Still frozen in your gridlock, you are silently praying for your phone to ring. That would dispel the tension and give you something to do. But no luck! He is shamelessly ogling you, and then his eyes are sliding down your back. It feels as if someone is pouring molten wax on your skin. His eyes are caressing the shoulder blades, the curve of the waist and then his brow cocks up. Fuck, the knickers. The dress was comfy, nothing gauzy, so you went for cotton bikinis. With Tweety Birds.
The ever so curled-up corner of his lips twitches and crawls up. You lick your lips and make up your mind. You are not fifteen, and that’s not the first bloke in your bed. Why would you be nervous, right? Whom are you bloody kidding, your hands are shaking… You lift your bum, bend your back, press your palms on the other side of the bed, across his body, and slowly get up on all four over him. He exhales sharply. In a fluid motion you shift your weight on your legs, and you are kneeling above him, shoulders straight and chin up. It’s your turn to lift a brow.
For a second he is staring at your breasts, and then pounces, pushing you into your sheets. His hands are on your shoulders, and he locks his lips on your mouth. Oh you needed this! He is greedy, skillful, and soon you are opening your mouth for his tongue. It doesn’t disappoint. Fuck, you are already wet! He suddenly sits up pulling you with him, and you are straddling him, your legs around his waist. He buries his hands into your hair and slows down.
He switches to small gentle kisses, your jaw, your neck, your shoulders.
“Wren…” He is murmuring your name into your skin, and you drop your head back. “Wren, I can’t…”
Sure, Phil, whatever you want… Wait, what?! You straighten up, his hands are on your back, and his mouth is pressed into your right shoulder. He is not moving.
“What?” Of course he can. The evidence is pressed into your drenched Tweeties.
“I can’t…” Are you kidding me? “I mean physically I can, but it will just cock everything up…”
Oh no, don’t tell me, now he’s planning to save your friendship! You are considering two options: getting off him and smashing his head with a lamp. Or getting off him and jumping out of the bloody window. You can always do both: lamp, then window. You start shaking. Not your month, Wren, not your month.
He is gently rubbing your shoulder blades. Bloody fuck, how many times have you been rejected in the past forty days?! He looks at you guiltily.
“Wren. I fancy you.”
“Sorry, I think I’m hearing things. I just heard you saying you fancy me.”
He actually pushes you off his lap and moves to the edge of the bed. You grab the duvet and cover up. His uncle’s ‘Miss Leary’ might have been easier to digest. Oh just don’t fucking go there, Wren, not right now… He nods and stares at his hands.
“But you can’t sleep with me?” you ask confused.
“Oh I can,” he murmurs and rubs his face with his palms. “But I don’t want to. I’ve never done it with someone… I care about. It’s not just a shag, don’t you get it?” He looks genuinely upset and a bit peevish. What the fuck is going on with your sex life these days?!
“I’m really not sure what to say here.” Mumble, mumble, Wren is a wonderful conversation companion.
“What can you say? Yeah, you fancy me too, cue rainbows and fucking unicorns. Or you are sorry, but you don’t see me that way. The second is more common. I’ve said it myself hundreds of times.”
“Not exactly the right time to mention this, don’t you think?” You sound grumpy.
“Should I pretend to be a blushing virgin? Some go for it. But I don’t think that’ll work on you.” Yuck, no. Too much emotions. What are you bloody talking about?! You have an eternal playboy going all gooey and mushy on you and spilling his heart to you on your bed… Hell with it all!
“Since from the start. Bollocks, Wren, just in or out, alright?”
“Huh?” Very eloquent, dimwit.
“I am willing to try. With you.” He is giving you an earnest look, but then of course slips. “I am all for new positions.” Never without an innuendo, are we, Philip?
“Dating. Commitment, candles, sunsets, all this shite.”
How romantic! Oh bugger, did you say it out loud? You don’t even like romantic stuff. He picks up your hands.
“Wren…” He is starting in a low sensual voice but can’t keep a straight face, and you both start chuckling.
“Where is this coming from, Phil?” you ask sincerely and look in his eyes.
He is rubbing your knuckles with his thumb and draws eights on your skin. Please, tell me he didn’t observe his uncle doing it. Feels fucking familiar. You jerk your hands out.
