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“No.” I kick off my heels before spinning to smirk at him. “Just a little tipsy.”
“Fun night?”
“Eh.” I feel awkward standing, so I walk over to him, dropping down on the opposite end of the couch. I tuck my feet up under my dress. “I got bored.”
“Dancing and drinking usually put me to sleep too.”
I roll my eyes and lean back. “Whatever. What are you doing?”
He points at the screen.
“I don’t know anything about baseball,” I tell him.
“No?” he mock gasps. “You, the massive sports fan who’s been to Georgia once?”
“Shut up.” But there’s a weird warmth in my chest. Unlike the guys I talked to tonight, Will knows me. Knows I’m not athletic and I’ve been to the States one time. And I like that he knows those things about me—remembered those things about me—way more than I should.
He smiles, but it fades quickly. He’s staring at me so intently; it burns. I feel stripped and raw under his close scrutiny.
“What are you doing here, Sophia?”
“I told you, I got bored.”
“You got bored out at a club, so you came to my apartment to watch baseball?”
“Yes.” I rub one of the red marks my heels left. “Why was your week shitty?”
Will looks away, at the computer screen. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I should go. He’s all but asking me to. But I remember that flash in his expression when he opened the door, similar to the flush that feels like it’s spreading across my skin right now. I look away, at his empty bookshelf.
He inhales. “Sorry. How was your week?”
“It was…” Complaining about my classes or sharing my stress about deciding which photo to submit to the EPAs sounds silly. Mentioning a low point was never hearing from him is even more off-limits. It’s bad enough—desperate enough—that I showed up here. I don’t chase guys. They’ve always pursued me. “It was fine.”
“You’re lying.”
I glance at him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Something twists in Will’s expression when I parrot the same line he told me back to him.
“I’ll go. Enjoy your baseball.”
He reaches for me as I stand, and the combination of me moving and him pulling ends with me half sprawled in his lap. I scramble to straighten, then freeze when I feel his reaction.
“Sophia.” Will mutters my name like a curse.
He’s looking at me with so much heat and intensity that I forget how to breathe for a few seconds. My stomach flips repeatedly, tumbling around like it’s inside a washing machine.
Then, I circle my hips slowly, feeling him swell even more. I might not be as experienced as he is, but I know what an erection feels like.
The air surrounding us manages to thicken even more, contracting tight and turning tangible. Pulling us closer together, it feels like.
“Do you like my dress?” I ask, deliberately rocking into him again.
His head tilts back, the tendons of his neck straining against tan skin. He looks pained, but I think it’s a good thing. That he wants this, not that he’s trying to get me off his lap without hurting my feelings.
“It’s short.”
