Page 29 of Two’s Better

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. Shit. So was mine.

“Um. I’ll text you?” he said, and I shifted out of the way as he made his way to the door.

“Yeah,” I said again.

“Goodnight, Fure.” He smiled, and there my heart went, fluttering happily away. “Thank you for an amazing date.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one thanking you?”

“We can thank each other.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Get out of my room.”

He laughed, darted forward to plant a quick kiss on my lips, then he was gone.

I sank heavily onto my bed after I’d heard the front door open and shut, touching my lips like they were a foreign object. My heart hadn’t stopped fluttering. And even though my pussy was mourning a ruined orgasm, still weakly throbbing, needy and unfulfilled, I couldn’t help but still think that this was the best date I’d ever been on. From beginning to end, hands down.

And I desperately ignored the tiny, growing fear that when this thing between us was eventually over, possibly nothing—and no one—was ever going to compare.

9

I couldn’t concentrate for shit. It was Monday evening, and Ofure and I were with our Atelier mates in the library, brushing up our portfolios before Studio tomorrow.

To my left, Taemin sat, looking cool as a cucumber as the South Korean always did, rectangular glasses perched high on his nose, his straight dark hair falling messily over his forehead. Olivia—the only white, British member of our group—sat to Taemin’s left, and had her hands pressed to her pale cheeks, which were splotchy and red with stress, her light brown hair pulled up into a messy ponytail. Next to her sat Katerina, Greece-born and with the amusing tendency—at least to the rest of us—to sound like she was cracking a joke when she spoke, no matter what she said. She had headphones balanced on her mass of shoulder-length brunette curls, her head bobbing to music we couldn’t hear, freckled pale brown skin glowing slightly with sweat from the brief run she’d done earlier to get some snacks and drinks from the cafeteria downstairs.

And next to her, and to my immediate right, sat Ofure, who’d finally found her groove a few minutes earlier and was focused hard on her work.

I, on the other hand, for the life of me, could not pay attention to anything on earth but the woman sitting beside me. Since our date on Saturday, it felt like I had a singular obsession—like I was possessed by some Ofure-hungry demon.

We hadn’t been able to hang out at all yesterday; Ofure worked her events job on Wednesdays and Saturdays, while I worked my job at a local meat packing factory on Fridays and Saturdays. Since we’d both taken Saturday off for our date, and after all the money I’d spent, I definitely had to make up all that time lost on Sunday. I worked night shifts and Ofure worked during the day, so we hadn’t been able to see each other at all yesterday, spending the entire time texting and sending memes.

In hindsight, it felt slightly surreal. I’d literally had her tongue in my mouth, her ass in my hand, while she’d humped my leg like she was on fire, and I’d ground my hard dick against her hip like some mindless beast. Then we hadn’t addressed any of it while we’d texted, doing our usual shit of sending funny videos and talking about random nonsense, like our date had never happened.

When I’d seen her this morning—we had lectures, and we always walked to the lecture hall together—I hadn’t known what to do with my hands. With my body. She’d seemed just as awkward for a moment, her greeting smile slightly strained.

I’d wanted to kiss her. Hold her hand, but not in our usual platonic way. And for a moment, it seemed she’d wanted it, too, because we began moving toward each other with a single, obvious determination at the same time.

Then we’d both simultaneously seemed to remember our agreement about making sure this thing we were doing stayed private, and had ended up hugging stiffly instead. Perhaps the hug had lingered a little longer than usual. And maybe the scent of her fruity perfume—and the feel of her soft, thick body against mine—had made my dick plump slightly. But if she’d been reacting to the hug the way I had, we’d both acted like nothing was amiss when it was over.

By the time we began walking and talking, the awkwardness had faded and everything felt normal again.

Even though I understood why we’d put that privacy rule in place, I suddenly, desperately wanted to discard it. Fuck everybody else and what they might think. Why couldn’t I kiss her and touch her the way I now wanted to, any time I wanted to?

Because she’s not really your girlfriend? A small insidious voice whispered. All of this is simply a means to an end. A build up to “that” moment, and then ...

And then ... what?

Anxiety tried to claw at me, and would you look at that, suddenly I found myself able to focus on my work. Why was I even thinking about her in the context of being my girlfriend, anyway? This was strictly about sex.

The way my heart had started jolting every time I looked at her, and my belly had started twisting in on itself every time she so much as smiled at me obviously had everything to do with this new, blazing sexual attraction and absolutely nothing else.

All I had to do was stick to the boundaries we’d set, and once this was said and done—once we’d given each other that “perfect” first time—we’d go back to the way we were and everything would be fine. Right? Right.

I forcefully focused on my portfolio, fiddling around with the design of my sheets until I managed to succeed in distracting myself, only looking up when I heard and felt Ofure’s phone buzzing on the table in front of us. I spied the caller-ID before she picked it up. Only the fact that I was so tuned to her every movement today made me notice the subtle way she stiffened when she glanced at the flashing screen.

Her voice sounded normal when she answered the call, and I had a moment of doubt. She began to stand, giving me a little smile and wave, mouthing that it was her dad. I nodded, watching her as she left the table for some privacy.

Then I frowned. Even though she’d smiled just now, I noticed it hadn’t reached her eyes. And her movements as she walked toward the ceiling-high windows seemed a little too relaxed to be normal, her shoulders tense. I turned back to my laptop if only to keep her from catching me watching her, just in case something was wrong. If she noticed that I’d caught on to something, she’d probably clam up.