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“I’ve got a torch,” he said, though god she wished he hadn’t. Now she had to either sayNo, don’t put it on, and explain why, orYes, go aheadand endure him actually seeing her in this state.
Because itdidfeel like a state.
She couldn’t seem to stop squirming, or biting her lip, or breathing hard. And of course every time she did, that ridiculous underwear she had on just seemed to slide over everything she least wanted it to slide against. It felt like she was being caressed every five seconds by the silkiest hands in the world.
All of which was definitely making everything worse.
She almost wanted to put her hands or arms over her chest just in case the situation going on there was remotely visible. But then how would that look if she did? Probably like she was desperately trying to hide something, instead of just being a normal person doing normal things.
You’re fine, you’re fine, you seem fine, she tried to tell herself.
About twenty seconds before Alfie suddenly gruffed out:
“If you want, I can get out of the car so you can do something about this.”
As if all he wanted was a replay of the whole thing in the hall.
Even though this time, there was absolutely no way she could let him get it.
She was going to be the one with the sandwich at the end, here, even if she had to lie even harder than she had the first time he’d clocked her losing it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I am totally okay,” she said.
Convincingly, too, it seemed to her.
Not that it mattered in the slightest.
“Mabel, you look like you’re about to die of terminal horniness.”
“How would you know? You can’t even see me. It’s pitch-black in here.”
“Not sure it being pitch-black really matters at this point. In fact, I reckon we could be down a fucking coal mine at the end of time and I’d be able to clock this, love. You’re practically glowing. It’s like being opposite a radioactive furnace.”
She tried not to wince over that.
Mostly so she could sound confident when she responded.
“Oh, don’t exaggerate. I’m barely warm,” she said as breezily as possible.
But he wasn’t having it. Of course he wasn’t. “If you were barely warm you would have wrapped yourself in your coat by now. Yet somehow you haven’t.”
“Well, maybe it was just too hot in the arena. And too hot in here.”
“Possibly. But then that wouldn’t explain why your nipples look that fucking obscene, would it? So could be you want to pretend it’s freezing if you would prefer to have that particular base covered. And I’m guessing you would, judging by the way you keep trying to cover them without actually making any contact whatsoever.”
“Jesus Christ, do you have eyes made out of night vision goggles?”
“Mabel, I’m pretty much a mole, as you well know. Not to mention completely against copping a look from unsuspecting women. You’re just so turned on that your diamond-hard nipples are capable of leaping directly into my eyes.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Mostly because arguing was apparently really difficult when you were this embarrassed and turned on and also kind of wanting to laugh at some bastard’s funny turn of phrase. But also, just because it was impossible to, when that same bastard had you bang to rights.
So now she had to come up with something like an excuse.
“Well, I told you what your kissing does to me,” she tried.
And it worked about as well as she imagined it would.
“But you started it this time,” he said, plainly outraged at her nerve. His voice even went high on the end. She couldn’t give in, however. She was already ten goals behind in the game of not giving away that you really want to fuck your friend way more than he would ever want to fuck you.
“Only because you looked at me.”
