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Her mind circled back to their previous interactions. There was that weird notification on his watch and then, suddenly, he couldn't leave her classroom fast enough, maybe he was leaving her arms and jumping into someone else’s?
Could it be the same someone whose arms he was very well acquainted with?
Is he with her now?
They really hadn’t been intimate in over a month. Wrapping up the end of the year brought with it scheduling conflicts and late nights right? However, now that she thinks about it, usually those late nights ended separately, in their own beds. How many other red flags did she miss?
Think of something else.
Slightly winded from her racing thoughts. Okay, fine, possibly a little bit out of shape. She used to be a hobby jogger. Slow pace, enjoying the sunshine, but lately with work, it was hard to fit it all in and she was definitely feeling it now. Walking through the airport on autopilot, she cursed herself for the very brisk pace she had set for herself.
Why do airports have to be so giant? I mean, come on, the bathroom is easily a mile away from the gate. She huffs.
While surveying the area for available seating, she stops dead in her tracks, very abruptly apparently, since she is jostled around and bumped from behind, having legitimately stopped the flow of traffic. But damn, there he sits, even more glorious than her imagination clings to.
Now that’s the kind of distraction I am talking about!
Melody’s traitorous thoughts interject. Nash leans his head back, earbuds in place, eyes closed. Muscular arms stretched up behind his head, neck curved back to reveal a sexy column of exposed skin, and the teasing edge of a tattoo climbing out his collar. Another one, or maybe it's the same one, snakes its way out of his sleeve on the underside of his bicep making up a colorful sleeve tattoo. The position stretching his t-shirt over his admittedly impressive chest, UCLA logo proudly displayed. His legs sprawled open, muscular thighs bent at the knee in a very masculine way, suggestive really, considering where her thoughts were going. Her mind conjuring up illicit images of their tangled bodies without her consent.
What would he do if she just walked over, threw one leg over his hips and just mounted him, lining up her core with his. Would he push her away? Would his eyes flash with desire as his hands gripped her hips. Would he smile devilishly with that mouth, promising all sorts of dirty things.
And that boys and girls is why you should not bring erotica with you to the airport.
Looks like that splash of cold water was not enough to quell the ache between her thighs. His dark eyes snap open, meeting hers so effectively that it felt like a physical click. She was sure the world stopped. His eyelids hooded, following the length of her body, biting his lip absentmindedly. Mentally fanning herself, Melody breaks the contact, lowers her head and walks to the chair furthest away.
Did that just happen? She risks a peek over her shoulder, finding his eyes glued to her, tracking her movements.
Finally settling in a corner seat, Melody spends a few minutes calming her nerves. Who knew you could still feel those sexy butterflies at 26? She spreads her bags across the bench seat, trying to make herself unapproachable. Pulling out her phone and taking it off airplane mode, trying her best to ignore the vibrations of the texts she keeps getting from Duke.
Focusing only on his last text, not bothering to read his excuses.
Duke: Call me. I can explain.
Melody: Not interested.
Her phone rings. Rolling her eyes in exasperation, she answers.
Let's get this over with.
“I'm not interested in what you have to say, Duke. We have been down this road before, remember?” She answers the phone without a greeting.
“I was just helping her take things out of her classroom, Melly. She needed help. The boxes were heavy. What was I supposed to do?” He pleads, the words rushing out of his mouth and through the receiver with an undercurrent of desperation.
“And you just had to help her with your cock?” Come on, is he serious with this shit. Melody hears the static as he shifts his phone. She can almost see the remorse on his face. Unfortunately, she knew it all too well. He was always so reasonable; he never lied about it, but he always had an explanation.
There was always a reason.
He felt lonely when Melody went on her trip home last year and he had to spend time with someone, right? Rose also felt lonely, so much so that they spent some time together. Was that so wrong?
Or, he felt left out when Melody started to make friends and Rose was quite attentive to his needs. She didn’t want to spend time with him anyway, so really, it was Melody’s fault.
Now it’s what? Rose needed a big, strong man to help her carry those heavy, heavy, boxes back to her place. Please.
Duke does feel bad, and she knows that. She knows he cares for her, and yes, he does regret it, but he just can't seem to help himself. He would do it again in a heartbeat, had done it again apparently.
She sighs. “I just can’t go through this with you again Duke. I really can’t.” She ends the call quickly, setting the phone facedown on her lap.
What does Rose have that I don’t? Aside from legs for days, a tiny waist, and that waif-like appearance that just begs to be taken care of?
