AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The show starts, and she has to tell me who people are and what’s happening. We laugh at the same parts and there’s a lot more sex talk than I thought there would be, which makes it hard since I haven’t had any in a few months. The one couple’s sex scene goes on and on, and the longer we sit there, our bowls of rice done and on our third beers, the harder it becomes to ignore the rising tension between us. I have to resituate myself, but if Brinley notices, she doesn’t say anything.
“I wish I could be like her,” she says about the main character. “She’s so sure of herself.”
I frown. “Why are you not?”
“I don’t know. I think about when I was in high school and how I was then. So confident.”
“Lots of teenagers have an inflated sense of ego, I think.”
She nods. “I know, but my high school was a small school, and everyone knew everyone. I didn’t go to one of those high schools you see in television shows or movies. There wasn’t a guy I didn’t think I could get.”
“And you think there’s a guy now that you couldn’t get?” I arch an eyebrow.
She looks down her nose at me. “I’m not looking.”
“But if you were, you do know you could grab any guy on the street and they’d take you home, right?”
I’m probably stepping over a line here, but I hate seeing women feel insecure. Although it’s not my mom’s fault that she found herself in a verbally abusive relationship, I believe her insecurity kept her there, convincing her she couldn’t do any better. He saw that weakness and doubled down. I tried to get her to leave with me at sixteen, but… I shake my head, clearing the memory.
Brinley is not my mother and doesn’t have bad self-esteem. She’s just recently divorced and is still working through all that emotional baggage.
“You’re sweet and trouble.” She points the mouth of her beer bottle at me.
“Trouble?”
She shakes her head and stands, then disappears into the kitchen with our empty bowls. I pause the show and follow her.
“You know exactly why you’re trouble. You can’t look like you do and be sweet too. It’s too much.”
I hold up my hands while she rinses the bowls. “You can’t blame me for how I look, you’ll have to blame God for that one.” I lean my hip on the counter with my arms crossed.
A loud laugh falls out of her, then she stares at me. “I didn’t take you for being conceited.”
“It’s not conceit, it’s confidence. I have mirrors, and yes, I’ve been blessed with this amazing face and body, but my personality, that’s all me.” I’m not really serious. I mean, I’m aware I’m attractive to some, but I’d pick a good personality over a good ass any day of the year.
She turns after finishing with the bowls and stares at me. “Share some of that confidence with me, will you?”
Tension sizzles like a live wire between us. I step toward her, and the room grows smaller. Unable to resist even the smallest touch, I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear and tip her head up to look at me. Those eyes are begging, pleading for me to make her feel her worth. Show her how attractive I find her. All the talk about how nothing could happen went out the window in the few hours since we sat and watched television.
My hand cradles her head, my thumb running along her cheek. “The first thing I thought when I saw you in the diner was how gorgeous you were. How of course you were at a table with two guys because a woman like you would never be starved for male attention. I wondered if I’d been a half hour earlier if I could’ve been the guy sitting with you. And when, who I now know is your cousin, kissed you on the forehead, I thought I’d never be able to keep my lips from yours if it were me.”
Her shoulders relax. It’s as if we’re gasoline and someone lit the match. Our bodies lean in, and I bend my head while she rises to her tiptoes. All the doubts vanish when her tongue slides along her lips.
“You’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful,” I murmur, millimeters away from our lips touching.
Her eyes meet mine and we both breathe heavily, our breath fanning the other’s face. The longer our eyes soak in the other, hers transform and all that lust and longing are replaced with trepidation.
She gently pushes me back. “I’m so sorry. I can’t.”
She runs to her room, and the door slams shut.
With a sigh, I look down at my hardening dick. “Guess we fucked that up.”
Nine
Brinley
There’s a soft knock on the door. “I’m really sorry, Brinley,” Van says.
