Page 15 of Wild Curves
It’s a weird feeling, to be cross with someone and at the same time turned on by them. This is the feeling I have as my thighs wrap around Arlo’s bike. My hands are around his waist and my body presses into him, the vibrations of the bike adding to the heat coming off his body. The trembling in my thighs has only half to do with the bike and more to do with the man whose body I’m pressed up against.
It’s the audacity of it that I can’t get over. He knows I didn’t have a choice but to come back here once he suggested it. To refuse would have given away the fact that this is all a sham. He’s taking advantage of the fake relationship scenario to purposefully make me uncomfortable.
I’ve had people tease me all my life for being too short, for being too tubby. And now there’s Arlo with his overly kind words, pretending that he’s not pretending. It’s just another way to tease me.
If I didn’t find him so damn attractive, it would be easier. But I’m about ready to jump his bones. Especially with this machine humming under me and making my virgin pussy flutter.
If it wasn’t working so damn well with my mother, I’d slide right off this bike right here and now. But Mom’s falling for it hook, line, and sinker, and I have Arlo to thank for that.
If it wasn’t for him, she’d be harassing me about every man we passed on the street. If I can just get through this weekend, if I can weather his teasing, and if I can make it through with my heart and my virginity intact, it will all be worth it.
The bike slows, and we pull onto a tree-lined gravel path. There’re flashes of brown through the undergrowth, and his cabin comes into view. It’s made of slatted logs, a classic log cabin nestled amongst the trees.
On the front porch are two red wooden chairs, and a string of fairy lights hang off the eaves. It’s cozy and welcoming and looks like a real home after the concrete slab that is my apartment block.
Arlo pulls the bike to a stop out front, and I slide off the back before he can help me. My foot catches on something, and I stumble. Arlo reaches out a hand to steady me, but I bat him away.
“I’m fine.”
“I know you’re cross with me, Maggie. But there was no way I was going to leave you in that small apartment with your mother. I might as well leave you in a lion’s den.”
He's right. I know he’s right. And that makes it all the more infuriating. I want to be cross with him. But the truth is, his thoughtfulness is working its way into my heart.
Stupid heart.
I slam my heart closed before I can make this any more complicated than it already is.
“It’s fine,” I say, and this time meaning it. “Thank you.”
Arlo shows me into the cabin, and my breath catches in my throat. The kitchen is huge. A large marble work bench, perfect for rolling pastry takes up almost half the kitchen area. Metal utensils hang from the rafters, and there’s plenty of spare bench space for all of my supplies.
Hold up,I remind myself.It’s not like you’re really moving in here.
Large windows look out over the green forest and the darkening sky. Stairs lead up to a second level.
“You live here alone?”
It’s a big space for one person, but I’ve never seen Arlo with anybody. I hate the way I hold my breath waiting for his answer.
“For now.”
He eyes me as he says it, giving me his cheeky grin. My heart flutters, but he’s only teasing me, and it has to stop. I may have trouble standing up to my mother, but I’m not going to let Arlo mess with me.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, Arlo, but it’s not nice of you to tease me like that.”
His face falls. “I’m not teasing you, Maggie. I’m not playing.”
He looks sincere. But how can he be? I’m too short, too tubby, and my hair’s too flat, as my mom never tires of pointing out. There’s no way a man like Arlo would be into someone like me. And even if he was, I’m not interested. I’ve got my career to think of.
“Just show me to the spare bedroom.” I sigh heavily. I’ve had enough of these games. “Thank you for pretending, but you don’t need to pretend anymore.”
He looks at me long and hard and lets out a big breath.
“She’s really done a number on you, huh?”
“Who has?”
He pushes off of the kitchen counter that he’s leaning against and walks towards me. The closer he gets, the more I have to tilt my head back so I can see him. He only stops when our toes are almost touching.
