the main room. I’ll put a movie on. Your choice.”
My eyes dance with excitement. I never get to take control of the TV. Not here and not ever. Once I had a TV in my room, but that was a rarity.
He sits on the old burgundy sofa and I sit on the opposite end, lifting my bare feet up on the middle cushion between us. With a smile stuck on my face, I take the remote, clicking on the Netflix app.
“Netflix and chill, is it?” He smirks, lifting his bare feet on the coffee table as he relaxes back against the cushions.
I give him a side eye.
“What? That’s what you kids call it, right?”
“I don’t think you understand exactly what Netflix and chill actually means. It has nothing to do with chilling.” I shuffle in my seat, my heart rate picking up a pace as I stare into his eyes.
“What you putting on, then?” He nods towards the TV playing a new series trailer.
I scroll down to the romance section.
“I should’ve known you’d want a chick flick.”
“Well, I am a chick. And I’ve wanted to watch this movie ever since I read the book.” I select the film ‘After’, getting an eye roll from him, but I relish having control of the remote and settle back into the sofa.
It’s hard to concentrate on the TV. I’m just watching him watch the movie. He’s chilled, leaning back against the cushion, almost uninterested so far, knocking back his beer.
When things get heated on screen, he sits up, straightening his back, giving the TV his full attention. My cheeks heat as my heart pounds against my ribs. I wish I’d thought this through.
“Oh, you’re interested now, aren’t you?” My foot digs into his side as I give him a nudge, trying to break the tension in the air between us. I’ve never experienced watching a sex scene with parents in the room, but I imagine it’s close to how I’m feeling now.
He smiles and grabs my foot, tickling the sole. I yelp and wrestle my ankle from his grasp with a giggle. His rough palms against my skin only adds fuel to the fire between my legs. I’ve always been a little weird, but wanting your mum’s ex is beyond freak.
When the scene is over, his eyes fix on me with a heated gaze. “So this is Netflix and chill?” He smirks, rising from the sofa. “Another beer?”
I nod, unable to speak, my heart hammering in my throat. My centre pulses with the need to take care of business. I’m so aroused around him. I can’t go on like this. A flush burns my face, wondering if he can tell what effect he has on me.
He returns, handing me another bottle. Though I’ve only had one to his two. Sitting back in his usual position, he looks at me again. “You didn’t need to pause it.”
“Well, you looked like you were enjoying it a minute ago. I didn’t want you to miss anything.” A giggle escapes me as his smirk turns into a smile and it’s beautiful to see him relaxed and smiling with me. It’s a rare sight when he lets himself go and I get a glimpse of the boy in him. The version of him my mum fell in love with.
We continue to watch the film, but I can’t concentrate fully. My body thrums for his touch again.
He huffs. “What a fucking little prick. She should’ve stayed with that other lad.” He knocks his beer back and I tut.
“That’s such a dadsy thing to say. The other guy was so boring.”
