Before I can say anything he’s leapt off the bed, pulling on his sweatshirt and toeing on his shoes. “I’ll see you later?” he asks once he’s ready to go.
I rise up onto my knees and crawl over until I’m on the edge of the bed, closest to where he stands. Grabbing hold of the drawstrings on his hoodie, I tug, pulling him down for a kiss. “I don’t want you to leave,” I murmur against his lips.
Wow. Look at me being bold, asking for what I want.
A harsh breath leaves him and he closes his eyes. “You’re killing me here. I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“I think you should do the wrong thing.”
“And what do you define as the wrong thing?”
“Diving back underneath the covers and getting naked with me.” Am I testing him? Am I testing myself? I don’t know. But I’m not lying when I say I want that. I so do.
He grabs hold of my hands and grips them tight, giving them a squeeze before he releases them. “Gotta go. I’ll text you.”
I’m gaping at him. I can’t believe he just turned me down. Strangely enough, I don’t feel rejected. “You’re really leaving?”
Tristan goes to the door and opens it, turning to look at me before he slips out. “It’ll be worth it in the long run. I promise.”
I toss a pillow at the door as soon as it quietly shuts, battling against the sexual frustration throbbing deep inside of me. I kind of liked that he walked away. I sort of hate that he seemed able to do it so easily.
Now he’s just left me wanting more.
“I have no idea what to wear,” I mutter as I rifle through my tiny closet. I can’t remember the last time I bought something new. I’ve been purposely forcing myself to wear clothes I already own, considering my old closet back home was as big as my entire bedroom here and full of the latest and greatest styles, including super hot shoes and expensive bags.
After all the bad shit went down, I returned a bunch of those unworn shoes and got my money back. A lot of those expensive bags have also made me good money at the consignment shop. Sandie is thrilled with how fast they’ve sold and keeps asking if I have anymore, which I so do but that warrants a visit to the storage place and I haven’t had a chance to make it over there in a while.
For some reason my life went from dull and lonely, to exciting and busy. I blame it on making new friends. And a certain arrogant, sexy dude.
“I’m sure you’ll find something,” Kelli says, clearly not paying attention to me. She’s sitting on my bed, flipping through a magazine she picked up at the grocery store when we stopped by there earlier. “Hey, wanna take this sex test?”
I pause in my search for the perfect thing to wear. “No.”
She makes a noise. “God, you’re no fun. Don’t you want to know if you’re a wild woman or not?”
I’m fairly certain I’m not a wild woman. “I’m pretty boring when it comes to sex. I don’t need a test to tell me that.”
“Oh, come on, you can’t be that boring. I bet you have a few wild secrets up your sleeve.” She glances up from her magazine and wrinkles her nose. “Is that what you’re wearing? Don’t you think that’s a little too much?”
Sighing, I tug the black sweater dress I have on over my head, leaving it in a crumpled heap on the floor. Kelli’s right. A dress is too formal. It looks like I’m trying too hard to impress and that is so not the image I want to portray with Tristan’s friends.
Ugh. I can’t believe I even agreed to do this tonight anyway. I think Tristan is a little stunned that he agreed to it as well. A double date with Gabe and Lucy, we’re going to dinner together. Tonight.
He’s picking me up in less than an hour and I still don’t have an outfit figured out. I’m already a massive case of jittery nerves. I haven’t seen Tristan since the night we watched SATC and that was days ago. We’ve talked. We’ve texted. But what if he acts weird?
Knowing him he might act weird. I’m still baffled we only kissed a couple of times and then he left. I figured he’d try to make a move. A big move. Involving his big D.
Oh my God, I’m starting to sound like him in my thoughts. Clearly I have a problem.
“Whoa, what in the hell are you wearing?” Kelli asks.
I glance down at myself before I lift my head and meet her startled gaze. “Underwear?”
“That is some of the fanciest schmanciest underwear I’ve ever seen.” Kelli actually whistles. “Where did you get it?”
See, here’s the thing. Back in the day, when money was no object and I used my daddy’s credit card to buy whatever I wanted, I developed an underwear fetish. As in, I liked to spend top dollar on the finest lingerie I could find. Not that I was wearing it for a special guy. The serious relationships I had were few and far between, and the ones I did have weren’t particularly passionate.
But wearing delicate lace panties and a matching bra that costs more than the actual clothes I wore over them gave me this weird sense of power. Like I was wearing my armor beneath the regular clothes and no one had a clue. Sexy lingerie made me feel untouchable.
After everything that happened with my parents, I lost some of that power, and I definitely didn’t feel untouchable. When we got kicked out of our grand mansion, I shoved all my pretties in a box and tried to forget they existed. When I went through everything and stashed so much of it in storage, I brought the box of lace and silk with me here.
So the money may be gone but the undies remain. Not like I can bring it all into the consignment shop and sell my used panties—that’s gross. Besides, I didn’t want to get rid of them. I’ve rediscovered my love for my expensive lingerie collection and I’ve been wearing all sorts of stuff since the night Tristan came over. I put on this particular bra and panties set with Tristan in mind, hoping he’d catch a glimpse of them later tonight.
I sort of forgot myself and let Kelli get a full-on look at them right now.
“Victoria’s Secret I think, a long time ago.” Years ago. Black silk with white polka dots and trimmed in fine black lace, this set probably came from somewhere way more expensive but I didn’t want to say it. VS is common ground. Pretty much every girl on campus shops there.
“Tristan is going to shit.” Kelli throws her magazine down and sits up on the edge of the bed. “Seriously, Alex, you look hot. You actually have boobs.”
Ah, the brutal honesty of a friend. I know I’m flat chested. So does Kelli. She has no problem calling me out on it either. “This bra has really great lift.” I mess with the underwire and readjust the cups. Some guys call this false advertising. I just call it enhancing what I’ve already got.
“I’ll say. Tristan will want to lift those suckers right out of your bra.” She shakes her head. “God, I sound like a pervert. I blame my lacking sex life for this.”
Steven and Kelli are slowly circling around each other. They hang out. They talk. They text. They met for coffee twice. They went to a movie. He held her hand once—when they had to cross the street really fast. Otherwise, nothing is really happening.
And Kelli is frustrated.
“You need to make the first move,” I tell her as I go to my dresser and pull open a drawer, withdrawing my favorite dark blue sweater and shaking it out before I slipped it on. The color looks good against my skin and makes my eyes appear bluer. I shove up my sleeves and reach for the thin gold and silver bangles I used to wear all the time, stacking them on my wrist. “He’s afraid.”
“Scared guys are a pain in the ass,” Kelli mutters.
I slip a long necklace on over my head and turn to face her. “I had to be the one to make the first move with Steven. I advise you do the same.” I hold my arms out. “What do you think?”