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“I honestly thought he was gay.” She puts her face in hands. “He has seen me at my worst and in very compromising positions. Now that I know, now that I have seen him. I can’t unsee him, ya know?” She goes on. “Like, I always thought he was a super hot gay guy, but now, I see him, and I don't know, it's weird. Like butterflies and shit.” Melody smiles fondly. She knew it was going to happen eventually.
“I don't do butterflies, Melody.” Marisol says, venom lacing her words.
“I know you don’t.” She responds, taking a sip of her soda, a slow, teasing smile spreads across her face. “But, are you? Going to pop his cherry?”
Marisol just stares back at her. “I have no idea.”
Finally, back at her house, although if she was being honest, it still felt more like a hotel than a home. She had some of her things here, old clothes and shoes, but no posters on the wall or photos personalizing the space. After a few years away, this place is still more guestroom than anything else. The sheets and blankets are white, the furniture a light oak, the walls an off white, it was all very bland.
Setting her bags off to the side leaving everything packed in there just in case she decides to spend more time at Marisol’s like she does every summer. Melody grabs an oversized T-shirt that she took from Duke's closet last year. It was supposed to be solid black at one point, but has turned a dingy gray with use.
Laying back on her pillows, she pulls out her phone, her eyes landing on Nash's picture. She should send something, but what? She tries to take a few selfies, her face all puffy and unattractive.
Putting down her phone, she pulls out her book, her safety net. She stretches her legs out, more than half of her thighs exposed by the t-shirt, crossing her legs at her ankles. Placing the open book over her thighs, the page turned to a particularly spicy scene. This would make a good picture, a little risque, but still covered up enough to leave something to the imagination. She quickly snaps a picture before she loses her nerve.
Melody: You asked me if my book was any good. Well, this is my favorite scene.
Send. Oh my god, I can't believe I did that, she admonishes herself. Welp, it's too late now. She settles in for some reading. Each page she reads transforms the main love interest into Nash. She feels each caress, every kiss and whimper as she reads, the sensual words consuming her.
Her phone dings loudly, startling her out of her reading-induced fantasy.
Nash: Definitely worth the wake-up.
Nash: I agree with you. That's a great scene. The author is very thorough with her descriptions. I can already feel you on my fingertips.
I can feel you, too.
Nash: Whose shirt is that?
Wow, way to change the subject and kill the mood. How honest should she be here?
Melody: Do you want the truth?
Nash: Always.
Melody: It's my boyfriend’s, well, ex-boyfriend.
It was quiet for a while. The text was read, but there was no response. Melody clicked her screen off, not quite in the mood to read anymore. Turning off the lamp, she lays down and sets her phone on silent.
Feeling the vibration, she turns it over.
Nash: Well, we can't have that now, can we? Next time I see you, I will give you the shirt off my back.
Melody: You just want me to see you naked.
Nash: Naked, ok, I like where this is going. Tell me more.
She begins to type, but she keeps erasing it. She really would like to see him naked. Maybe she should be honest? No way, that would scare him off. Although he did start it, well, no, actually, she kind of did.
Melody: I'll just let you use your imagination.
Melody: Sweet dreams, Nash ;)
There, the winky face is flirty, right? Wait, does anyone use that anymore? My students said that only old people use emojis. Oh, man.
Nash: Wait, no! Come back! I want to talk about being naked with you.
Nash: Fine. Have it your way, temptress.
