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I frown. “I don’t hate you.” She thinks I hate her?
“Or dislike me, or whatever.” She waves away the mistruth with a hand, not giving me a chance to contradict her. “This morning—” She swallows so hard I can hear the click in her throat. “Um, so…yeah. This morning, I kind of—”
“I know,” I say, saving her from having to say out loud the words that are turning her face red.
Her eyes go wide. “You—” They go even wider. “Know?” She draws out the word, and her blush deepens.
“I’m not blind. Saw you when I came up to take a shower.”
“Wh—why—well—” Her eyes bug out. She’s tripping over her words and blushing up a storm, and she’s cute as hell. I might not be able to touch her, but it sure is fun getting a rise out of her. “Why did youdothat, then?” she shrieks. “Why didn’t you tell me to get lost so you could have privacy?”
“I didn’t want privacy.”
She stares at me.
I heave a sigh. “Look, I’ve got this exhibitionist streak, okay.” And some other kinky streaks, too. “You and I—” I motion between us, “can’t ever get busy between the sheets.” Or against the wall, or on the hood of a car, or any of the other scenarios I’ve indulged in the safe space of my imagination. “You gotta know that up front. All there can ever be between us is touching ourselves in front of each other. If you want that. If not, then—” I shrug. “We can be platonic, or whatever the kids call it these days.”
Cora stares at me some more. “That’s…seriously the most I’ve ever heard you talk at one time.” She shakes her head like she’s clearing it. There’s a question in her eyes. “Um, so you—you don’t hate me, you just don’t want to…uh, ‘get busy’ with me?”
I nod, giving her the confirmation she’s seeking. Since she showed up here, I’ve given it a lot of thought. I want her. Of course, I want her. And thanks to Jud, I have to be alone with her one night a week. I can’t fuck her, can’t touch her at the risk of hurting her or getting carried away and planting a baby in her. But that doesn’t mean we can’t makeourselvescome when we’re together.
I like being watched. Fuck, I don’t even care who’s watching. I jacked myself in the pen all the damn time while my cell mate rolled his eyes and told me to “put that fucking club away.” I do it in my bed just about every day no matter who happens to be there. In fact, I usually wait until someone’s around. I did it in front of Melissa. A lot. She did it too. We’d make ourselves come, and then we’d fuck, our bodies loose and already sated. The fucking could go on for hours then, and it often did.
Cora blinks like the world’s cutest owl. “So, you did that on purpose.” Another statement. “And you want to do it in front of me more. And you want me to—” I didn’t think her face could get any redder, but it does. She swallows again. “To dothatin front of you. That is what you’re telling me.”
My face feels funny, and I realize I’m smiling. It comes from somewhere deep down, somewhere that hasn’t been touched in a long time. It’s because she’s so damn cute and innocent and pretty and honest. It’s the way she talks, turning questions into statements and saying“that”instead of what it is: masturbating.
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
She hugs herself, looking like her brain is working overtime. “So, you don’t hate me?” This time her voice goes up at the end in this sweet, insecure way. Her eyebrows slant to match.
“I don’t fucking hate you, Cora. I just don’t want to risk hurting you.” Or worse, getting her pregnant. Jesus. I can’t believe she thinks I hate her. Maybe I could be a little warmer. I don’t want her thinking I’m not into her, because I am. God, I am. It just can’t ever go anywhere.
All the insecurity leaves her face. It’s replaced by relief. She perks up and says, “Okay. Great!” She’s on her feet and reaching out her hand to me. “Then, come on. I want to show you something.”
I don’t take her hand. There’s no way she could do anything but hurt herself trying to leverage me off the couch. “No touching,” I say, reminding her while I unfold myself from so close to the damn floor.
She rolls her eyes. “You all are so bossy.” She huffs a wisp of hair out of her face and doesn’t bat an eye as I rise up to my full height, well, almost. The cabin ceilings are exactly seven feet. I know because that’s how tall I am, and the button on top of my hat scrapes the plaster, even with me hunching my shoulders. If I rose up on my toes, I’d punch through to the attic space.
Cora withdraws her hand with a shrug. “Fine. No touching.” She bounces on her toes as she leads me into a hallway, and I can’t help a dart of annoyance that she’s not more upset about my no touching rule. I guess I wanted her to be disappointed, or something, and now, I’m disappointed she’s not disappointed. Whatever. That’s “feelings” shit, and I’m going to ignore it. I’m not letting myself feel for Cora, since it can’t ever go anywhere.
I follow her into a narrow hallway that leads to a bedroom and bathroom and find her standing in the open doorway of the bedroom.
“Ta-da!” she says, motioning inside.
I duck to look through the standard-height frame. She squeezes past me with the oil lamp, and the room grows brighter with golden light. It can’t be bigger than ten by twelve, and, surprisingly, almost the entire floor space is covered with bed.
I blink to make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. Yep. There’s a chest of drawers by the door, a bedside table against the wall with the window, and the rest of the room is taken up with a massive bed that has to be seven feet by seven feet. It’s like a California King on steroids, and there’s barely enough room to walk around the thing on three sides. It’s made up with a comforter the size of a tarp that looks to have been sewn together from several other comforters of similar hues ranging from off-white to tan.
“Doc and Scrap helped me make it today,” she says. “You want to try it out?”
She sets the lamp on the dresser beside a bunch of unlit candles and dives onto the bed. It takes her a while, but she crawls up to the head, where four pillows rest against a headboard of corrugated steel roofing framed with thick timbers. Spreading her arms, she looks ridiculously small on the bed, like an inchworm on a giant lily pad.
“Well? Come on up!” She scoots to the far edge. “No touching. Scouts honor.” She makes the two-fingered gesture, and it’s my turn to stare in disbelief.
“You did this for me?” I duck through the door and run my hand along the mattress. It sits up higher than a normal bed, like it was made specifically for a big guy. I sit on the edge. The frame doesn’t groan at my weight.
“Doc and Scrap did the frame and mattress, and I did the bedding. Don’t expect seamless comfort. I stink at using a sewing machine, but I’ll get better. On the next scavenge, Doc’s going to get several of the same bedding sets, so eventually, everything will be all matchy-matchy.”
