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There’s a small splash of water and then a moan. It’s small, almost more of a sigh, but my body responds. My pants do nothing to hide my erection, so I face the yard, staring into the darkness and willing my feet to move.
What am I waiting for? The willpower to walk away or the lapse of control to turn around and look at Sara?
I give in.
Sara sits up to her chin in the water, her eyes closed. A lump of disappointment sits in my chest.
Wet, slippery women have invited me to join them countless times in hot tubs. My hot tub memories are full of drunken Ram and women making out and the slide of skin and casual fucks.
This moment is anything but. With her eyes closed, head tilted back, tension leaching off of her, Sara could be a nymph or sprite.
And here I stand, staring at her, the big bad wolf.
Out of all the women I could lust after, I’ve picked my sweet, wholesome roommate.
14
Sara
It’sa little hard to pay attention to my cooking when Chris is outside looking all broody and contemplative.
Last night, the hot tub was supposed to be relaxing. The cool air had nipped at me, the heated water soaking my body that was sore from a particularly grueling advanced class I had recorded the day before.
But that was nothing compared to catching Chris staring at me. He looked away quickly, but it was enough for me to tighten with need.
I’ve seen more of Chris in the week since I returned from Rome than I had the three weeks prior. While we’re not exactly doing stuff together, we both seem to be gravitating toward spending time around each other. Instead of being back in his studio, Chris often sits on the couch and writes while I sit at the kitchen table. We’re in sight of each other, and sometimes, when he’s not paying attention, I look up and watch him work.
He doodles a lot. I find spiral notebooks everywhere or pages he ripped out, his frustration apparent even in the drawings.
Tonight, while I’m preparing my dinner, he’s outside again. It’s dark out, the days getting shorter. His notebooks cover the table, the floodlights illuminating the space of the patio but not much else. The Black Forest beyond is a void that the light can’t touch.
Chris tilts his head back in the chair, and I wonder if he can see the stars or if the lights are blinding him. His hair is in a bun, which is how he usually wears it when he’s working. Earlier in the day, it’s up at the top, but as time moves on, it gets looser and migrates down his scalp. He redoes it constantly, but he also lets his hands wander and play with the bun, tug at it, absentmindedly pull it apart.
My phone pings with a message from Tessa. Luc’s visiting her this weekend, and they’ve been doing fun things around Tavira.
Tessa
You won’t believe what I did today
I went to a topless beach! With Luc!
There’s a picture attached, though it’s PG—Tessa and Luc from the shoulders up, with a wide beach and giant cliffs behind them.
Tessa
I knew this was a thing, but I’ve never done it before.
Emma
Were there a lot of people around?
Tessa
Some. Now that summer is over, it’s not as crowded as it was.
Honestly, I only lasted about five minutes before I put my top back on again.
But Luc’s having a good time . . .
