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“You can try,” he says into my hair.
“How did you meet?”
“Online. We were both looking for a connection, I guess. The timing was wrong though, he moved here around the same time I moved to California.”
“You stayed in touch while you were there,” I say. “Did you get to visit each other often?”
“No, but that was more by preference. I wanted to stay focused on getting called up.”
“You sports guys,” I say with an amused sigh. “You all must have really small attention spans or something.”
“Fuck you, Cole.” He tickles my sides, sending me into a fit of laughter.
“Oh my god, stop! I didn’t mean it!”
“Bullshit, you didn’t,” he says when he finally stops attacking my sensitive skin. My shirt’s ridden up a little, leaving a patch bare under his fingers. He hovers over me, nose to nose. If I were a silly woman, I’d think my dreams were about to come true. “Enough about me. Are you dating?”
“Meh.” I scrunch up my nose at him, the tip of mine grazing his. “There’s a guy at school that’s been asking me out a lot.”
“Is his name Damian March?” Zander winks, making me smile.
“Pauly.”
“No, you can’t date a Pauly.”
“That’s what I said!”
“Ooh, Pauly, fuck me harder,” he mocks in a high-pitched voice. My brain malfunctions for a half second when he says fuck me. Luckily, I’m quick to reboot.
“Right? Nothing sexy about ‘shove that big dick in my mouth until you come, Pauly’.”
Everything slows. As if the world has ceased to move at normal speed. Or like in the movies where the camera stays focused on one thing, unmoving, while everything else speeds up. Zander and I no longer align with anything else. His forehead drops to mine, and he lets out a slow breath.
“Debatable,” he mumbles. Now I feel a tickle in my vagina, that dumb ho. “I think we’re missing the movie.”
“I think he’s about to murder her,” I whisper dramatically, widening my eyes in horror. Zander rearranges us yet again; this time we’re lying on our sides. My back to his front, the blanket pulled up to my chin. The woman figures out that she’s fallen in love with a murderer and can’t seem to care.
Waking with drool running down your cheek is never great. Doing it all while your gay friend-slash-man crush has one hand on your boob and one slightly tucked into your pajama shorts is downright mortifying.
We fell asleep watching movies. It must be early still as there is no sunlight streaming through the windows, but it isn’t pitch black either. My guess is dawn is just about on us. I know the team has the day off today, so I want to let Zander sleep in. Does he sleep in on his off days? Does he wake up and workout? He gets morning wood; I can answer that much since it’s digging into my back. I try to shift down with ease, not wanting him to wake up until I’ve at least dislodged from his hold on me. Maybe we can avoid some embarrassment here.
Zander groans, and I freeze in place, holding my breath to help keep me still. After a minute, I try again. An inch is all I need for his hands so they aren’t down my pants and playing with my nipple.
“Willa,” he says, sleepily. The palm at my abdomen presses to hold me in place.
Shit.
Maybe my best move is to just jump up and quickly rush out? Rude, maybe, but less awkward than this, surely. Then Zander moves again, his leg curling over my hip. It’s so warm and cozy here, I mean, everywhere except my head which is utter chaos.
Because what the actual fuck is happening right now?
“Mmm, you’re soft,” he mumbles.
You decidedly are not, Alexander Fane.
“Are you awake,” I whisper so very quietly.
“Hardly,” he says. “Did I molest you in your sleep?”
