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I think she’s over the whole seeing her dad naked with another woman in his bed thing, which is good. For a moment there I thought she was going to faint. And yeah, I was half looking forward to catching her in my arms, but honestly I think she would’ve ended up getting embarrassed and pushed me away.
The thing is, I don’t want her to push me away. I’m having way too much fun with her. She’s a friend. She’s hot. I know what she looks like when she comes.
And I like that.
She hits the start button and the machine turns on. I can hear water pouring into the drum.
“How long does it take?” I ask her.
“About an hour. I put it on the eco setting,” she tells me. “Better for the environment.”
“You care about the environment?” I’m not ribbing her, I’m just interested.
“Of course. I’m a meteorologist. I see every little change in our weather system. Things are getting bad, we all need to try to make things a little better.”
I nod, but I’m distracted by the way her nose wrinkles when she’s being earnest. It causes three little furrows at the top that I want to smooth out.
“Liam?”
“Uhuh?”
She lets out a sigh. “You need to stop looking like that.”
“Like what?” I’m genuinely confused. “This is the way I look. I’m not sure I can change it, not without extensive surgery anyway.”
Sophie rolls her eyes. “I meant your expression. Stop looking at me like… I don’t know.”
“Like I know your orgasm face?” I suggest.
She blinks and I kind of like that. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“But I do, don’t I?” And if I’m being honest, I’m kind of obsessed about it. It’s one of the reasons I was pissed this morning. I was hoping to see it again.
Maybe multiple times.
“I don’t have an orgasm face,” she says testily.
“Yeah you do.”
“No I don’t.” She frowns. “And why are we talking about this, anyway? I thought what happened last night would stay in last night.”
“You’re getting last night confused with Vegas,” I tell her patiently. She lets out what sounds like a strangled groan.
“Seriously, Liam. Last night…”
“Was good?”
Her face softens. “It was lovely. And you were lovely. But can we move on now?” She slides the pack of detergent back on the shelf of her laundry room. Not that it’s really a room, more of a closet really. Just the washer, the dryer, and us.
“I was lovely?” I ask. “That doesn’t sound like high praise.”
She starts to laugh. “Is that what you want? Praise? Okay then. You were amazing. The best. Now can we stop talking about it?”
“What if I don’t want to stop talking about it?” I ask her.
For a moment she says nothing. Those little lines appear again. “Liam, you’re the one with rules. One night, no repeats. We had our night and I’m really hoping we can stay friends. That’s what I want. I like you. I like spending time with you.” She lets out a long breath. “I don’t want to mess things up.” She puts her hand on my chest and pushes me out of the laundry room. I step backward and she steps forward, like we’re in some kind of dance. Then she reaches behind and pulls the door closed, but I still don’t move.
“We didn’t have sex,” I point out.
