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He rubs the point of contact while I roll my eyes, “You know exactly what that was for. The laugh?”
“I couldn’t help it.That means a lot coming from you? We both know the only thing you were thinking about is how spectacular his goatee is looking today.”
Biting back a smile, I shrug in response, “The amount of effort he puts into that patch of hair pays off.”
Stroking his chin like a villain from a bad action movie, Wes muses out loud, “Maybe I should grow a goatee. Think I could pull it off?”
“Absolutely not.” My response comes out louder than intended and a few students turn our way. I awkwardly duck my head but not before Professor Anderson visually reprimands me from across the room. Pretty sure my essay compliment has already been retracted.
Snickering, Wes draws my attention back to his handsome face. “Like my baby face too much, do you?” I cough, trying and failing to contain my blush.
Our make out session happened a few days ago, but so far things have been normal with Wes. Well, as normal as things can be when you have an attractive friend who happens to be a phenomenal kisser. We haven’t hung out since the HSM/kissing marathon, but so far he’s acting as though nothing has changed. He still stops to talk to me in the hall, sends me the occasional meme, and saved me a seat for psych class.
I have no idea what we are – or ifweare even a thing – but so far I have been trying to follow Wes’ lead. And as of right now, that means being friends who had a little make out session. Nothing less, nothing more.
“Mm, it’s okay,” my offhand comment puts a mischievous gleam in Wes’ vibrant eyes.
That’s never a good sign.
In attempt to be a competent student, I turn my attention away from the smoldering man beside me and look towards the ongoing PowerPoint presentation. I flip open my notebook with the intention to start taking notes when a pen hits my leg. I raise my eyebrows in Wes’ direction but he’s already halfway under the desk.
I’m almost done scribbling the first slide when a warm hand wraps around my ankle. I freeze as the hand slowly starts to snake upward. My body quickly unfreezes and starts to squirm as Wes’ fingers make their way up my calf, inching their way higher and higher, while a pair of lips follows the trail with teasing kisses.
“Grab your pen and get out from under there. You’re going to get us in trouble,” I hiss the words quietly, trying not to draw attention to us. The person to my left is busy talking to their neighbour and thankfully there’s a wall dividing the rows in front of us, so even if someone looks back, they wouldn’t be able to see Wes.
“I’m testing to see how much you like me clean shaven.” The words themselves are innocent enough but the green eyes peering up from between my legs are anything but.
“Fine, you win, okay? You wi –” My words turn into a sharp inhale as Wes lightly runs his fingertips from the inside of my knee up to my inner thigh. And back down again.
“I like hearing you say that.” He slows the exploration to lazy circles, casually tracing patterns up and down my leg. Thank God I shaved this morning.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” The fingers stall, patiently waiting for my response.
I should say yes. I should say… “No.” The word sounds strangled through my laboured breathing.
If I’m being honest, the thought of someone catching us is more thrilling than uncomfortable. There’s something about the risk factor that makes Wes’ appreciation of my leg shall we say, muchmore exciting. Nothing like keeping one’s virgin status while losing all morals surrounding public decency.
I blame the dimples.
“Good,” he presses one finger against my jean shorts, right on my centre, and I have to grip the edge of the desk as my body clenches with pleasure.
Wes chuckles under the desk and I give him a swift kick. Catching my foot and tugging me forward, he drags his tongue up to the spot where my shorts end and the sensitive skin of my thigh begins. Then he replaces his tongue with his teeth.
The arrogant prick bites me.
I can’t hold back my gasp and my neighbour glances over with concern, "Everything okay?”
The sound of his voice causes both Wes and I to freeze in our respective positions. After a moment of silence, I realize Wes can’t speak without exposing himself, so I hurry to respond.
“Sorry, these topics take me by surprise sometimes. The methods we’re discussing are a lot morehands onthan I’m used to.” My inuendo falls on unsuspecting ears as my friendly neighbour nods in understanding. I feel Wes shake beneath me, trying to hold in his laugh.
He fails.
The seemingly random burst of laughter coming from beneath my desk causes the guy beside me to jump. With a quizzical look, he pulls his chair back to peer under my desk. I silently groan as Wes gives him a cheerful, “Hey there!” from between my legs.
Maybe social isolation wasn’t so bad after all.
“Hey… there,” my neighbour pushes his glasses back up his nose, eyes wide as he takes in the scene in front of him. Taking his cue, Wes climbs back onto his chair like a normal student and holds his pen up in triumph.
