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Dylan
Something in the form of Andrew’s little glances is making the blood rush all over my body. I can hardly take it when my heart beats as the sun catches his freckles just right. I have no idea how to deal with it.
Things are changing. Sometimes I think about having sex with him and I can’t let go of it.
It doesn’t help that he blushes whenever I compliment him, or he presses his strong body so close against mine when we hug.
Memories of his moans and his hips and his arousal are always in the back of my mind, taunting me, especially when we’re trying to work.
In the past couple of weeks, we were able to find a small office to rent for cheap. It’s simple and has a reception area with no desk. We don’t really use that spot because we don’t have customers, but we set a table and water machine out there anyway.
The two of us work in the big office in the back. We pressed our desks together, so we’re always facing each other - it’s great, but also seriously distracting. I really need to focus on organizing and investors, but Andrew’s biceps look like they’re about to rip through his shirt.
“What?” Andrew asks.
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you looking at me?”
“How did you even know I was? You never turned your head.”
“I can feel you staring, now tell me what’s up. What are you looking at?”
“Nothing… you just look nice today.”
Andrew’s looking at me with shock written all over his face.
“Thanks. You do too, but then again, you look nice everyday, so…”
I wonder if my face is burning as badly as his.
“I’m, um… I’m going to grab some water; do you want some?” Andrew asks, standing up at his desk and showing off his strong frame.
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
He leaves and I see how empty my cup is. My throat is dry as hell, why didn’t I say yes?
I immediately grab my cup and follow him.
“I thought you said-”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“What’s going on with you today?”
Andrew’s leaning is leaning against the table next to the water dispenser.
“I can tell something’s on your mind, Dylan. Talk to me.”
Even though he’s only an inch taller than me, sometimes it feels like he towers above me. I think he knows this because when he’s trying to be gentle, he leans over like he is now, meeting me at eye level. His lips are dangerously close to mine.
I wonder if he can see my eyes flick to them. They’re so pink and soft looking.
“You.”
“What?”
“You’re what’s been on my mind.”
