Okay, that's not even close to true. Everything with Grandma is worse. But Brendon on a date...
Touching some girl.
Kissing her.
Binding her to her bed.
I... I'm going to throw up.
"We're not dating." His voice is curt. Obvious. We're meeting for dinner and a fuck.
I try to settle back into the routine of watching and laughing and teasing, my body refuses to relax.
Nothing helps.
Not even my dirty thoughts.
They all go wrong. He's touching me, stripping me out of my clothes, dragging his lips over my neck.
Then she's there.
Some girl with big tits and pretty lips and a tight dress that screams please take this off.
He'll fuck some girl he barely knows.
But he won't even talk about sex with me.
It's bullshit.
Total bullshit.
He moves into the kitchen. Comes out with an apple between his hands.
Takes a bite.
He shoots Emma a stern look. "No guys or drinks while I'm gone."
She rolls her eyes.
He shakes his head you're a brat, but there's concern in his eyes. "Kay. Promise. No drinks or guys."
"I'm not Emma's keeper," I say. I don't add fuck you for this date bullshit. Fuck you for acting like it isn't a knife in my chest. And for doing it in a towel, just to add insult to injury.
But he doesn't know I know.
He doesn't know I'm crazy about him.
He...
He must have some idea. There's a connection between us. He gets me in a way no one else does.
And he's different with me. He smiles. Laughs.
I watch him walk away. Watch his back tense and relax. Watch that towel slip lower and lower on his hips.
My body screams all of him now, please.
My heart is more reluctant.