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Wrapping a second towel around me, I walk into the bedroom, my eyes zeroing in on the nightstand and the bottle resting on top of it. I bite my lip, amused and horny at the thought of Fallon using it to jack off. I wonder what he thought about, my pussy throbbing from imagining it was me.
I grab the bottle and sit on the bed rubbing the cream into my skin. Opening the drawer, I can’t help but continue to explore, my earlier unease gone. My lips curl in astonishment at the stack of magazines and reading glasses thrown about. I expected them to be Playboys, but most are Sports Illustrated and SkipShot. I pull out the water polo magazines, not knowing of its existence before. Probably because my mom wouldn’t have been able to afford a subscription even if I did. A faint flush works up my neck when I see the birthday card I made him stuffed behind the magazines, my little heart warming that he kept it.
I go to sit down to glance through the magazines when I realize I’m casually standing naked in his bedroom. A flush courses through me and I find a t-shirt to pull over my head, shielding some of my body as it falls mid-thigh. I let my damp hair go and run my fingers through it, making a note to ask Fallon when he gets back if he has a brush or comb.
That’s how he finds me, flipping through the magazine in his shirt on top of his bed. He pauses in the doorway, his fist tightening over the plastic bag he’s holding. His mouth drops open as he takes me in.
“What?” I ask, shy at the intense stare.
He swallows. “I like you in my clothes.”
“Oh.” I blush.
Fallon shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts and walks over to me, setting the bag at my feet. I recognize the logo and scrunch my nose.
“Sandwiches?”
Fallon scoffs. “Don’t diss submarines like that. They are better than sandwiches.”
“I literally think they’re the same thing. Where’s my phone? This is a debate that only Google can solve.”
He lets out a playful growl before grabbing me around the waist and tickling my sides for a few seconds as I screech.
“Just trust me, I know what I’m talking about.” Fallon settles next to me, handing me the sandwich he ordered for me and then tears into his.
I eat silently, enjoying how blissfully domestic this feels. Like this is how everything is supposed to be. There are no awkward, tense silences anymore. We are comfortable in each other’s presence.
“What volume were you looking at?” he asks, nodding at the stacks of SkipShot on his bed in between a bite.
Blushing, I grab the magazines and shove them back into his drawer. “Sorry, I was looking for lotion after my shower and…”
Fallon pauses, his sandwich halfway to his mouth as his wide eyes turn to me.
I can’t hold back the laugh that escapes my throat and he puts his food down with a shake of his head.
“I’d like to say that’s not what it looks like, but it’s exactly what it looks like,” he says.
I shrug. “I’m not judging.”
“I can assure you it was never water polo magazines.”
“That’s good to know,” I say through tight lips, trying not to laugh again.
His eyes narrow. “I’m serious. Not even the one with you in it.”
Shock clears my amusement away. “I’m in one of those?”
Fallon looks at me curiously. “Yeah? You didn’t know?”
“I honestly didn’t even know it existed till I saw the pile in your drawer,” I say, picking up my sandwich and taking a bite so I don’t have to explain further.
He nods, grabbing his food too. “Most people just view them on the website. I have a buddy who likes to print them and send them out.”
“What did it say about me?”
Fallon grins. “Said you were one to watch out for. Up and coming star.”
I roll my eyes. “No, it didn’t.”
