Page 62 of Personal Foul

Dylan

I hold my breath, waiting for Charity’s answer.

She stretches, her arms reaching up, her back arching and pressing her tits toward the sky. God, when she does things like that, it makes me want to cup those tits in my hands, feel their weight, squeeze them together, see if she likes it when I play with her nipples. Does she like them pinched? Squeezed? Or does she prefer a gentler touch?

She barely tolerates me at this point, though. No way in hell am I going to find out the answer to those questions anytime soon, if ever.

“We could watch a movie again,” I suggest. It’s still pretty early, but she’s acting like she’s tired and might try to leave. She hasn’t been here that long. I’m not ready for her to leave yet.

Her face screws up in thought, and I just know she’s going to protest that she should leave. I open my mouth to come up with some reason she should stay—like I’ll think she doesn’t accept my apology if she leaves now—but I stop myself, because that’s emotionally manipulative, and if I don’t want her to think I’m a douchebag, I need to not do that shit.

“I could go for a movie.”

It takes a second for her words to register because I was so prepared for a no. “Yeah?” I can’t help grinning.

She laughs. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

Crossing to my spot on the couch, I wave away her comment, trying to play it cool, as though that can somehow salvage my reputation as a gives-no-fucks athlete. Not sure why I bother, to be honest. Reflex, I guess.

Which, if I tend to react out of reflex more than thought most of the time, I can’t really blame her for reflexively calling me a douche earlier, can I? Like she said, I’ve been truly awful to her. And the worst part is that I didn’t even realize how awful I was being.

Sounds dumb, right? How could I not see that my treatment of her would make her already stressful and terrible situation worse?

I should just let her go. That was my plan after all. Let our contact fizzle out and die. Let her get on with her life without my interference making it worse.

Then she texted me. Asked if I was free. If she could come over …

How could I say no?

Especially if she’s going to offer me the opportunity to redeem myself on a silver platter like this. And really, I don’t want to let her go. I enjoy spending time with her. We’ve talked more since Friday than we have altogether prior to that, and I don’t want to give it up when I’ve barely gotten a taste.

So we’ll start with a movie. And maybe I can convince her to stay the night again …

* * *

The credits roll, and Charity sits up and stretches. This time much closer to me, because as the movie progressed, she got more and more horizontal until I scooped up her feet and put them in my lap.

She’d given me a surprised look, but I’d shushed her before she could formulate her obvious question, whispering, “This is a good part.”

With a mildly amused smile on her face, she’d subsided, adjusting her position so she was more comfortable, and we spent the rest of the movie with my feet propped on the coffee table and hers propped on my lap.

But once the movie’s over, so is the little bubble of intimacy I managed to create, popped by her dramatic stretching.

I look away this time, not wanting to ogle her so obviously. I should get some kind of award for my willpower and restraint, though.

“Well,” she says, letting her hands fall into her lap, then pushing herself up to standing. “I should head out.”

Standing as well, I check the time on my phone. “Really? It’s only eight. We could watch something else.”

With a soft chuckle, she shakes her head. “Maybe another time. I have some homework to do, and”—she looks at her phone—“Isabelle’s wondering where I am.”

I step closer to her. “You could tell her you’re with me.”

Her lips curl in a bashful smile that she tries to suppress. “I already did.”

“So what’s the problem? Stay a little longer. Do your homework here.”

Shoulders slumping, she looks up at me, her eyes widening when she realizes how close I am. If I were trying to intimidate, I’d be towering over her. As it is, I want to reach out and wrap my hand around her side to pull her into me.

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