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Lillian comes out the back door, leaving the others to do all the work. She sets my cocktail on the table and sits by the fire on one of the patio chairs.
“Those smell wonderful,” she says.
I can see Channa through the kitchen window. She wrestles her hair up into a messy bun and continues her work. Deb says something that makes her laugh. The sound of it floats out the open window and sends a thrill through me. She lifts her head and catches my eye. I wink at her and watch her look down and blush. I have to have her tonight. I can’t wait any longer. I need to be with her again. I need to make the most of our time together before she leaves.
“Thanks,” I say to Lillian, almost forgetting she’d said anything.
“Handsome, a hard worker, and a good cook? Triple threat. You’re going to make a fine husband one day.”
I shrug off the compliment, thinking she’s just trying to make conversation to cut through the silence as we wait for the others to join us. But then she moves to one of the chairs beside me, away from the fire even though it’s freezing out. She’s not doing anything overtly flirty, but I’m sensing a change in her that I don’t like.
The rain continues to pour down faster than the ground can absorb it. Luckily the cover over the porch is a sturdy one and the ground is sloped enough to keep us from getting wet. Too bad it doesn’t leak enough to give her a reason to go inside. I don’t like where this is leading.
Lillian is wearing a short skirt and a sweater. I glance over just in time to see her hike her skirt up a little more when she adjusts her position.
Shit.
I’ve been too distracted by Channa to notice Lillian. Now that I think of it, she’s constantly been doing little things like this to get my attention. I haven’t thought too much about it, but I’m fairly certain she’s trying to flirt with me.
I ignore the compliment and keep my head down. I don’t want to give her any ideas. There’s no way I would ever be attracted to someone like Lillian. She’s the kind of girl most men would go for, but not me. There are a million girls out there with blond hair, big personalities, and even bigger boobs, but all I see when I look at those girls is someone who didn’t get enough attention as a child—or maybe too much. With Channa, she is who she is. Take it or leave it. She’s not trying to impress anyone. She’s smart, well read, and just … special. I can’t explain it entirely. Some people have that unique something and she has it in spades.
Channa and Deb come out and put the food on the coffee table along with dishes and silverware, while Lillian hands out the drinks she made earlier. I let out a sigh of relief when Lillian pulls her skirt down to cover her legs.
We sit down to eat. Channa moves to sit next to me, but Lillian beats her too it. Channa looks shocked and confused, a little mad. Our eyes meet and I see the same discomfort in her expression that I feel in my own. We both seem to know Lillian’s intentions, but we’re both afraid to say anything. I don’t want to bring up the fact that Channa and I are … I’m not exactly sure what we are, but we’re something, and in that something there’s only room for us. I know she wants to keep our relationship from her friends, but if Lillian keeps up with this shit, I’m going to have to put a quick stop to it.
I’m hoping with as much as she’s drinking, Lillian will be quick to pass out. But the more she drinks, the more obvious her flirtations become until I’m downright uncomfortable.
“How is a guy like you single?” she says and leans her head on my shoulder. I stiffen, looking at Channa for a way out. Channa bites her lip and looks away. I can tell she’s uncomfortable too.
“Just not interested in that sort of thing right now,” I lie.
“Well, we should put an end to that, shouldn’t we?” she says. “We should enjoy ourselves while we have the time. We’re only here another week.”
Clearly she’s not getting the not-so-subtle hints I’m throwing at her.
Her hand goes to my knee. When it slides up toward my lap, I’ve had enough. I stand abruptly, almost knocking her on the ground. My plate skitters to the ground but doesn’t break, scattering food all over the ground. She struggles to right herself and looks up at me with a glare.
“What the hell?” she says.
“I’m sorry. I can’t,” I say.
