Page 57 of Don’t Be A Stranger

“Don’t be gross, jackass.”

Thatcher puts his hands up in defense and the weight on my chest begins to settle at the sight of him no longer touching Summer.

Summer rolls her eyes and goes to stand up. “Thanks for the offer, Thatcher, but no.” Her tone is playful.

Instead of Summer walking around the coffee table from the easier side, she scoots past everyone else on the couch until she gets to me. When she does, Summer conveniently trips, just enough for her to rest her hand on my thigh to regain her balance. She doesn’t say anything, just keeps that damn sucker resting in her mouth. Summer squeezes my thigh and then continues on her way like she’s innocent or something.

I thought that with her leaving it’d be easier for me to catch my breath or pay attention to the screen. Or even for me to remember that no matter how hot my skin feels, I can’t do anything about it because our friends are in very close proximity.

Resisting the urge to not follow Summer is near impossible.

She has to know what she’s doing, right?

Right?

What if I’m wrong? What if I follow her and I end up looking like an idiot because Summer tells me that this would be too much of a risk, and this is definitely not part of our deal. But oh god, what if she lets me in? Not just into the bathroom, but into the spot between her legs where I can keep my dick warm inside of her.

Okay, fine. Fuck it. I can’t take this anymore.

I stand up a little too abruptly because everyone’s eyes are back on me.

“Sorry.” I clear my throat. “I can feel a headache coming on so I’m going to grab some meds.”

I really do seem to lie easily when I might have the chance to fuck Summer in my bathroom.

Neither Moose nor Bethany bat an eye, but Chris and Thatcher still don’t seem to understand the reasoning behind the specific TV settings or why I’d get a headache to begin with. They don’t seem to be able to retain any information I told them about my achromatopsia.

I didn’t even plan on telling them but Moose feels the need to point it out anytime someone comes over. I understand that he’s just trying to help, but I’ve gone twenty years of not telling most people.

Mainly because of people like Chris and Thatcher who started to point at things and ask me what color I saw, despite explaining that I don’t know. I don’t even need the excuse of wanting to get Summer alone to want to spend less time around either of them.

“Do you want us to wait for you?” Bethany asks.

“No.” I shake my head. “It’s yours and Thatcher’s turn anyway. I’ll be right back.”

And I’m already walking down the hallway toward Summer.

Nineteen

River

I try to keep my walk casual and not so desperate, but the closer I get to the bathroom, the more I ditch the effort.

Bethany’s laughter echoes down the hallway and I take the opportunity of them already being distracted to lightly tap my index finger on the bathroom door. Not even two seconds later, Summer is pulling the door open and tugging me in. She leans her back against the now closed and locked door, and that damn sucker is still in her mouth for no other reason than to push me over the edge.

“It took you long enough.” Her voice is soft and aware enough to know our friends are close by.

I ignore her comment and lean back against the counter, arms crossed. “Thatcher, huh?”

“He’s cute, I guess.” She shrugs.

This girl is unbelievable and she doesn’t bother to be nonchalant about it.

“You guess?” I arch my eyebrow. “You were all over him.”

“I was.”

This has to be some sort of sick game that Summer is playing. There’s no way she’s naive about any of this, that’s just not Summer.