“Common, Wren, let’s do it.” His voice can also be raspy and seductive when needed. “It’s going to be a great new adventure.” He pulls you closer, still in a cocoon of blankets, and tilts his head. He is smiling slightly and gives you a cheeky look. “And then me and Tweety are going to have a talk.”
You are actually very proud of yourself. You don’t jump his bones right there, right then. Maybe you have smartened up in the last few weeks.
“I don’t know, Phil… I… Can I think about it?” It sounds stupid, but at least you are honest.
“Sure thing.” He is carefully pulling at a corner of your duvet. “Don’t mind me, I’ll do some bird watching meanwhile.” He already unwrapped your shoulder and places a scorching fluttering kisses on it.
“I’m serious, Phil. It’s not quite my game…” His lips are on your clavicle, and you literally swoon. The room sways, and you grab his shoulders. “And I think I’m going to be sick again.”
That stops him. To his credit, he doesn’t jump away.
“Do you need me to help you to the bathroom?” He sounds genuinely concerned. Fuck.
“No. I’ll manage.”
You scurry off the bed and rush to the bathroom. On your way you pass Thea, who is innocently sipping her tea in the kitchenette.
“Don’t you even fucking start!” you hiss at her and disappear behind the bathroom door. You hear her laugh on the other side.
You splash some cold water on your face and wrap yourself in a robe. It is short and silky, with lacy top and deep cuts on your hips. Shoot, that definitely sends a wrong message. You pull the belt tight. At least you are covered. You brush your teeth, and while your hand is moving frantically, you are thinking. Bugger, bugger, bugger!
The problem is you don’t have an answer. You just don’t know. Do you want it? Do you want him enough? Is it just you being randy and wanting someone to care for you? Especially after… No, Wren, stop it, we bloody agreed not to go there… These are two separate things. But they are not! Somehow, weirdly, it is all connected.
Then you freeze with your toothbrush still deep in your mouth. If you start anything with Phil and at some point, somehow he finds out… Then your past is not going to be some faceless jerks. Wait, but they are not all faceless! There is Killian… He just said ‘from the start.’ If he fancied you, how come he encouraged his brother to date you?
And then last but not the least, you know his past too. And as hypocritical as it is, do you want a bloke who slept with the whole uni? And you might be shallow, but do you want to walk through the halls with him and everyone will think you are just the next one daft enough to go there? Maybe you are just the next one, maybe that’s a page from his usual playbook… Fuck…
You press your forehead into the mirror and spit the foam. A knock comes from the door.
“You alright, love?” he asks. No, you are most definitely not.
“Yeah, just brushing my teeth. I’ll be out in a mo.”
You hear Thea’s voice too. “I’m leaving for my lectures. Have fun and do everything I would!” Guh…
The front door bangs, and it’s time to face the firing squad. You step out, but then you hear your phone ringing in the bedroom. Phil is propped on Thea’s chair, chewing a biscuit. Seriously, he has an oral fixation. He’s always either chewing, or sucking on a sweet, or… No, none of those mental images.
You rush by him and pick up the phone. It’s some marketing shite, but it gives you a moment to pull a long sweater over your robe. You hear rustling behind you, you turn and see him leaning on the door frame. You hang up and sit.
“I have a class in twenty minutes.”
“You are going? You are sick as a dog!” You give him a stare. He amends, “A silky, adorable, chow puppy?” He lifts his hands in mock surrender.
“It’s Perkins,” you deadpan.
“Yeah, you need to go.” No one skips Perkins.
You get up and give him a pointed look. “I need to get dressed.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Get out of my bedroom, berk.” You are giddy. Oh stop it, Wren. He smirks but leaves, and you hear his voice from the kitchenette.
“I’ll pick you up after the lecture. You should get a nosh after.” Really, he is worse than Thea in the innuendo department!
“I have three labs after. Pub at 7?”
“Are you going to stand me up again?” You come out and see him finishing an apple. Oh, the lips and the white teeth…
You come and slide your arms around his waist. He stops chewing and looks down at your. He is only maybe seven inches taller than you but it is actually an excellent height difference. You rub your nose into his short beard.
He tastes like apple.